7. Kavi
KAVI
Iwouldn’t describe myself as assertive or fierce, save for one situation in my past.
Even when warranted, I don’t generally defend myself or have overt emotional reactions leading to tantrums or meltdowns. I don’t rage or throw vases against walls; I never pound my feet or jab my finger in the air to make a point.
Instead, I tend to be mild-mannered and inward. Calm and composed in most situations.
It’s not to say I don’t feel such emotions as anger and bitterness, because I do, just like anyone else. But generally, I keep them bottled up, hidden behind placatory nods, fidgeting fingers, and rapid breaths.
I suppose it’s my way of sticking it to those who want to see a bigger reaction. Those who expect me to burst into tears and beg for mercy after having pushed me to my limits.
But on most days, I’m satisfied knowing the joke is on them.
That they’ll never get the reaction they’re waiting for. They didn’t when I was in high school—when I was mocked and bullied for everything from my clothes to my shapely body to the crumpled-up dollars Mom shoved into my pocket for lunch—and they won’t now.
Which is why it shocks me to have witnessed a side of myself today I’ve worked hard to conceal.
Who was that woman demanding an apology and holding her ground? Where did she come from?
Did I really strut into my dickface boss’s office to hand in my resignation, dripping with overt sarcasm and disdain? Was that really me, or did I somehow inhabit someone else’s body? Someone far more audacious and fearless than I’ve ever been.
But God, it felt good.
Not that he’ll shed a single tear. The gorgeous bastard’s probably smirking, silently pumping his fist in victory, but at least it felt good to me.
I would have handed it to him right after the mortifying conference room experience, but I figured I’d take the day to think about it—weigh it out before making a rash decision.
I waited for him all day to give me some semblance of a genuine apology, especially after he hurled his ‘I’m sorry’ at me like a worn-out, two-word script, before storming off like a petulant child. But when he raged at me, looking like an angry tomato, no less, after finding me in the restricted office for a routine maintenance issue, I decided enough was enough.
Yes, my family needed this money—fucking big time—but Mom would be appalled if she found out I was trading in my dignity and peace of mind for it.
Hadn’t I learned my lesson in high school to not let the bullies win?
Hadn’t I already lost so much?
Why put myself through something like that again? Why let my self-worth be determined by someone else’s impossible standards? Isn’t that exactly what I used to preach to him when we were younger?
Sure, I’d have to find another job quickly. And if that meant scouring the job boards and doing something for a fraction of the pay, I’d rather do that than sit here all summer, shredding the little self-confidence I’ve worked so hard to hold on to.
With my heart knocking against my chest, I walk to the elevator with a sense of urgency and determination, trying to keep my feet from tripping on themselves. Every step shoots tremors through my body; every cell revolting, unsure of who I really am.
This isn’t me—this bold, self-assured imposter I’m pretending to be—but fuck, I don’t want to let her go just yet.
Taking in shuddered breaths, I step into the open elevator and press the button for the lobby when hurried footsteps come to a stop in front of the doors, and Mr. Case joins me inside.
Eyes widened, I try to find my words. “Wh—”
“I don’t accept.” With one hand in his pocket, he holds up the paper I’d left on his desk, now crumpled.
My mind goes blank and I blink. “I’m sorry? What do you mean, you don’t accept?”
The elevator doors close, and I’m trapped as we start descending the forty-two floors.
His nostrils flare as if it’s beneath him to have to repeat himself. The jackass. “I mean, I don’t accept. You’ve only been here two days. You haven’t even given this a real chance.”
I stare at him in complete bewilderment. Just hours ago, he was concocting situations for me to quit, yelling at me every chance he got, and now he claims I didn’t give the job a real chance?
“Are you on drugs?” I ask, because the question warrants asking.
He huffs out an exasperated breath. Exasperated! Ha! Like he should have anything to be exasperated about! “Drugs might be a good solution at this point.”
“What?” I lean in as if to glean some meaning behind his words.
“Never mind,” he says with a resigned shake of his head. “Like I said, I won’t accept your resignation.”
I squint, first at the floor and then at him. “Why? You can barely stand me. Notwithstanding your threat to fire me just earlier today, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t want me here.”
He rakes a hand down his face. “We’re one final signature away from getting the RCS deal. Apparently, their CEO saw your updates and was impressed. He wants to meet the person who will be replacing Belinda for the next few months.”
