Meynard holds nothing but his briefcase in his hands, and he strides down the hallway in front of her like she’s a pack animal. I have to take a few breaths to temper my rage. The way he treats her is so dismissive. I’ve only seen a couple of interactions and it’s all been the same. Why does he think that he can do that?
“Here,” I say, jogging to catch up with her down the hallway. “Let me help you.”
Fuck, I startled her. Chianna nearly drops one of the boxes when she hears my voice, and Meynard turns with a sneer. “You don’t have to help her. She’s got it.”
“I’m sure she does have it,” I say. “That doesn’t mean that she should have to.”
Her face flushes, but this time it doesn’t feel right. It’s not a good flush. It’s one of embarrassment. Did I do the wrong thing here? Too late now, I guess. Taking the top box from her, I see the relief in her eyes, even if she is embarrassed. “We’re going the same direction anyway, right?”
“Right,” she says softly.
The three of us in the elevator is the most tension that I’ve experienced in a long time. Faded music hums in the background, and I’m aware of every inch of the woman standing in front of me. And it seems like Meynard is aware of every inch of me, given the hatred that’s rolling off him in waves.
The lobby is empty, and Chianna hurries to the door. Meynard doesn’t even bother to open it for her as she struggles to push through with her things.
“Our car is there,” he says to me as we exit the building. “Now give her the box.”
I smile at Chianna as I place the box back precariously on top of the first one. She doesn’t smile back. She power walks away from me toward the car. She’s practically on the verge of running. It’s a fight to hide my smile. She’s completely unaware of how good that makes her ass look, and I’m totally fine with watching.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Canterbar,” Meynard says in a low voice, stepping into my space. “But knock it the fuck off.”
Meeting his eyes, I stare at him evenly. “I’m not doing anything, Meynard. And if me offering to help someone carry their things is anything more than common human decency to you, I don’t know what to tell you. Except maybe you should keep your eyes to yourself and find some of that same decency. Especially for a member of your own family. Who’s living in your house.”
Meynard’s eyes narrow, and he looks at me like he can unveil all my secrets by focusing his own personal laser beams on me. Lucky for me, I have an excellent poker face.
He stalks away from me toward the car, but he doesn’t get into it without looking back at me first with another glare. This time I smile. He’ll never know just how much he gets under my skin. I don’t need to give him that kind of weapon.
I keep the smile plastered on my face until the car disappears down the block. Then I call my own car. The decision settles in me before I even realize that I’ve made it. No matter what happens between me and Chianna—and I plan on a lot happening—I’m going to help her.
It doesn’t matter that she’s Meynard’s niece or the fact that he got the job for her. She obviously said yes to the job to get some work experience. Not be an office temp doing kindergarten crafts for her uncle. That’s not fair to her on any level.
So aside from educating her in all the ways that I can make her scream, I’m going to do everything that I can do to help her nail this internship. And after that? I’ll help her get whatever job she wants. Whether or not it’s with me.
Sliding into the backseat of my car, I subtly adjust my pants. I can only hope that in the process I can convince her that, at least on a personal level, she belongs with me. Because deep down I know that she’s mine.
7
Chianna
It’s almost halfway through the day and so far I’ve done a good job avoiding Kris, no matter what my traitorous body has to say about it. What I really want to do is find him and drag him into the supply closet and beg him to shower me with pleasure and take my mind off all the other things swirling around in there.
Things like my uncle and how I’m starting to regret taking this job and his offer to live with him at all.
As soon as we were out of sight of the apartment building, he wouldn’t stop talking. About me. About Kris. About me and Kris together. I honestly wished that I could disappear.
His monologue has been running through my head on repeat all morning.
“I’m glad that you left a note about where you were this morning, though I’m a little surprised at you. I thought that you wanted this job? You’ll get enough exercise walking around the office. Going to the gym is a waste of time. Instead of doing yoga and playing personal trainer with Kris fucking Canterbar, you could have used that time to work more on the presentation.”
I kept looking out the window. “I’m sorry.”
“Your work last night was acceptable, but that’s all that it was. If you want to do well here, you’re going to have to put in the time and make the sacrifices. Even if that means not going to the gym in the morning.”
The fact that I’d gotten up to go to the gym at five o’clock in the morning wasn’t mentioned. Or the fact that I’d done everything and more that he wanted on the presentation last night. I’d worked until I was practically falling asleep standing up. I don’t know what I could have done more or better—I’m sure he’ll give me a list at some point today.
By the time that we got to the office, I was grateful for the busywork tasks that he gave me just so I could finally get away from him.
I don’t think Meynard liked that I didn’t enthusiastically agree with him about the fact that I could have done more. Up until now, I’ve been almost overly enthusiastic about this job. I still am. I’m still here, I still want to learn, but even though it’s only been a few days, it feels like nothing is happening. And based on what he’s given me to do so far, it feels like that’s the way it’s going to stay.
The truth is, I don’t agree with him. But then again, maybe that’s not fully on me. Maybe it’s Kris. He burst in, all hot and sexy, and distracted me. If he hadn’t rescued me from Meynard’s rebuke yesterday, I maybe wouldn’t have noticed him. If he hadn’t cornered me in that supply closet yesterday, maybe I wouldn’t have wanted him. If he hadn’t been in the gym this morning looking as delicious as sin, maybe I would have been back to the apartment before Meynard even realized that I was gone.
Yeah. That was the problem. I was being distracted. And that’s exactly why I’d avoided relationships in high school and college all together. I wanted to do my work and impress my uncle and get a good job. Once I accomplished those things, I could make time for love and sex.
And pleasure, my brain adds.
I scowl at nothing.
Pleasure is easy. Pleasure is something that I can give myself. I don’t need some hot executive tongue fucking me every day to have an orgasm.
The truth in my brain is right there, but I push it aside. I can teach myself to come like that. It can’t possibly be that special. Maybe there’s a sex toy that mimics a tongue. I’ve heard some of my friends talk about vibrators that suck on your clit. Maybe I’ll get one of those and I won’t even notice the difference.