Chapter Eight
Emma
I glance up at the door, expecting to see Clifton again.
Instead, Anton stands in the doorway with a serious expression on his face and my heart sinks from the knot in my gut to the tips of my toes.
What more devastation can he possibly unleash on me?
“Welcome back to the company,” he says simply without explaining this new development at all.
Struggling to trust him after he had turned on me so quickly, I try to figure him out. “Why?” I ask, certain that if the news is too good to be true, then it probably is.
“Clifton made a very compelling argument on your behalf.”
I feel my eyebrows race for my hairline. Of everything he could have said, I think that”s the explanation I expected the least.
The arrogant, smug, handsome Clifton saved my job. Why? Is this some ploy to prove that he”s better than me? Is he just hoping for the opportunity to torture me? Why would he do something nice like save my job?
There must be more to this than I can see right now. “Thank you,” I say, nothing if not polite.
“Don”t let your emotions get the better of you again.” As Anton says the words, he turns and leaves, closing my office door behind him.
And I stand there, staring at the closed door, wondering what the heck just happened.
Why would Clifton save my job?
And how the heck did he get his dad to change his mind? I”ve never known Anton to change his mind once it”s made up. What could Clifton possibly have said that convinced his dad to give me another chance?
The questions circle round and round my mind, leaving me dizzy and sick to my stomach. Amidst my confusion, there”s also a sense of gratitude. Whatever his reasons may be, maybe Clifton isn”t so bad after all.
I hear a slight metal on metal scrape at the door and walk over to see what’s going on. I’m met with a stranger sliding a metal nameplate into the holder on the door.
The nameplate reads Clifton and Emma.
Great. We”re going to be sharing an office. My already difficult job at this firm is quickly becoming a nightmare. I”m grateful not to be fired, but I sense my rehire comes at a cost. One of those costs is sharing an office with the man who infuriates me, makes my life hell, and saved my job.
What an alarming situation.
I glance up and lock eyes with Clifton as he makes his way toward me. There’s a smile on his face, but it doesn”t reach his cold eyes.
I step out of the way of the men moving another desk into my - now shared - office as Clifton closes the distance between us, bringing a wave of fresh pine and rain scent with him. I don’t know what cologne he wears, but it’s the perfect escape I need in the moment.
“Welcome to our humble abode,” I say, waving my hand in an unmistakable gesture at the door. He glances at the nameplate, then back at me, his eyes asking if there’s a problem. As I force a smile to my lips, I notice how confident he seems, and the stoic set to his jaw.
The men leave our office, and he gestures for me to lead the way and follows me in. I turn to face him, well aware that the door is still open.
“Thank you, Clifton-” I say, but he lifts a finger to his lips and closes the door in a covert motion that confuses me.
Once the door clicks closed, he makes his way to his desk and leans on the edge, crossing his arms and studying me.
“Thank you for saving my job, I really appreciate it,” I say, hoping he hears the sincerity in my voice.
He stretches his head from side to side and lifts his shoulders, clearly trying to relieve some muscle tension. “Don”t mention it, I didn”t do it for you.” Despite the clip of his words, I still feel grateful.
“The way I see it, doing a good thing, even for selfish reasons, is still doing a good thing.”
His gaze meets mine. “So you”re an ‘ends justify the means’ kind of woman.”
“To a degree.”
He nods but doesn”t say anything else. Instead, he walks over and sits down at his desk. I do the same, opening my laptop and trying to focus on a case, no easy feat, given all the stress this day has piled on me.
This almost feels like a setup; I”m working on a complex divorce case involving a lot of assets and allegations. I don”t generally handle divorce cases, but I welcomed the challenge right up until today.
As I shift through notes, information, and documents, the time slips away. Lunch hour rolls around and Clifton asks if I’m going to take a break.
I shake my head. “I”m trying to make some progress.” I don”t feel like eating anyway. I”m too nervous and stressed over both the case and Anton’s puzzling behavior.
“I”ll step out then.” Clifton leaves the room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him, and I feel grateful that he’s being thoughtful and diplomatic. Sharing an office with him could be awful, but he’s actually not too bad to be around.
He comes back in a few moments later and sits down. While I want to ask if he”s decided to work through the lunch hour as well, I get back to focusing on an interesting detail I noticed buried in the records and forget all but the new angle I’ve uncovered for this case.
I”m jolted out of my thoughts when I hear a knock at the door. Clifton opens the door to a delivery guy holding two bags of food.
“I have an order for Clifton and Emma?” the delivery person says with a sheepish smile.
“Thank you.” Clifton takes the bags.
I guess having both our names on the door is going to confuse people. It’s not that big a deal, though. Not yet, at least.
