His lips purse in contemplation. “I don’t do that.”
“Which is why I need you to leave. Now. I will see you at six on Monday.” I walk to the door and pull it open, staring sternly at his astounded expression.
“Good night,” I choke out as he storms past me out the door. I slam it shut and slide against it down to the floor, holding my palm to my aching mouth, still able to feel his bewitching lips on mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Trying to keep my deranged emotions in check, I head in the direction of Scott Industries, suitcase in hand. The sun hasn’t even risen. Vibrant New York is asleep and quiet.
My lousy weekend consisted of the rest of the cheap wine in my apartment and sad indie music that I listened to until about three hours ago, but I’ve come prepared to face my boss. I won’t let him get the best of me. I will get past this infatuation and be the best damn assistant anyone could possibly have.
I take longer, more confident strides in my brand-new crimson heels. Turning the corner, I catch sight of the black limousine parked outside the entrance of the building. My heart rate picks up knowing he’s nearby.
Come on, keep it together. You have three days with this man.
Dimitri exits the driver’s side to open the door for me, and I nod my thanks. Yes. Cool, calm, collected. However, all that collectiveness goes right out the window as soon as I lay eyes on him.
“Mr. Scott.”
He’s in a gray suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, no tie, and god, he has buttons undone.
“Miss Fontaine.” His voice is cold and distant, as I expected. I sit up straight and peer out the window, planning to start counting the minutes until we reach JFK.
“I trust your weekend went well.”
Wow, he’s talking to me.
“It was fine, thank you. Yours?”
“Fantastic. I had a very entertaining weekend. Eventful,” he divulges, his sarcasm wickedly present today.
Oh, that’s how he wants to do this?
“I’m sure you did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, avoiding any type of eye contact with him because I know it will be my undoing. Those gorgeous, dark green eyes. I hear him scoff next to me like the arrogant jerk he is, and it makes my blood boil.
As soon as we arrive at the unloading dock, he hops from the car and I’m practically left in his dust as he walks ahead of me all the way to the private jet. I can already tell this trip is going to be fantastic.
I choose to stay close to Dimitri, walking silently alongside him. I find him much more comforting than the gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old boss man owning the asphalt beneath his feet.
We step onto the launch pad and I gawk at the size of the plane. The words “Scott Industries” are printed in bold black letters along the side of it.
“That’s impressive,” I remark to Dimitri and he nods, his face passive.
“Yes, ma’am. One of many.”
I gape at him and a slight smile forms on his tanned features. “He has more than one?”
“Three. All different builds.”
“Must be nice.”
Benjamin glances back to look at us, proceeding up the steps. I grip the railing and inhale deeply, knowing there’s no way out of this plane for the next six hours. I can only pray it’s not too unbearable.
At the last step, my heel falls in between the platform and the steps.
