Chapter 17
WORTH
“You did what?” I practically roar, the sound bouncing off the glass walls of my office.
Henson just stands there, a stupid grin plastered across his face, like this is all some big joke. “I invited her to join the Singapore trip,” he repeats, casual as hell. As if he didn’t just light a match and toss it into gasoline.
I drag a hand down my face, trying to steady my breathing. My blood turns hot—I hate how easily my brother can get under my skin. “You had no right.”
“She’s working on the damn project, Worth. Why wouldn’t she go? You should be thanking me. It’ll be good for her.”
Good for her. Not for me. Not for my sanity.
I start pacing. The thought of Mya in Singapore—on the plane, in the hotel, on job sites with me—is enough to make my brain short-circuit.
Henson wants to put us in the same city, the same fucking meetings, side by side?
Christ.
“She’s not ready,” I bite out. It’s a weak excuse, and Henson knows it.
“She’s more than ready,” he fires back, crossing his arms. “I’ve seen her work. Mya is talented. Hungry. She should be getting exposure, not locked behind a desk.”
I glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s always been the calm and reasonable brother. The one who doesn’t let his cock dictate his decisions.
I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from balling them into fists. “You don’t understand.”
“I don’t? You’ve been off your game for weeks, Worth. Snapping at Dre. Ignoring Griffin. Hell, even Brianna noticed. You think I don’t know what’s going on here?”
My nostrils flare. “Drop it.”
He studies me for a beat, weighing whether to push. Finally, he shrugs. “Fine. But Mya is going. Deal with it.”
He turns to leave, and I follow him to the door, trying one last time to convince him it isn’t a good idea.
“I don’t want Mya there, Henson.”
And of course, that’s when Mya passes by my office. Her head jerks up, eyes widening like I just stabbed her in the chest. She gives me a glare but doesn’t stop, doesn’t say a word, just all but bolts down the hall.
Goddamnit.
That’s twice now she’s overheard me talk about her.
I rub my forehead. If I’m not more careful, she’ll have HR breathing down my neck, and honestly, she’d have every right.
I sure as hell gave her the ammo.
That’s why I’ve been avoiding her. Because a small, ugly piece of me is ashamed at the way I cornered her at the gala.
How I propositioned her in a corridor as if I wasn’t negotiating something that would rearrange her entire world.
Because if she looks me in the eye, I’ll have to own it—I’ll have to say I’m sorry. And I don’t know how to do that without saying everything else I’m not ready to say.
Henson shakes his head, but I snap, “Don’t fucking say a word.”
I don’t even think, just move. My legs carry me out of my office, after her. I’ve never run after a woman. Not once in my life. But here I am, following Mya through the office like a madman.
At the end of the hall, she darts left into the mail room. I glance behind me, then step inside after her, locking the door behind me.
She’s facing the printer, her back rigid. She doesn’t turn.
I clear my throat. “Mya—”
“Save it, Worth.”
“I didn’t mean what you heard.”
She whirls on me. “Oh, no? Because this is the second time I’ve overheard you say you don’t want me here. So what is it, Mr. Miller? Because you’re giving me whiplash.” Her tone drips with anger, but underneath it, I hear the hurt. “You literally asked me to marry you a few days ago.”
I move towards her slowly, raking a hand through my hair. “I—fuck. I don’t know, Mya.”
She exhales hard, shoulders drooping. “I’m just trying to do my job, Worth.” Her voice cracks, and it guts me. “I was actually even considering accepting your proposal. I’m such a fool.”
My chest grows tight. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
For a beat, neither of us speaks.
Her eyes search mine, wary. “Sorry doesn’t justify why you keep making me feel like I don’t belong here.”
I grit my teeth, fighting the instinct to tell her the truth—that she doesn’t just belong here, she’s one of the best employees we’ve had, and the company is already better for it. That she’s lodged under my fucking skin, that I want her near me all the time, and I don’t know what to do about it.
Instead, I step closer, close enough that I can smell the faint trace of her shampoo. My hand twitches at my side, aching to touch her, to prove the opposite of every cold word I’ve thrown at her.
“Mya…” I rasp, voice low. “You deserve to be here. More than most of them out there. That’s the problem.”
Her lips part, but I don’t give her the chance to speak.
“You’ve invaded my mind these last couple of months. I can’t fucking shake you. One second I want to push you away, the next I—” I break off, dragging a hand down my jaw. “I’ve been taking it out on you. It’s cruel and I know it. I’m aware of every goddamn second of it.”
Mya blinks at me, wide-eyed.
“I don’t know how to act around you,” I finish.
Her breath hitches, the smallest sound.
I close the distance and cup her face. When she doesn’t move out of my grip, and starts to lean forward, it’s enough to snap the last thread of my restraint, and I crash my mouth onto hers.
It’s reckless. The one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do. But the second Mya’s soft lips meet mine, every ounce of logic I’ve been clinging to goes up in flames.
She gasps against me, and for a heartbeat I think she’ll shove me away. But then she kisses me back.
Her mouth is sweet, her lips pliant, the kiss hungry.
My hand fists in her curly hair, tugging her closer until her body is flush against mine. The other finds her hip, sliding around to grip the curve of her ass. Mya fits against me like a glove, like she was meant to drive me fucking mad.
I groan into her mouth when her tongue brushes mine. My cock hardens instantly, straining against my slacks, pressing into her stomach. Her sharp inhale tells me she feels it.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, she grabs at my suit jacket, fingers digging into the lapels, tugging me closer.
I taste coffee and mint on her tongue, and it’s addictive. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the feel of her. Her curves, the little whimper catching in her throat, her body arching into mine like she’s just as desperate as I am.
My hands roam lower, memorizing every line, every curve. I want to bend her over the damn printer and sink into her until she’s screaming my name. The image flashes through my mind so vividly I almost groan aloud.
But then—too soon—Mya tears her mouth from mine, panting. Her lips are swollen, her eyes wide, chest heaving.
Reality slams back into me like a freight train.
She stumbles back a step, shaking her head. “No. No, no… we can’t—” Her voice cracks as she straightens her blouse. “We have to stop this.”
I stand frozen, my cock painfully hard, the taste of her still lingering on my tongue.
Mya avoids my gaze as she rushes for the door, yanking it open. Before she slips out, she throws one last line over her shoulder:
“You’re my boss, Worth. I can’t lose this job. This can’t happen again.”
The door slams shut, leaving me alone with the echo of her words and the ache in my body.
I drag both hands down my face, muttering, “Fuck.”
She’s right.
But I know I’ll never be able to keep my hands off her.