Everyone is getting a feel of me in this story, and it makes me slightly entertained.
“Did you?” I ask with a quirked brow and a half smile.
He gives me another onceover. “Looks like I did alright,” he says, a double meaning heavy in his words.
I chuckle and nod. “You did. Thank you.”
Another loud shout makes Martin wince. “He’s not having a good morning.”
“Why?” I ask with genuine interest. For some reason, I have an urge to soothe him.
“Looks like the building won’t be reopening anytime soon.”
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, feeling a wave of guilt washing over me. No matter what happened after, I’m the initial denominator of the whole situation. Me and the fire I caused.
“Oh shitis right.” He looks at the closed door with a sad look on his face. “I don’t know how he’ll get out of this one.”
With a deep sigh, I square my shoulders and head toward his office.
“Do you want me to put my headphones on?” Martin asks to my back.
I respond to him with a middle finger behind my back, making him laugh.
“Oh, I just might love you, Maeve King.”
43
Ezra
“This is why I pay you big money, isn’t it?” I hiss into the phone even though I want to yell. I’ve already done that, and it didn’t bring anything.
He clears his throat.“The company.”
“What?” I ask, pulling on the tie to loosen it. Suddenly I don’t have enough air. I thought securing the shares would ensure I have our company back. I was sure of it.
“The company pays me.”His tone turns more confident.
“I see.”
And I really do. This prick of a lawyer was brought into the company by the board, and he’s working for them, not me. That much is clear. Is anyone in this company still working for me?
I hang up the phone without saying goodbye and press the button of the intercom to call Martin in, when the door slowly opens, and Maeve’s head peeks through. If I waswalking, I’d lose my footing because she’s the last person I expected to see here.
My natural reaction is a bark. “What are you doing here?”
“Well.” She steps inside, softly shutting the door behind her. “That’s quite a welcome.”
I want to be mad at her. I need to be mad at her so all this pent-up anger will have an outlet. She’s the reason all of this started. If she didn’t stay at the coffee shop, the fire wouldn’t have started because the damn oven would have been off. And I might still have my company. But I can’t even focus on any of that because my eyes keep ravaging her body.
Her legs seem to be endless in that skirt. Her calves look even more toned in those boots I picked myself. They’re the same color as her hair, and I thought she’d love that about them. Looks like she does if she’s wearing them today.
I want to shake my head to get rid of the lusting thoughts of my wife. But I can’t.
She’s moving closer while I’m internally battling with myself.
“What’s with the face, love? You look like you just kissed a lemon,” she teases, not knowing how much her nickname is affecting me. I know it’s part of the joke, but it hits too close to home.
“I might as well have,” I grumble, pushing away from the desk. I swear the papers scattered over my table snicker at me.