My mouth falls open in a soft, “Ah,” as understanding settles my whirring thoughts. “Of course, that’s what it is . . . You need me to save this deal. Because what would your clients think if you still didn’t have a replacement for your admin after knowing all these months that she’d eventually take maternity leave?” I chuckle mirthlessly. “Well, good luck with that, Mr. Case.”
He doesn’t deign me with a response, both his hands now in his pockets as he stares up at the digital counter displaying each floor we’re passing.
And since he doesn’t have the courtesy of providing me with more than his silence, I don’t say anything, either. Until he glances down at me standing next to him. “So, will you stay?”
I bark out a laugh again. The balls on this guy!
“Perhaps you’re incapable of reading the room, or a blatantly clear resignation in this case, or maybe you’re being purposefully obtuse. Either way, let me state it in no uncertain terms. No, Mr. Case, I will not be staying.”
I’m jolted back a second later, my hands flying up as I try to find my balance when a warm hand wraps around my elbow, keeping me steady. I blink rapidly, realizing he’s pressed the emergency stop button. “Wha . . . what are you doing?”
Aren’t there cameras in here? Won’t that button set off an alarm or something?
Don’t people get murdered like this?
My anxious eyes crash with his before he takes a step forward, erasing the little space between us, and I take a small step back, making more. My palms find the metal bar on the wall behind me as I try to make myself as small as possible.
He towers above me, his hands back in his pockets, with that cool confidence he always seems to exude. The outline of his muscular biceps molds to his shirtsleeves while his chest puffs out even wider, and the scent of pine and lavender cologne has my nipples puckering inside my shirt.
My tongue peeks out, swiping over my bottom lip as I take in his chiseled jaw and that salt-and-pepper scruff that surrounds his plush, pillowy lips.
Jesus, the man is a sculptor’s dream brought to life.
And now those lips are turned upward in a smug smirk.
My eyes snap to his, watching as the crows’ feet around his eyes dance with mirth. Whatever he thinks he’s seen, he can be sure it isn’t that, so he can go right ahead and wipe that cocky grin off his face.
Yes, I find him physically appealing—the evidence of my attraction is a warm pool inside my panties—but that’s the extent of it, because I’m not in the habit of pining after gorgeous men with the personalities of cacti.
He leans in. “Why did you want this job?”
I raise my head, hoping to make myself look more confident. “Clearly not because of your sunshiny personality. It was for the money, obviously.”
“Why?”
I snort. “Why does anyone need money, Mr. Case? To pay past-due bills, student loans, and my mom’s lease . . .” I take in a tattered breath, realizing it’s too late to take back the unnecessary information. “Why does it matter to you?”
His lips thin. “It doesn’t.”
“Great,” I retort, keeping myself from adding ‘asshole’ to the end. I shift, unable to help brushing my chest against his to push the start button. “Then you should have no problems letting me get on with my—”
But before I can finish, Mr. Case’s hand wraps around my wrist, sending goosebumps not just scurrying up my arm, but traveling the length of my spine and back. “I’ll double your salary for the next three months if you stay.”
Cue my jaw dropping to the floor. “What?”
His steely eyes pin me in place, his hand still gently holding my wrist. “I’m not in the habit of begging, Ms. Jain.”
I pull my wrist from his hand and wrap my arms around my chest, not missing the way his eyes drag down to catch the movement. “Nor are you in the habit of apologizing.”
The barest smile strains my lips witnessing the twitch in his right eye. “Is that what this is about? I already apologized for this morning.”
“It wasn’t good enough and you know it,” I retort, enunciating my words. “Not even two hours later, you exploded at me in your brother’s old office.”
His shoulders straighten as understanding settles in his eyes.
Maybe he thought I wouldn’t find out the history behind the locked office, but after Belinda saw the way he treated me today—not once, but twice—we had a long chat about why he is the way he is.
I could tell she wasn’t telling me everything, but I gleaned the fact that while he’s always had the charm of a damp kitchen rag, his brother’s betrayal really messed him up. That betrayal only heightened his need for order, work-ethic, and loyalty.
He huffs, swiveling his head toward the elevator panel, seemingly contemplating his life’s decisions that led him to this point. I swear he’s quiet for so long, I look over to see if he’s fallen asleep standing up.
