Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Looking past him, I realized the entire office floor had gone silent.
With his palms braced on the smooth top of the desk, he leaned down and spoke low enough for only my ears. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Working,” I whispered back, knowing full well that was not what he meant.
Straightening to his full height, he snatched my laptop off my makeshift desk as well as my mood boards and marched out of the room.
Not knowing what else to do, I followed him.
I had to practically run in my heels to catch up with his long strides.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I caught up to him at the elevators.
He kept his gaze forward until the doors opened.
Placing a hand at my lower back, he half ushered, half pushed me inside.
We rode in silence.
Crippling, tense, excruciating silence.
The moment the doors opened, Sebastian marched through the reception area, past his own office, and to my assigned one.
I winced when he slammed my laptop and boards onto the empty desktop. “Here is where you were assigned to work, and here is where I expect to find you when I want you.”
So others wouldn't hear him yelling at me, I closed the door behind me.
He shrugged out of his suit jacket and threw it over my closed computer.
He then crossed his arms over his chest. “Where is your cell phone? Why aren’t you answering it?”
I knew he recognized the outfit as one he'd bought me and had to resist the urge to tear it off my body in a fit of pique. “My phone is in my purse, which is in the desk drawer. I didn’t want it with me during the meeting with Florian.”
Truth was, I suspected Sebastian was somehow tracking me through my phone, and that was how I was losing out on all those apartment opportunities, so I’d started carrying it less and less.
He crossed to the desk and opened the drawer.
Dragging my purse out, he unzipped it.
I stepped closer. “Hey!”
With my cell phone in his hand, he glared at me. “When I call, you answer. Period.”
I snatched the phone from his grasp. “Fine.”
“Why are you working from that desk downstairs and not here?”
Because I haven’t earned an executive office yet.
Because the rest of the team is one floor down, and it’s weird.
Because I can smell your cologne and hear the murmur of your deep voice through the shared door.
With a shrug, I said, “It’s just easier.”
“From now on, if Florian needs to meet with you, he can do it in here.”
“What does it matter where I work?”
He fisted his hands and pressed his knuckles against the desktop as he leaned forward. “It matters because I say it matters.”
Raising my chin, I spoke through clenched teeth as I gathered my boards together and needlessly rearranged them to avoid meeting his angry gaze. “Is there anything else, sir?”
He leaned back. “Yes. You’re accompanying me to a dinner tonight.”
I froze, the board I held slipping from my fingers and landing with a soft thud on the floor.
As I bent down to pick it up, I blurted, “Tonight? I can’t. I have plans.”
Sebastian charged around the desk in a heartbeat, his presence looming over me where I remained crouched. “You what?”
Swallowing hard, I focused on the shine of his undoubtedly expensive Italian leather shoes. “I said, I already made plans.”
He didn’t move for a long moment, and I foolishly thought I’d gotten away with it.
“Unless you plan on making yourself useful while down there on your knees, I suggest you stand and face me.”
My cheeks flamed at his audacity, the sexual innuendo hitting me like a sucker punch.
Biting my lip, I pushed off the floor and rose to my full height.
He reached out, his hand tilting my face up so I couldn’t escape his scrutiny. “Explain.”
“I’ve been invited to go out for drinks after work with the rest of the team."
His thumb moved over my lower lip, the soft touch sending a shiver down my spine. “Tell them no.”
“I already told them yes.”
His hand slid from my chin to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that made my pulse race. “What did I tell you about angering me, sweetheart?”
It was the first time he’d overtly touched me in two weeks.
The ache of wanting him—to lean into his hand, to press myself against him—was almost unbearable.
“I’m not trying to anger you,” I said softly. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who would be more than willing to accompany you.”
“There are,” he admitted.
“Good.”
“I want you.”
“You can’t have me,” I said anyway, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them.
My pulse kicked up a notch as he leaned closer, his hand sliding to the nape of my neck, where his thumb brushed the sensitive skin behind my ear.