Maybe he’s one of those guys that can’t be around girls.
Pulling my lips back up, I stay where I am.
Dean's hands are stiffly fisted at his sides.
Silence beckons between us. Fixating on our statures of being and pulling apart all logical words. Ever since I moved to Toronto, I haven’t been quiet. Mostly because when I lived back in Cornwall, my sisters have always done the talking for me. I had no choice but to talk for myself here. But whenever I’m around Dean—Mr. Vuk—the silence reappears. Except, unlike how it is when I’m with my sisters, this silence has a voice. It’s like it becomes the words and I can relax myself into this wordless pattern we’re in.
He has a presence to him. Anauraif you will.
Dean Vuk is the kind of man your mother tells you to stay away from. He’s a bad boy personified. Not in the Wattpad kind of way, but in the quiet, dangerous, attractive way.
Compared to his brothers, he’s quiet. But that didn’t make him any less dominating. One step into his shadow and you’re swallowed whole.
He’s deliberate, smart, and unacceptably hot. It makes my insides tingle like I used the wrong kind of oil on my scalp.
One day, I’d get him to smile.
No one can resist Nova, not even ogre over here.
His eyes pull away the layers on my skin and scan me in critical ways, as if he’s searching for a reason to kick me out of his office.
If I wasn’t a professional, I’d stick my tongue out.
But since he is my client, I decide to be mature.
“Mr. Vuk?” I ask once again, swallowing hard.
“No,” he says.
“No?” My face pulls back into a weird expression, somewhere between the lines of smiling and grimacing. Not sure, actually.
“I called you,” he gruffs.
“Yes?” I repeat because apparently that’s all I can do right now.
More silence.
Patience, Nova.I hum before speaking. “Was there something important you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Even if there isn’t,” I continued. “I’m totally open to talking about whatever. I like flowers, which you know. We can talk about how they grow. Or we can talk about how Sabrina Carpenter’s fits have been eating on herShort n’ SweetTour. I’m not picky about what we talk about.”
This time, I have to force myself to look away from his stare because holy.Intense.
It might have been the trick of the light, but the corner of Dean’s eyes slightly squinted.
My heart is hammering. Fluttering. Catapulting to another universe.
While that man over there is calm and collected, completely aloof to my insides melting against the simmering sensation of whatever hotness I’m feeling.
“Right,” he clears his throat. The sound of his voice sounds exotic. As if he was a singer or some kind of rockstar in his past life. It hasan edge to it. An edge and a rasp and a thousand different sounds that somehow translate to my ears as my new favourite (possibly). “I wanted to give you this,” he speaks slowly like he’s getting a taste of the syllables.
He pulls out a card from his drawer—something shiny and gold—before walking towards me.
My feet move on their accord and as he rounds the table, I’m at eyeline with his Adam’s apple. Up close, he’s tall. Annoyingly tall. Too tall to be considered human.
Ogre, indeed.
I’d need a stool, maybe two, if I wanted to kiss him without heels.
