“Please.” He gestures to the seat at his desk. “Come in.”
I walk in as his eyes drop to my toes and then back up to my face for the second time today, and he leans back in his chair as if pleased about something.
I raise my eyebrow. “What?”
A trace of a smile crosses his face. “What, what?”
“Why do you look like that?” I ask.
“I was just going to ask you the same question.”
“Oh.” I glance down at myself and feel like I have to justify my choice of outfit. “I just—”
“Look lovely,” he cuts me off.
I stare at him, unsure what to say next. I swallow the large lump that is lodged firmly in my throat. “The report?” I stammer.
“Yes.” His eyes hold mine. “Let’s do that.” He points to the seat with his pen and rotates his chair back to his computer. “I wanted to go through a few points. I’m unsure how to read the data.”
“Okay.” I sink into the chair.
He looks up and narrows his eyes as if processing a new thought. “A new perfume.”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a new perfume today.”
“No, I’m not,” I snap. Oh, hell on a cracker . . . this trying to be sexy is a disaster.
“Yes . . . you are. I know your scent.” His eyes hold mine. “And . . . today it’s different.”
He knows my scent . . . what the fuck?
I frown as I stare at him. “Umm . . . ” I give a subtle shake of my head, completely flustered. “I don’t know, maybe you haven’t been around me when I’ve worn it before.”
“What a shame.”
I drop my head in confusion. Is he flirting with me?
I don’t get it: for seven years I’ve known this man, despised him, and thankfully been immune to his charm. I’ve watched every woman around me in the office fall desperately in lust with Elliot Miles and I could never see the attraction.
For the life of me, I didn’t get what they saw in him.
Today, I do.
I open my folder as a distraction.
Focus.
“So . . . the projected income is on the left-hand side of the graph here.” I point to the pink line with my finger as I try to act professional. “This line here is the actual income of the UK office, and this line here is projected advertising costs, although we don’t have all the data for France . . .” My eyes flick up to see if he’s listening; he’s sitting back in his chair, his thumb is under his chin, and his pointer finger is tracing over his lips as if he’s thinking deeply.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m . . .” I pause. Huh? “I’m explaining the projection report. Isn’t that . . . ?”
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is this an entrapment?”
“I’m sorry . . .” I frown.
“Is that your plan?”
“I don’t understand.”
He stands and puts his hands in his suit pockets as if angered. “That’s it . . . isn’t it?”
“What?” I shake my head, confused.
“Do you really hate me that much that you would stoop that low?”
“What are you talking about?” I frown again.
He screws up his face. “Come off it, Landon. I wasn’t born yesterday. It’s all making sense now.”
“Well.” I widen my eyes. “Good, because you can explain it to me. I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s wrong with this report?”
“I can see it so clearly now . . .” He shakes his head as if having an epiphany. “Of course, that’s it,” he whispers under his breath.
“Mr. Miles.”
“Elliot,” he corrects me. “And don’t give me your fucking shit.” He picks up a remote from his desk and points it to the corner of the ceiling; I glance up and see the green light go off. He just turned the security cameras off.
“So, this is your plan?” he sneers.
“Plan?”
“Turn your stupid boss on, until he cracks and pursues you. Then you have him charged with sexual harassment in the workplace.”
My mouth falls open in horror. “What?”
“Oh, please.” He screws up his face in disgust. “It’s clear as day now—the hot little dress, turning up at that event looking like a walking fucking orgasm and then going home with another man. The sauna, ha.” He throws his head back. “The sauna was a good one, what chance do I have seeing you hot and sweaty in a bikini like that?”
I stare at him as my brain misfires.
I turn him on.
“You can cut the shit, right fucking now,” he growls.
My temper begins to simmer. “Turn the camera back on for this because I want you to rewatch it later when you’re in a straitjacket.” I stand and we come toe to toe. “For your information . . . Mr. Miles,” I sneer, “I have just come out of a traumatic period in my life and have just started to refind myself. My new clothes, male friendships, and dresses have nothing to do with you or your inflated ego.”
He narrows his eyes as we glare at each other.
“This may come as a surprise, but I have only ever treated you as you have treated me, with contempt. Excuse me for not lining up to suck your dick like the rest of the stupid female population.”
“You know nothing about me.”
“I know that I’m not a bitch. You, however, are a fucking asshole . . . and stupidly, for a few moments there, I forgot.”
I slam the report folder down on his desk.
“What was the trauma in your life?” he barks.
“None of your business.” I turn and walk toward the door.
“Kate.”
I turn like the devil himself and point at him. “You don’t get to call me that,” I growl. “To you, I’m Kathryn.” I march out the door and straight through reception, hit the elevator button and bite my lip to hold it in.
I can feel the angry tears coming.
Don’t cry . . . don’t cry . . . don’t you fucking dare let him make you cry.
Entrapment.
What an asshole.
Chapter 4
I storm into the elevator like the Hulk. After the worst day in history I am ready to fight someone . . . anyone.
Come at me, bitches, because I am ready to rumble.
After my meeting with fuck-face Miles this morning, the day started to spiral. Before tea break, we had a computer glitch that appeared for no reason and wouldn’t go away. Then when I was on my break, I got an urgent call that the entire network had crashed. I had to rush back from lunch before my food had even arrived and go into damage repair. I ended up having to shut down the entire system and reboot the whole building, then to top off the debacle I got a call from fuck-face to tell me to hurry up about it.
My fury bubbles deep in my stomach. Hurry up about it.
I’ll give him hurry up about it.
It’s now 7 p.m. and I’m just leaving, I’m tired, I’m angry, and worst of all, I’m hangry.
I could eat a horse and chase the rider.