IB #2
“Wow,” she mocks. “You’re a real prince amongst mortals, there, Zaxton .” She snorts. “What kind of name is Zaxton anyway? Paxton, Jaxson, Saxton even, but I’ve never heard of a Zaxton.”
My eyes narrow into menacing slits. I can be terrifying when motivated. “A none of your business, intern , name. Speaking of names…” I raise my eyebrow expectantly at her.
“Nuh-uh. I’ll be fired for sure if you know who I am.”
I have no idea what that means, but I don’t care enough right now to fish for more answers.
I can’t stand to watch her flounder about another second whether she wants my help or not.
Bending down, I loop my arm around her hips, pulling the majority of her weight up to spare her knees.
I do my best to ignore the way her body feels against mine.
And how good she smells. Perfume, shampoo, body wash, or her natural fragrance, whatever it is, if I could bottle it up, I’d make more billions.
Once she’s upright, albeit a bit wobbly, I take a step back, releasing her as fast as I can without her falling back to the ground.
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “And thank you for saving my purse. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to fight him for it, but I’ve had enough of people taking from me and walking all over me to let it happen with some kid.
” Turning away from me, she starts hobbling one-heeled up the steps again, anxious to get inside and away from me. Is she for real?
“You’re dripping blood everywhere,” I call after her, hating how quick she was to dismiss me. Hating how I want her eyes back on mine. “Will you stop? You can barely walk like this.”
She emits an exasperated sigh because she knows I’m right. Blood is running all down her legs and across her heelless foot and even into the other remaining good shoe.
I’m fed up with this game.
“I don’t remember asking for your—ah!” She belts out a half-scream as in the next second her legs are swooped out from beneath her and I’m lifting her directly up into my chest. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you in. You’re bleeding all over my steps and were just attacked. I have to make sure you’re okay.”
I hold her tightly against me while I carry her bride-style up the steps.
She’s tall and thin, but with perfect fucking curves in all the right places.
Her hair kicks up in my face as I adjust her, assaulting me with her delicious scent.
I pull her in closer, liking the way she feels against me a little too much.
What is that fragrance? A goddamn summer afternoon in the country with wind, wildflowers, and sun?
It’s killing me not to bury my nose in her silky hair and breathe it in deeper.
“I can walk,” she protests, completely oblivious to what she’s doing to me.
“I beg to differ. Stop squirming.”
“I’d stop squirming if you put me down.”
“We’re almost there. Now stop. Squirming.” My hand on her thigh clenches in warning, and she gives up the protest.
“I’m trying not to get your suit sleeve covered in my blood.”
“Appreciated, but I’m going to be changing suits in a few minutes anyway.”
She laughs bitterly at that. “That your standard practice, Mr. Monroe? Just how many wardrobe changes a day do you have?”
My head tilts down, my eyes dark and hooded lock with hers. I smirk at how brazen she is with me. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you for an intern speaking to her boss on her first day.”
She shrugs against me, trying to keep her face hidden since people are absolutely staring at us. I can’t exactly blame them either. Of the many, many things I’m known for, carrying damsels in distress up the steps and into my building isn’t one of them.
The door opens, a blast of frigid air making her shiver when it hits the blood on her skin. I press her tighter. “You all right there?”
“I’m fine. Totally great. I mean, considering it’s my first day and I was nearly mugged, the heel of my shoe snapped, and I’m bleeding like a bad bitch out of hell.
Oh, and I’m swearing at my boss who just so happens to be you of all people.
” She claps a hand over her mouth, murmuring, “Sorry,” through her fingers.
“I just.” A heavy sigh. “I didn’t want to see you like this.
I didn’t think I’d ever have to see you at all.
That’s what he said and then you swoop in to save the day and I. .. I’m done talking now.”
I’m not sure I understand anything she’s saying. My confusion must be evident because she gnaws on her lip and shakes her head, indicating to me she’s not going to clarify.
“Mr. Monroe, what happened?” The lobby security guard walks briskly by our side as I carry her over to a bank of seats along the wall between the elevators and floor-to-ceiling windows.
“She got hurt outside on the steps. Do we have a first aid kit down here, George?”
“Of course, sir. I’ll go fetch it right away.”