Clifton closes the door behind the guy, walks over to my desk and sets one of the bags in front of me. I look at the brown paper bag, then up at him, surprised.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“It”s lunch I ordered for both of us. I hope you don”t mind.” As he says the words, he opens his own bag and takes out a sandwich and a salad.
I recognize the logo for a place in town that makes the best meatball sub around. The rich, tangy scent as he unwraps the foil around his food leaves my mouth watering. How did he know I love their meatball subs?
“Thank you,” I say, peeking in the bag. I take out the hot, foil-wrapped sandwich and salad.
“I don”t know what you like, so I hope that”s okay.” Despite the gruff tone of his voice, I hear a splash of concern as if he’s worried he messed up.
I unwrap the meatball sub and smile over at him. “You hit it out of the park,” I say.
He winks at me and my heart flutters annoyingly. “I’m still not taking a break,” I say, sinking my teeth into the delicious tangy meat and sauce topped with provolone cheese. With a groan, I try to keep my eyes from rolling back in my head. This was exactly what I needed; I just didn’t know it.
He takes a bite of his and eyes me with a serious expression. “I’m sorry about all of this,” he says after swallowing, gesturing at the room.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I say, eyeing the sub and deciding where to bite next. “I’m grateful you saved my job. You don’t have to keep being nice to me. I’ll be civil no matter what.”
“Anton can...” he pauses, then continues, “have his moments.”
Now that I’ve seen the man flip on a dime, I know exactly what he means.
“And it’s my fault he knew you stopped by. I called to tell him not to do anything like that again only to find out you’d acted of your own volition.” Something about the way he says the words makes me think of his father - that’s exactly how Anton would have worded that statement.
“It was my mistake. Sorry about that, by the way.” Now that I”ve seen another side of his father, I can”t help but wonder if I”m wrong about the man. If I’ve been wrong all along, maybe Clifton has good reason to hate his father.
“No need to apologize. I understand how persuasive he can be.” Once again, there”s an odd undercurrent to his voice that makes me wonder if I’ve missed something important.
I want to ask questions, but I don”t dare. Clifton did save my job, but that doesn”t mean he”s in my corner or on my side. I have no doubt his first loyalty lies with his father if for no other reason than to save himself from jail, charges, and whatever else he might be running from.
So I say nothing at all, making sure not to incriminate myself. I don”t need to get in any more trouble or be fired again. If Anton has any reason to doubt my loyalty, I”ll be right back on that chopping block, and I’d rather not wind up there again.
I take another bite of my food, savoring the delicious meal. His next words make me freeze and my attention shifts to him.
“Is there any chance we can let bygones be bygones and start over fresh?”
He”s got me painted into a corner and he wants to start over?
I don”t understand the reason he”d say something like that and I”m cautious, not trusting his motives.
“Sure,” I say, trying to decode his meaning in those incredible green eyes of his.
He smiles and I sense his relief as his shoulders droop and the tension seems to drain out of him. “Thank you.”
He pauses, then continues speaking. “And about those kisses-”
“I thought we were starting fresh,” I say quickly, and a devilish grin lights up his features.
“Trust me,” he says.
Trust him? How can I trust the guy who went behind my back and talked to his father, nearly costing me my job? Sure, he got it back, but he’s the reason I lost it in the first place.
I know I”m not being fair; my own actions are what cost me my job.
Not so bad after all. Maybe he really is trying to be nice and smooth things over between us. Maybe I should give him a chance.
As I search his expression for any hint that he”s ready to betray me, I see an unexpected vulnerability in his eyes as his jaw tightens and his throat flexes like he’s swallowing hard. He’s clearly waiting for my response, and I take a deep breath.
Do I really want to trust someone who behaves the way he does?
I exhale slowly and nod my head. “Fine,” I say.
“I’ll kiss you anytime you like, anywhere you want, wherever you prefer.” That devilish sparkle in his eyes intensifies as his words send a white-hot flare through my body as the possibilities crash like waves through my stunned brain.
“That’s not going to happen,” I say.
But he’s not convinced. “If you need to pretend you’re not interested because I’m your boss’s son, I understand.”
No, he doesn’t understand, obviously. But as I shake my head, ready to explain how wrong he is, he continues speaking. “Don’t worry, we can keep this between us.”
There will be nothing to keep between us.
But even as annoyed as I am, the smile on his face leaves me wondering if this is the start of something new, maybe the start of a friendship.
I know that Clifton is a joker, so maybe this is just his way of breaking the ice and making me more comfortable.
I can only hope so, at least.
Not that I haven’t been thinking about his kisses since they happened.
But that’s none of his business.