She turns, giving me her backside, which I am very appreciative of, and hip checks the arm of my chair.
I roll back marginally, giving her just enough room to navigate around my desk. Not so much room though that she has free range without having to reach across me.
“By all means, make yourself at home,” I tell her as she leans over my chair and repositions my keyboard.
She glances at me over her shoulder, shooting daggers with those milk chocolate eyes, though she looks more confused than mad. I raise my hands to placate her.
When her attention is back on my computer monitor, my gaze travels down her backside to the slit in her skirt. I’m itching to touch her bare skin, to run my hands up her legs and slip my fingers inside. I want to know how she likes it and how long it takes to bring her over the edge.
“This is why I’m here to give you a lesson,” she explains, still looking forward. “You’re obviously not doing it right.”
Either she’s completely missing the innuendo behind this conversation or she should play professional poker.
“I’m a slow learner.”
It’s a lie. I’m not slow at anything, though I’d rather enjoy taking my time with her. “Could you give me a demonstration?”
Without skipping a beat, she grabs my hand and places it on the mouse and then sets her hand over top of mine. The energy buzzing between us is unreal. My heart might beat right out of my chest. Slowly, she begins moving our hands around until the cursor hovers over an email she’s sent me. And just like that I’m imagining me hovering over her.
She double-clicks the mouse. I close my eyes and imagine placing her on my lap, pulling up her skirt and having her take my hand and double-clicking something else.
“Do you think you can handle it? Or should I read it to you as well?”
I open my eyes to Gabriella staring at me, scanning my face with curiosity. Speaking suddenly feels like a foreign task, one I can’t manage. The longer I remain mute the more concentrated the air between us becomes. I know I should do something to end whatever this is but I can’t seem to do that either.
“Let’s look at this message together.”
She turns back to the screen, causing her hair to fall like a curtain. My free hand moves on it’s own accord, pushing her hair behind her ear and faintly tracing her jaw line with the tips of my fingers before letting them fall to my lap. Gabriella stills and I’m mesmerized by her staggered breaths. With her eyes on my mouth, she licks her lips, sucking in her lower lip and biting it.
Off limits. She’s off limits.
“I couldn’t see the screen,” I offer in explanation.
She swallows thickly and nods. Smiling shyly, she meets my gaze and clears her throat.
“You’ve got this right?” she asks.
“I hope so.”
Something sparks in her eyes.
Does she know I’m not talking about her tutorial? Because I’m aware. Too aware in a way that I’m not comfortable with in the slightest.
“How often are you going to check my emails?”
“Weekly, on Fridays.”
This is the best I can offer. I’ll compartmentalize all our conversations to one day when I know I’ll have two days without seeing her.
Eying me suspiciously, she takes control of the mouse again, this time opening my calendar.
“What are you doing now?” I question, grateful that whatever this is, isn’t over yet.
“Creating a daily reminder so you don’t forget.”
There’s no way in hell I’d forget about her, though I really want to. “I’m just going to hit snooze or delete the series,” I admit.
“Then you’ll be seeing a lot of me in person.” She smiles at me over her shoulder.
Maintaining eye contact, I lean forward and delete the series. We’re so close our noses nearly touch. The air grows thicker between us.
It’s not the only thing.
“Feel free to stop by any time.”
A faint noise escapes through the small part in her lips. I’m embarrassed by the restraint it requires not to crash my mouth to hers because I’m playing with fucking fire.
Too soon she removes her hand from mine and straightens. As she backs out of my office, she confirms what I’m already coming to terms with. “You’re going to regret saying that.”
When she’s out of earshot, I agree.
“Already do.”
Hours later, I start packing up for the night. How I got any work done is beyond me. We barely touched, yet I swear Gabriella’s perfume is lingering in this room, maybe on my clothes.
It’s insane.
Nothing inappropriate has happened. Yet with my increasing attraction to her I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I do something incredibly stupid.
I toss the strap to my laptop bag over my shoulder and close my door behind me, stopping when I hear muffled shouting coming from Gabriella’s office. Discomfort twists in my gut when I take a few steps closer and distinctly hear a man’s voice yelling from the other side of Gabriella’s closed door.
I knock once and open the door without waiting for acknowledgement. “Everything alright in here?”
I quickly assess the situation and lock eyes with Gabriella. She’s standing behind her desk, looking more than a little uncomfortable. Across from her, a tall, overweight, bald man leans forward, his fists pressed firmly on the top of her desk.
“We’re in the middle of a conversation,” the man sneers.
“I heard.” I take a step inside the room and force my clenched fists to remain at my side. “And now you’re finished.”
“Oh really? Who the hell are you?”
“The person who will remove you from the premises if you don’t leave this office right now,” I warn.
The man bends down to grab his belongings. Pointing at her he promises, “This conversation isn’t over, Gabby.”
“I sincerely hope that wasn’t a threat,” I tell him.