George scurries off just as I place her upright on the cushioned leather. Then I’m kneeling before her, tugging my white silk handkerchief from my breast pocket, and pressing it against the cut that’s bleeding the most.
I know it has to burn. Her chin wobbles and she sucks in a sharp breath as her pretty blue eyes glass over.
“You know his name.” It’s a half whisper as she stares down at her knees, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Yes. I know his name.” My tone is terse. “I know his wife’s name as well as his children’s names. He’s been working here since I was a kid and he’s a good man.”
Her head bobs up and down. “Didn’t mean for that to come out as judgmental as it sounded.” She tilts her head. “Or maybe I did. Sorry.” She touches the sleeve of my suit coat. “My blood is on you.”
My eyes stay locked on her pretty face. “Should that bother me?”
“Doesn’t it?”
Does it? It feels like it should be gross, yet it’s erotic in some strange way.
“No.”
She peeks up at me through her long lashes, a coy smile curving up her lips, and the air leaves my lungs like someone just drove a knife right through my chest. She’s easily the most stunning heartbreaker I’ve ever encountered.
“Does everyone hop to and do your bidding the second you snap your fingers?” she asks, ignoring everything but my sour attitude while dropping her broken shoe to the floor and checking her watch. She’s late or getting there. So am I for that matter, but I don’t care all that much right now.
I like her attitude. I like that she fought back even though it cost her her shoe and knees. I like her snapping at me and calling me out on my shit and asking me bold questions no one ever has the balls to ask.
“Yes,” I answer flatly, still crouched before her, unable to so much as shift away from her.
“You’re quite the intimidating man.”
I grunt in dismay at her cheeky tone and mockingly flirty expression.
“No, I mean it,” she insists. “You are. I bet you can feel it every time you touch me.”
My eyebrows bounce in surprise and my grip on her calf tightens, while my other still presses in on her wound. I intimidate her, but she’s not afraid of me.
“What exactly does my touch do to you?” Thumbs on both hands brush back and forth along her skin and goose bumps erupt in their wake, her pupils expanding ever so slightly.
Fuck.
That’s what my touch does to her. I’m not the only one feeling this.
I shouldn’t be reacting to her—she is an intern and this is not what I do—but it’s as if my brain and body are on disconnect.
Because I know her elegantly radiant face.
I never catalog a woman’s features anymore.
Not beyond the scope of professionalism and necessity of business.
But I know her face from somewhere.
“Repulses me,” she whispers, still half-smiling at me.
“Is that so?” My thumbs brush again, dragging a longer trail on her skin, and her breath skitters in a sharp hiccup. I smirk arrogantly. “Are you always this much of a brat to people who help you?”
“I think it’s just with you. You seem to have a strange effect on me.”
“What if I like having this effect on you?” Not words I should be saying to her, but again, I want to see how she reacts to me if for no other reason than my own perverse need.
Mercifully and before this can go any further, George returns, proudly carrying the first aid kit. “Sir, you’re needed upstairs.”
“Tell them—”
“I can take it from here,” she interrupts, snatching the kit out of George’s hand. Swinging her legs out of my grip, she places them up on the seat and pops open the white top of the large box, effectively dismissing me.
I stand, pocketing the blood-soaked handkerchief when I should throw it away.
“Thank you for your help,” she tells me, forcing a weak smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m sorry if I was short or even insubordinate with you. It’s obviously already been a day for me and hopefully, you can pretend I was nothing but respectful and polite.”
I scowl, annoyed with everything. Her. Me. The way I want to clean her wounds and bandage her up. How I want more time with her when I shouldn’t.
Without another word, I’m gone. The tap of my perfect, non-broken shoes on the marble floors echoes through the lobby that is progressively growing more and more crowded as the official start to the day approaches.
The elevator is already there waiting, but before I step on, I glance back in her direction.
Our eyes lock for the briefest of seconds, my pulse jumps, and then I’m on the elevator alone.
No one else daring to step on while I’m in here.
I press the button for the top floor and curse under my breath as the doors close.
What the fuck did I just do with that girl and why do I want to do it all over again?
I scrub my hands up my face. I never should have gotten out of bed this morning.