Chapter 9 #3
Corm, Cal, and Declan are alphas, whose egos cause small testosterone explosions. Yet I have never had a problem playing an equal.
With Liam Stone, I’m constantly catching up. The man is impossible.
The worst part—besides his attraction—is that he’s capable, really good at his job. I’m learning from him. In a hostile environment, but still.
“I’m glad to hear that. See you in half an hour.” Cal saunters away.
A wave of nausea sweeps through me, and I rush into the bathroom on my way to the boardroom. The sharp bluish light blurs my vision.
I let cold water cool my wrists.
Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four.
Hold. One. Two. Three. Four.
Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four.
The wave of nausea subsides somewhat. My reflection in the mirror screams at me to take care of myself. The shadows under my eyes are deeper. The foundation didn’t help with the now-almost-transparent skin.
Despite the donut diet, I’ve lost weight, I think, or my cheekbones have just sagged.
Come on, body, we can cope for a few more weeks. I’m halfway to getting that twenty percent, and effectively grasping mine and Tee’s freedom.
I know my family will still try to manipulate me, but when my father gives his word, he keeps it.
He gave his word, because just like everyone else, he underestimated me. And I’ll be damned if I’ll prove him right.
I will get my freedom. “You’ve got this.” My voice doesn’t sound like mine.
As I step outside, I come up against a solid wall of muscle, the familiar scent humming through my body.
“Ready?” Liam asks, stepping back like I burned him.
“Of course,” I lie.
He gives me a curt nod and takes off. I trip over my own feet, trying to catch up with him. No way I’m following. I will make it to that boardroom first.
We reach the door at the same time. Liam looks down his nose at me. “After you.”
Smug bastard. Being here first loses its value. Fuck, this competition is robbing me of common sense.
I march to the corner and pour myself a coffee. I turn at the soft hum. Of course, he set up the projector already.
Having left my maturity at home this morning, I abandon the coffee I so desperately need and push him to the side. “I can do this.”
I run my fingers over the keyboard, looking for our presentation.
“Suit yourself.” Liam moves away.
Of course, my scattered mind doesn’t collaborate, and I can’t find the stupid file.
Two years ago, I designed our online filing system. No one knows it better than me.
I groan in frustration. Liam leans over, placing my coffee beside me.
His body envelops me as he covers my hand over the mouse, and with a few aimed clicks, opens the presentation.
The desk practically digs into my hip.
I don’t move.
A shudder rakes through me at his proximity. His scent. His warmth.
The presentation is open, but he doesn’t move. The room gets unreasonably hot. And as much as I hate to admit it, my underwear gets a little wet.
Desperate to remove myself from the situation while wanting to stay in it, I reach for the coffee and take a sip.
Its sweetness is soothing. “Did you put sugar in my coffee?” It’s absurdly intimate.
I wish I could slide my chair to the side, but his arm has bracketed me in. “You seemed like you needed an extra energy kick.”
His breath brushes the shell of my ear, and another involuntary shudder rakes through me.
I turn my head to look at him, and now our lips are so close I can practically taste him.
My heart stutters. My breath catches. My body angles toward him.
This is the worst idea ever.
I part my lips, my tongue darting out. My eyes flutter closed. My chair jerks, and I sense the loss of his heat immediately.
Disoriented, I blink a few times, gripping the edge of the wooden surface.
Larissa has her back to us, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d steal some breakfast before you start.” She chuckles.
Jesus, that was close. I pretend at relief, even as something in me clenches.
My eyes find Liam’s. His expression is schooled into his usual bored scowl, but the heat in his gaze is undeniable. What the fuck are we doing?
“Do you want to present the first three parts?” he asks.
Is this a trap? A trick? A gift?
That’s exactly what I feel most comfortable presenting, and it’s also the most crucial part of our proposal. Although we created it together, the one presenting it would have the upper hand, seemingly presenting their own ideas.
At least at this internal rehearsal. I thought I would have to fight him on that. And he’s giving me the opportunity to shine.
I want it. I nod, trying not to look at his lips. Fuck, I want them too. I’m so screwed.
And so tired… Because his putting sugar into my coffee, offering for me to present the most crucial part, and almost kissing me brings tears to my eyes.
Exhaustion blurs lines, and turns enemies into temptations.
I hold his gaze, fighting the unnamed emotion. For the first time, I look at him without resentment. Without competition. Without a fight.
I hold it with confusion, because this man is fire and, fuck, I want to burn. But he douses me with ice before the unlikely bond even forms.
“Why are you dressed like that?”