“Fine. I apologize for my conduct at both the meeting and in Jett’s old office.” I don’t miss the way he tenses saying his brother’s name. “It was . . . uncalled for and demeaning.”
My eyebrow arches in surprise. Not too shabby for a reluctant apology, though he did look like he’d just taken a swig of brackish seawater.
Seawater, that I hope causes him a bout of temporary diarrhea.
I push my luck. “And for being an asshole to me on my first day. And for the way you fired me from my job at your restaurant.”
“Fine.” He scowls. “I apologize for all of that, too.”
“So, let me get this straight. You’ll double my exorbitant salary for the next three months if I stay on as your admin.”
“I’ll also need you to take over managing the excavation project here in the city for the new high-rise. It’ll require you to be nearby, in case you need to approve deliveries and last-minute changes. Sometimes our clients want to go to dinner spontaneously—”
“I’m not sure I understand.” I shake my head. “What do you mean, I need to be nearby?”
“Nearby, Ms. Jain. As in, not on the other fucking side of the Bay.”
Is he . . .? Is he expecting me to move?
“But I live on the other side of the Bay. At the moment, my car is at the shop as well, so my office hours are dependent on the subway schedule.”
His head lifts defiantly. “That doesn”t work for me. You’ll need to move to the city, at least for three months.”
I’m just about to argue when a loud buzzing interrupts us and a man’s voice comes over the speaker. “Hello? Is everything okay in there? The emergency stop was pushed.”
Oh, well, thanks for waking up, Edgar!
Keeping his eyes on me, Mr. Case responds, “We’re fine, Edgar. I’ll restart the elevator when I’m ready.”
Restart the elevator when he’s ready? He’s so casual in the way he says it, like this is just another Tuesday and the elevator is his personal conference room.
Has he trapped other women in here . . . and done things?
Something bitter rolls around my tongue at the thought before slithering down to my stomach as we both wait until Edgar clicks off with a, “Sounds good, sir.”
“I can’t move to the city, Mr. Case—”
“Call me Hudson. And yes, with the salary I’ll be paying you, you can.”
“No, I can’t.” I scoff. “You might be doubling my pay, but what would be the point of that if I’m just spending it on more rent? Plus, I need to be able to get to my mom and my brother in case they need me.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, silence stretching between us, before his eyes train on me again and something passes through his expression. Something he’s reluctantly weighing out as evidenced first by the way he swipes his thumb over his bottom lip before squeezing his eyes shut, as if his next words are about to cause him physical pain. “Fine. Then move into my apartment a block from here. You’ll have access to my chauffeured car anytime you need to visit your mom and brother.”
My mouth falls open for what feels like the hundredth time throughout this strange ten-minute adventure while dangling in an elevator, somewhere between the tenth and eleventh floors. “You can’t be serious.”
He shifts, taking a step back before pressing some button on the control panel that makes the elevator restart. “As serious as the extra income about to hit your bank account.”
“Hudson, I can’t live with you.”
“Why not?”
My face contorts as I look at him like he’s grown three heads. “Because you don’t like me. And I, for one, don’t want to live with a man who’s about as fun as a root canal and can barely even stand to look at me, let alone talk to me. I also refuse to live with someone who isn’t very nice.”
“Liking or not liking you is irrelevant to this arrangement. And I am being nice. It’s why I offered you more money, a place to live, and chauffeur service!”
My shoulders stiffen, and for the first time in my life, I watch my own finger jab the air. “No, you’re offering those things to me because you need me. Don’t turn this around to make it look like I begged for it, Hudson. As you might recall, I turned in my resignation fifteen minutes ago.”
Hudson’s fingers plunder into his dark hair. “Fine, you’re right about that, but it’s not like I’m champing at the bit to live with you, either. However, given the situation, it makes sense. It’s just a mutually beneficial and temporary living arrangement. Nothing more.”
“Oh, wow.” I scoff condescendingly, rolling my eyes. “If those heartfelt words don’t convince me, I don’t know what will.”
The elevator comes to a stop on the bottom floor, the doors opening to an empty, brightly lit lobby, and I step out, untying my umbrella to be able to step out into the rain, when Hudson’s voice has my feet coming to a halt. “Kavi.”
The tiniest of flutters dance around my stomach at the sound of my name on his lips, and I turn around to face him. There’s a plea in his eyes. And while I don’t know him well, I’d say that’s a rare look for him.
His throat bobs with a swallow. “Stay”.