‘That’s more like it.’ I find Everett’s smile however, more like a deluge of rain. ‘I do love a good working relationship.’
‘Yeah?’ I snort my disinterest, at the same time as my hands turn to fists.
‘Especially when the subordinate does as she’s told.’
My head turns to him like the turret of a tank. ‘Well, I don’t work for you so you can kiss my ass.’
‘That’s not in my remit, Heidi.’ Why does it sound like everything the asshole says is through a smug grin?
‘Urgh! Do me a favour.’ I rotate back to Remy. ‘When you go fencing tonight, poke him for me.’
‘And that’s certainly not in my remit.’ There’s an almost playful curl to his words.
‘Told you, Heidi. This is a poke-free zone.’
‘Would you stop calling me that? Please,’ I add with extra snark. It’s really beginning to become annoying, as well as freaky. Is it a coincidence, or has he somehow intuited the name of my waitressing alter-ego? Unless . . . Oh, God. What if Remy told him about my waitressing gig? Only, Rhett’s been calling me Heidi for longer. So how in the hell does he know?
‘A Rose by any other name, and all that.’
‘You are not quoting Shakespeare to me right now,’ I retort with a tense laugh.
‘Rhett, get out. And if you don’t want to be pitched out of the window, I suggest you do it quickly.’
‘Got it, boss man,’ he says, drawing his long frame up from the chair. He saunters to the door, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, my work is done here, anyway.
I bite back my retort of, who’s the subordinate now, asswipe? Instead calling,’ I hope your day is filled with people like you!’ after him. I even throw in a little wave.
‘You know he aimed to annoy you, Rose.’
‘Then he was trying too hard.’ Being in the same room is enough. ‘Did you tell him about the place I worked before I moved here?’ Remy maintains his even expression. Meanwhile, I am pretty disgusted with myself. When did I become a coward? ‘At the strip club,’ I add, almost choking on the words.
‘Would you like me to?’
‘Ha!’ So he can think up some other god-awful name? No thanks. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ve delivered your bag, patted your guard dog.’ And now I need to leave because I can barely stand myself.
‘I’ll see you at lunch.’ He makes it sound like a long-standing date, rather than an impersonal request through the app. ‘A little later today. I have a meeting.’ Worse than personal is high-handed. Does he think I’m his to command, in more ways than listed in my work contract?
‘I won’t be here for lunch,’ I find myself answering. ‘You can send me your request, and I’ll get Charlie or one of the others to deliver it.’
‘No, you will bring lunch.’
‘I can’t. I’m busy.’ Annoyance builds alongside determination.
‘We eat lunch together every day.’
‘For no other reason than I have to.’ The lie is out of my mouth before I can temper it.
‘You don’t mean that.’ His lush lips firming, his eyes are suddenly more agate than emerald as he pushes off the table, sending my pulse skittering.
‘It’s true. I’m here in no other capacity than your employee.’ Who reset my brain to uber-bitch today?
‘Ah. So that’s it? I hope you’ve been satisfied thus far by the scope of your work.’ His voice is made for seduction, the rasp in it reminding me of the roughness of his hands. When I can’t find the words to answer, he speaks again. ‘I for one have been more than satisfied with how you’ve performed under me.’
‘High praise,’ I find myself murmuring, a dozen images of just that flickering through my brain. ‘I wonder how many of your employees you can apply that to.’ Because screw his work-based innuendo.
‘It shouldn’t matter.’ His fingers skim my face in a shiver-inducing caress. ‘The important thing to acknowledge is—
‘That I always achieve the desired outcome?’ Because let me tell you, I’m prepared to lie through my teeth right now.
‘No, the important thing is that I undress you as my superior. Always.’
‘Remy, don’t.’ As I step back, I wonder if this is what a withdrawal to an addiction feels like.
‘Don’t what? Want you so much I can feel it in my fingertips? Because I’m afraid I can’t help it.’
‘I’m going now.’ Because, the truth is, I can see it happening all before me. I’ll lean into his hand, and he’ll kiss me. Next, we’ll tear at each other’s clothes, mouths greedy and fingers grasping. I can see it all, the images playing out like a movie in my head, so compelling, I can’t stop them. But I can stop them from becoming reality, beginning with feigning an air of artificial boredom
‘No, Rose.’ His fingers find my chin, tilting my gaze to his. ‘Don’t look at me with indifference. I can take your anger but not your apathy.’