The man pauses in front of me briefly. “Just scheduling a future meeting,” he says and then shoulders past me to exit her office.
“What was that about?” I demand, not liking the ominous warning that lingers in the man’s wake.
She hesitates for second. “Just an angry employee,” she replies, visibly swallowing.
She’s scared. Sensing she has a bit of a proud streak, I don’t press the issue for now. She’ll downplay any fear just like I wouldn’t admit how bad I want to lay into a man that would threaten a woman. Not just any woman. Her.
“It’s late. Are you finished here?”
“Not yet.” She takes a seat and busies herself.
I pull out the chair across from her, make myself comfortable and start replying to emails from my phone.
“What are you doing?”
I briefly glance at her. “Waiting. I’ll walk you out.”
“I’m fine. Go ahead and enjoy the rest of your night.”
“I’m not fine with you being alone in the building with that guy.”
She blinks at me. “I’m pretty sure Randy’s gone, Lucas. Not to mention we have security. They do a walk through on each floor every hour. No need for you to stay.”
I ignore her.
Gabriella tosses her arms out to the side causing the half-dozen bangles on her arms to jingle. “Suit yourself.”
It’s then that I get a look at the inside of her forearms and notice bruises in the shape of fingerprints. My spine stiffens. “Who did that to you? Randy?”
My first instinct is to run after that guy and give him a matching set. I take her arm to get a better look, doing my best not to be rough. They’re new bruises, but not that new—a day or two old I’d guess.
She pulls her hand back and I let it go without hesitation. “No, it wasn’t him. It’s nothing.”
I drop it when she doesn’t offer an explanation. Ten minutes later we’re in the elevator headed to the lobby and it’s still on my mind.
“Did you drive?” I ask.
“No, I walk.”
A hundred scenarios for how she ended up with those marks play out in my mind while we silently step into the lobby. Maybe she was mugged, but then why wouldn’t she say anything?
“You didn’t have to stay,” she reminds me. “Thank you.”
I nod. “My car’s in the garage. I’ll drive you.”
She watches me apprehensively, probably trying to figure out where my newfound compassion is coming from, but follows me without question.
We ride in awkward silence, her looking out the window and me trying to figure out how to bring up her bruises again without turning it into a big deal. When no tactful option comes to me, I revisit the issue of the angry employee.
“Why is that guy pissed at you?”
“Randy thinks his manager is trying to screw him over and that I’m not being objective.”
“Does he have a point?”
She releases a humorless laugh. “Thanks for giving me the benefit of the doubt.”
I don’t reply. Asshole is the best way to describe the person I’ve recently become. She has every right to be pissed at me for how I’ve treated her, yet as she demonstrated more than once today, she’s still making an effort.
“There’s two sides to every story,” she continues. “Based on what I’ve seen his manager has taken the right steps. Randy’s amazing at executing, but he’ll take down anything or anyone that stands in his way. Coaching hasn’t worked. He doesn’t seem to understand that how you get things done is just as important as what you get done.”
I consider her words. She’s right.
“He had no right to speak to you that way.”
“That’s ironic don’t you think?”
I tilt my head to the side and knit my brows together. “Meaning?”
“Meaning you don’t treat me much better.”
“Have I yelled at you?”
“I almost wish you would.” Gabriella silently searches my face, looking for what, I’m not sure. “That’s me,” she says looking away, and points to a building on my right.
I pull up to the curb and park the car, gripping the steering wheel as I gather my thoughts. I’ve been thinking about how I treat her for the better part of the day, wondering if I’ve taken things too far.
“While you assume your disregard for me has been subtle, it’s not. It’s visible to others, and the less mature leaders in your organization are going to follow your lead. Look at Brandon; it’s already happening.”
I purse my lips together and look away, unwilling to admit she has a point. In my introductory meeting with my staff someone asked where Gabriella was and my response had been that going forward our meetings would only include my team. Without intending to impact the relationships she’d already built, I drew the line that day, making it clear I didn’t consider her part of my inner circle, and others are reacting to that. Brandon’s behavior earlier makes sense, as does her concern.
Still, I’m not sure taking ownership of my team is something I should apologize for.
“I’d never raise my voice to you that way, no one should. And there’s no excuse for someone putting their hands on you either.”
Her head whips in my direction. “Are you done?”
“I’ll get the door.”
She doesn’t wait.
“Thanks for the ride and for stepping in tonight but I’m seriously fine,” she says as I join her on the sidewalk.
“What are you going to do about that employee?”
A nervous laugh escapes her lips. “I’ll handle it with his manager.”
Sensing this is all I’m going to get from her I decide to let it go. Let’s hope she has half the backbone I think she does.
Raising her gaze to meet mine, she twists her lips as if she’s got something to say and is unsure.
“What is it?” I ask.
She wrings the strap of her purse with her hands. “I really wish you’d give me a chance.”
