Dinner? With the devil?
“I’ll probably just grab something quick up the street,” I tell him. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“The place I’m going is just up the street,” he adds casually. “Thirteen minutes away.”
“That’s oddly specific.” His lips twitch, andGodI want to see him smile. But he maintains his serious expression, even asI let my eyes wander over his face. I realize with a start that he mightwantme to join him. I mean… he’s probably lonely in that underground demonic cave he must live in. “Fine. But just so you know, I didn’t bring any fancy dinner things to wear.”
“What you’re wearing is fine.”
I look down at my dark gray, fitted shift dress and black heels. I didn’t exactly have time to go shopping, so this outfit is at least five years old and hardly appropriate for whatever fancy place he’s going to take me.
“I have some colleagues to speak to. I’ll meet you back in the room at seven. Do you still have the key?”
I pat my small purse. “Yep.”
He leans forward and presses the UP button on the private elevator for me before taking a step back. “Have a good afternoon, Francesca.” He turns and walks away, his shoes clacking against the marble floor. I watch him go, admiring the muscles in his back contract with every step—and the way his ass fills out his pants. If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d be in deep trouble.
Of course he’d be hot.
I’d been dealing with his bad temperament for two years, and I loathed him in more ways than one. Why did he have to be so attractive, too? It’s confusing and frankly, not fair.
Why are all the pretty faces wasted on assholes like him?
He gets farther and farther away. It’s not until I hear the elevator ding that I come out of my stupor.
I go up to the room and answer some of Dr. Kincaid’s emails for the next few hours, responding to most of them and putting the ones I’m unsure of in a separate folder. Just before seven, the door to the room beeps and the devil himself walks in with a glowering expression.
“Have you been working this whole time?” he asks.
“Hello to you, too,” I say glumly, closing my laptop and stepping back into my heels. I’d kicked them off while working.
“It’s nearly seven,” he says, putting his hands in the pockets of his pants.
I blink rapidly. “I’m confused… are you angry that I’m working?” I’m unable to hide my irritation after the long day. It feels good to bite back for once. I’d much rather hash things out in person. My words always get jumbled via email. And in terms of reasons he’s been annoyed with me, this is a new one.
“I pay you a reasonable salary,” he says evenly. “But I hope I’ve never given you the impression that I expect you to work long after five o’clock.”
I bite my tongue, because my first instinct is to laugh and say,What about all of those late-night emails?
He takes a step closer. “And if I have, I apologize.”
I shrug. “You do email me quite late at night.”
His lips twitch with that almost smile again. “I never expect you to respond to those immediately, Francesca. Unless it’s an emergency, of course. Sometimes I think you’re too good at your job,” he mumbles, running a hand over his face.
I bark out a laugh. “Doubtful. I’m surprised you haven’t fired me.”
He cocks his head and a crease forms between his brows. “Fired you? Why do you think I’ve given you so many raises? Because you’re incredibly good at your job.”
A blush works its way over my cheeks, and I look down at my sore feet. “Thank you.”
He stops right in front of me, and damn those pants for fitting his thighs so well, because that’s what I’m choosing to focus on at this moment.
“No, thank you,” he murmurs.
I look up at him and he’s watching me with an almost tortured expression. My stomach flips over and I instantly jumpup, because there’ssomethingin his eyes that makes me feel like his prey, and though I shouldn’t like it, I do.
“I’m just going to use the restroom and then we can go.”
