Chapter 13
thirteen
It is literally impossible for this outfit to turn Graham on.
The rich brown turtleneck covers every inch of skin from my chin to my hips. I wear it tucked into a fawn-colored skirt with absolutely no slit to speak of and sport matching sheer tights over my ugliest granny panties.
Full ass coverage is my friend.
So far, Graham’s had equally passionate reactions to my hair being up and down, so I figure something in the middle might be my best bet. Using a tortoiseshell barrette, I clip half of it back into a matronly style. Simple black pumps round out the dull look.
There , I think. No color. No skin. No jewelry .
I’m as far from sexy as a girl can get. Just in case, though, I borrow one of Abuelita’s frumpier coats to throw over everything.
By the end of my commute, I’m freezing, hungry, and my eyes burn. Dominic awaits me at my desk. His gaze flickers over my clothes. I watch the exact moment he decides I’m not currently hot enough to merit any niceties.
His lip curls back. “All bundled up today,” he sneers. “Like a nun in a blizzard.”
I do my best to paste a good-sport smile on my face. “Just guarding against the cold!”
And your pervy ass.
And my own lack of self-control whenever a certain broker sniffs around .
When I slip my coat off and bend to put it in my desk drawer, he changes his tune. “Still lovely, as always,” he hums, somewhat warmer. “Did you make much progress on the items I gave you yesterday? I’m hoping to review them with you over lunch.”
Over lunch ?
It makes sense for Graham to come meet me during my lunch hour because he comes from outside the office, and we’re dealing with Mr. Stryker’s personal holdings. But Dominic asking to meet with me during my break seems decidedly odd. I can’t think of a reason why he would require such a thing aside from some sort of misplaced— pathetic —jealousy.
“I have another lunch meeting with Mr. Everett,” I reply brightly, trying my best not to appear suspicious. “I’ve reserved Pod A for us.”
My thighs clench at the memory of Graham’s voice growling instructions at me. I mash my lips together, busying myself by arranging my work for the day.
Dominic rounds the desk, coming to stand in front of me with his hands on his hips and a peeved expression on his face. “I don’t want you scheduling any more lunch meetings. It’s against company policy.”
I want to glower at him but force a bewildered face instead. “Oh dear, is it? I just assumed it was acceptable since Mr. Stryker dropped in on my meeting yesterday and didn’t mention any issue with the timing. He actually thanked me for working during lunchtime. But if you think it’s an issue, then, of course, I’ll adjust accordingly.”
Carajo . That last part veered dangerously close to sarcasm.
“I don’t think I like your tone, Miss Rivera,” Dominic snaps.
My jaw clenches against the urge to point out that he never uses my last name. When my tits are out, I’m Juliet . He’s even dared to call me Jules on a few occasions.
Exhaling through my nose, I raise my face. “My apologies. I was up very late and haven’t caffeinated sufficiently.” I throw in a coy smile, knowing it will stroke his endless ego. “Forgive me?”
He gives a curt nod. “Just don’t get into the habit of scheduling lunch meetings.” Walking away, he issues one last demand over his shoulder. “I expect notes on all of the cases I dropped off yesterday by tomorrow morning.”
The reality of another sleepless night settles over me. My shoulders hunch. “Yes, sir.”
Dominic’s door slams. Beth appears in the archway of the legal department behind me. I turn just in time to catch her glaring at my boss’s office before her sharp gray gaze flits to mine. “Miss Rivera?”
It’s much easier to find a smile this time. “Good morning, Beth. I wish you’d call me Juliet. Or Jules, even.”
Beth’s tight lips spread into a rare smile. “Juliet, then.” She glances over my shoulder for another second before settling back on me. “Is Mr. Carter giving you grief?”
I try for a bright, breezy tone. “Nothing I can’t handle. Did you need something?”
She eyes me intently. “Mr. Stryker would like to speak with you privately this afternoon. His schedule allows for a three o’clock. Will that do?”
Panic grips me. Why does Mr. Stryker want a one-on-one with me ?
Anything work related could be discussed in front of my colleagues. And it certainly won’t be anything untoward; Mr. Stryker clearly adores his fiancée.
Marco deleted the elevator footage, so he doesn’t have any reason to reprimand or terminate me. Unless…
Dios mío. He saw us yesterday.
For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel like crying. All of my hard work and determination is spiraling down the drain—all because of a man I don’t even like and shouldn’t want.
I know I deserve whatever I have coming, though. I cringe just thinking of what Mr. Stryker might have witnessed.
“Three?” I croak back. “Yes, ma’am.”
Beth’s somber gaze feels heavy on my face. “All right,” she replies slowly, her lips pursed as she considers me. “I’ll let him know.”
Could my day get any worse?
Little do I know.