A sliver of regret twists in my gut over how I’ve treated her, but it’s overshadowed by a cool blast of denial. I take a few steps back and shake my head, automatically shutting down. I don’t need to defend myself, or my actions. More importantly, I don’t need this.
“Goodnight, Gabriella.”
Chapter 6
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The door to my office slams shuts.
“What’s with all the pink sticky notes?” The aggravation in Lucas’s voice is like music to my ears.
Nearly two and a half weeks of Lucas avoiding me, ignoring me at all costs, and I finally get a response. Ha, I bet he’s just pissed that I was in his pristine office. Serves him right. He had his battle axe of an admin officially remove me from his staff meetings the day after his tutorial in email. I tried to talk to him about it, but he hasn’t given me the chance in person and he hasn’t responded to my emails…shocker.
John, one of his strongest staff members, forwarded me the invite when I didn’t show up. I celebrated for all of five seconds, until I noted the time of the meeting. Why? It had already started. After rushing to the conference room, I waltzed in expecting him to kick me out. Part of me hoped he would so everyone would see him for who he really was. It was like he sensed me because he never looked up. All he said was, “You’re late.”
Prick.
Things between us have gone from bad to worse, which is why I’m so surprised he’s standing here in my office.
“I needed to give you a few updates,” I shrug, saving the document I’ve been working on before meeting his gaze. “You’re hardly around and don’t respond to my texts or emails. If you’d prefer some other form of communication, say singing telegrams, I’ll consider it.” I add a saccharine sweet smile for show.
“Gabriella,” he warns, tossing the stack of pink notes on my desk.
Maybe I went a tad overboard.
“Gabby,” I interject, correcting him for the hundredth time. And just like every other time, he ignores me.
It amazes me that he’s gotten this far in his career. The man’s smart and a hard worker, I’ll give him that. He’s in the office most days by 7AM, and even when I stay until 8PM, he’s still at his desk. He’s also captivating to watch whether he’s presenting or just taking part in a meeting. I could learn so much from him if he’d just play nice.
What’s interesting is that he denies he needs my help, yet he takes my advice. He’s adopted the communication cadence I recommended when we first met and he’s actually engaging with his team. The only person he won’t engage with is me.
Well, unless you count the flowers that showed up on my desk the day after I kindly reminded him it was Administrative Professional’s Day. The note that accompanied them read: Reminding others to celebrate you is tacky. PS—I need a notebook. It wasn’t signed with his name. It didn’t need to be. His admin had an identical bouquet.
Oh, and let’s not forget how he stormed into my office after a disgruntled employee got loud with me. I’m not going to lie; I was thankful for the interruption—the guy is huge. But then Lucas drove me home and had the nerve to interrogate me about a bruise. Like he would actually care if he knew where it came from. He’s been incognito ever since, though I’ve noticed security has been making extra rounds at night.
The man’s a walking contradiction.
I can’t figure him out. When he’s not slamming them in my face, he’s holding doors open for me. He’s charismatic and truly impressive to watch in meetings, yet has this cold demeanor. His interactions with others are a bit formal, but nothing like how he interacts with me, and yet I’ve
seen evidence that there’s a kinder person underneath it all. So what the hell is his deal?
His eyes close as he begins massaging his temples with one hand. The other is balled up at his side. Even when he’s pissed at me I can’t deny how attractive he is. “I told you—”
“You’ve got this. I remember.” I step around to the front of my desk and sit on the edge, crossing my ankles. “Except I’m not convinced that you actually do.”
Lucas recoils at my statement, and if I’m not mistaken he appears anxious. It’s hard to tell since the emotion is erased as quickly as it came, and replaced with a glacial stare. He’s completely fooled everyone else, manipulating them with his international twang and good looks, but I’m not falling for it, and though I’ve heard nothing but rave reviews about him from Jack and a handful of his staff, I’m not about to let him call my bluff.
He closes the gap between us, rolling his sleeves up to the elbow as he stalks toward me like a predator. He leans forward placing his hands on either side of my hips, gripping the edge of my desk and effectively boxing me in. My stomach is twisting in knots. His breath is warm on my neck, causing chills to spread across my skin. I cross my legs tighter to prevent myself from doing the opposite. It’s ridiculous how badly I want to turn into him to find out if he tastes as good as I imagine.
Speaking of contradictions, it would appear that my brain and body are no longer attached.
“Lucky for me, you’re not on the list of people I need to convince.”
Lingering seconds past his declaration is almost my undoing. Why does he have to smell so damn good? Because he’s an asshole whose mission is to make my life miserable. Trying to mask his effect on me, I clear my throat and he finally straightens, though he’s still invading my space. Clenching his jaw, he smoothes his tie against his chest. I’m not quite sure whether it’s good or bad, but I’m obviously having an effect on him too. Likely not the same one but that’s beside the point.
Conflict of Interest (Employee Relations Book 1) Page 7