He pushes off the wall, his movements smooth and vulturine as he approaches. “You’re not planning to walk home alone, are you?”
My mouth opens and closes, words failing on my tongue. In the year I’ve been a paralegal here, the partners have never acknowledged me, let alone proven they know my name. I’m a wallflower. A wallflower that works overtime and deserves a raise, but I doubt my submission has made the bigwigs of the firm suddenly aware of my presence.
One thing about being an introvert: we pay attention. To everyone. And Price Wells is a watcher. Like me, only he does so on a much more profound level. He studies people, analyzes and dissects them. In short, he freaks me the hell out. And up until now, I’ve evaded his notice. When I put in for the open supervisor position of my department, gaining the attention of the creepy partner was not my intention.
If it is the reason, I’m tempted to hunt down my application and destroy it.
I grip my purse strap, concealing the tremble of my hand. “I’ll be fine. I don’t live far from here.” I attempt a smile, but I’m aware of how forced it comes across. The awkward twitch of my facial muscles. Wells narrows his eyes, not missing my tell.
“But it’s late,” he says, bringing out a phone from his pocket. “Let me get you a company car. I’d feel much better knowing—”
“Miss Wilde already has arranged transportation.”
Jesus. My he
art batters my chest as Chase steps from a shadowed corner. This narrow hallway isn’t big enough to accommodate their very large presence. And I’m in the center, scrambling to gain some sense of composure over this strange encounter.
“Thank you,” I say, looking between the two men, then quickly stepping away. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way home.”
“It’s a shame your talents have been overlooked, Miss Wilde,” Wells says to me, but his gaze is evaluating the other man. “Until now, that is.” His eyes are on me then, an arrogant smile splitting his face.
I stop moving.
“Her recent submission will be taken up by me,” Chase addresses the other partner, his dark tone sending a shiver along my skin.
“I’m sure it will be.” Wells grins before he shrugs off the tension. “Very well. I know my place.” His gaze drills through me. “But should you ever tire of Chase’s mundane tasks, I’m very interested, Miss Wilde. Remember that.”
He lowers his head in a curt bow, which feels completely out of place here. I can only stare after him as he makes a swift departure.
“What is happening,” I say. I don’t mean to speak the words aloud. They rush out of me as quickly as fear threads my spine, immobilizing my body.
“You’re being advanced, Miss Wilde.”
My head whips around. “This is not about a work promotion.”
Chase releases a tense breath through his nose, his piercing blue gaze directed on me. “You’re too perceptive.”
A soundless laugh escapes me in a relieved rush. “Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but—”
“You do that a lot,” he accuses.
With courage I don’t feel, I lift my chin. At this point, I’m too drained from the turbulence of my emotions to worry about how a named partner perceives me. “What do I do?”
The smirk twisting his mouth doesn’t match the gravity of his stare, the way his gaze holds me captive as he advances. I’m ensnared, but I have no idea what the nature of the trap is. All I comprehend is the wary feeling stealing over me the closer he gets.
I’m not ready.
“You apologize too much,” he explains. Once he’s standing before me, I’m unable to look anywhere but up into his face. A hint of stubble brushes his otherwise smooth skin. For some reason, this one detail douses the escalating fear, making him appear more human, rather than the god he’s perceived to be.
And when he smiles, revealing the dimple in his left cheek, I fixate on that feature—my toes curling over the edge of the proverbial cliff.
“That’s a bad habit we’ll have to break,” he says, a glint in his squinted gaze. “If you’re going to work with my clients, that is. And really, I don’t believe you’re as weak as you want others to believe.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I register what he said: work with his clients. He wouldn’t say it unless he means it.
His smile slants, lighting his dark features. “You shouldn’t be. It’s a compliment.”
“Thanks,” is my feeble reply. I don’t have the brain power to deduce backhanded compliments from my very intimidating boss right now. I glance behind me, eyeing the door just feet away.