24. Byron
24
BYRON
S he gazed up at me with so much hope, those big, chocolate brown eyes glistening, wide with indignation. Her chest rising and falling with sharp, angry breaths.
“What do you suggest I do?” she asked. “If I have to break laws, I will.”
At that very moment, something happened inside me.
And no, it had nothing to do with dragging the minx to bed, but everything to do with this unexpected need to protect her from all the evil in the world. The thought of anyone causing her a scintilla of harm sent wrath gushing through my veins.
“Nothing,” I said. “You don’t do anything.”
Naturally, she was outraged by my response, tossing me a willful glare. “Oh screw that!” she said. “I’m going to skin that little fucker alive, then set him on fire, and drag his burning corpse to the tracks and let a train finish him off.”
Well then. Never to cross Miss Belfiore.
Though my body seemed to have a different take. A jolt of pleasure shot through me, settling deep inside at the resolve in her tone.
It took a few moments to regain my composure, but I managed and even produced a soothing smile. “Meg, that’s exactly the reaction he wants. It’s too personal to you, I’m an outsider. Leave it to me, I’ll deal with it.”
She gave me a pointed look. “I appreciate it, but this isn’t your fight to fight, you know. I only told you because you insisted, but the last thing I want is for you to waste your time getting involved.”
I met her blazing gaze with a calming one of my own. “Whether you like it or not, I am involved now. I take to heart anyone messing with my colleague’s peace of mind. Thus, it has become my fight too.”
There had to be a sudden chill in the air because the tips of her nipples became diamond-hard points battling in vain to stay veiled behind the satin blouse.
Or perhaps it wasn’t a chill but her reaction to me taking charge.
Now, imagine yourself in my shoes for a moment and the wild, sultry journey my mind dragged me on. It wasn’t as pleasant as you’d think because it became quite the challenge not to lose my original train of thought.
I barely managed to redirect my focus to how I would bring hell to Elio Ricks, leaving him a miserable, defeated wreck.
“Well, what are you going to do?” she asked, and I noticed a subtle catch in her breath. As if she was fighting a losing battle with some torrid thoughts of her own.
“Let me worry about that,” I reassured her. “I’ll figure it out.”
“If you’re going to send goons to beat him up, please let me watch,” she added, half-joking, but I didn’t doubt for a second she’d be all-in on watching the carnage go down while cheering from the sidelines.
“No, a beating won’t do. Let’s get him where it’s going to hurt him the most, his business,” I replied. “Like I said, let me take care of it, okay?”
Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as her gaze melted into mine. “Okay,” she breathed. “If you insist.”
The air between us became a living, beating pulse for whatever the fuck was happening, and I needed to leave before I did something stupid, like pulling her into my arms to offer the comfort she most probably didn’t want or need.
I was back at the door, my hand on the doorknob, ready to escape to the secret passage, yet I didn’t move. “Please text me this guy’s name and the name of his cockroach motel.”
It wasn’t meant to be funny, but she laughed as if she’d just heard the world’s greatest joke. The sound was so infectious, and it felt like an engraved invitation to laugh along.
She grabbed her phone and began typing, her fingers moving in a blur. “Done,” she gasped between giggles. “And whatever you do, let him know it comes from me.”
I caught myself grinning like a fool. “Of course. He’s going to regret ever crossing your path or inspiring your wrath. Like I hope I never do.”
She hooked the cooler bag from where it was sitting on her desk and strode toward me until we were but a foot apart.
“I have to put lunch in the fridge,” she rasped, and I noticed the delicate sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose and the pulse in the hollow of her throat as it quivered with her every breath.
Her scent drifted over me, and she tilted her head, flashing a smile that could spark a revolution. “And you’re standing in the way,” she added.
I quickly nodded as though opening the door for her had been part of the plan all along.
She brushed past me into the secret passage and then into the kitchen, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching her, trying to figure out what the hell was happening to me.
She put the cooler bag on the table and stood in front of the espresso machine, clasping a hand to her heart. “Holy shit, you got a La Marzocco?”
A warm glow spread through me. “It was the least I could do after killing the last one.”
The espresso machine was inspected at length, and a few whimpers escaped her throat as she discovered all the wonders of the La Marzocco.
Whimpers that quietly echoed in my mind for reasons that had nothing to do with the espresso machine.
“Look here, we can foam the milk and make dry cappuccinos,” she said. “I think I’m in love.”
‘Then we should have dry cappuccinos with our tiramisu. Isn’t that what you said we were having for dessert?”
“Yes! Double portions, too.”
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
She gazed fondly at the La Marzocco, and I found myself envying the damn espresso machine.
“We should probably find a way to nail this to the counter because if you broke this puppy, it would hurt me in ways you don’t want to know,” she said.
I laughed. “The sins of your coworker…forever etched in your mind.”
She swung around, perhaps misjudging how close behind her I was.
Even in her high heels, I still had a few inches on her, and it wasn’t any more obvious than when her gaze flickered to my lips before snapping up to my eyes.
She smiled, as inscrutable as the Mona Lisa, and every nerve ending in my body jolted to life.
“You know the word ‘sin’ comes from old Egyptian,” she said for no reason whatsoever. “It means restriction . Like it isn’t something totally bad, just something you need to cut back on and not overindulge. Isabel told me that.”
“Oh,” I rasped. “But overindulging is my second name.”
“Yeah, I’m with you there. Screw cutting back. Life is short. It’s meant to be enjoyed,” she added. I once saw this meme on Instagram… You’re a ghost driving a meat-coated skeleton made from stardust, riding a rock, hurtling through space. Fear nothing.”
I might have drooled a drop, I might have applied the “fear nothing” part by staring at Meg with unabandoned admiration. Once again, we were ensconced in that little bubble where everything else seemed to fade away.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
I took one step back, the gentleman I was, not wanting to crowd the lady’s space.
Not that I thought for a second she’d fight me tooth and nail were I to rake her close and take possession of her mouth. But that was just wishful thinking and could very well be my imagination running amok.
“Let me know when you're ready for your lasagna, and I'll have someone heat it for you,” she said, her fingers tracing the zipper of the cooler bag, the flutter in her throat betraying her carefree tone.
“Whenever you’re having yours warmed up, thank you,” I told her, a subtle invitation to having lunch together. “I’ll be out for a couple of hours, but I should be back by noon if you want to plan for lunch then.”
She tossed me a smoky glance. “Sounds good,” she said, then started unpacking containers from the cooler bag and setting them in the fridge.
Try as I might, my gaze drifted helplessly to the curve of her supple hips in those jeans.
It was almost impossible not to imagine my fingers tracing the delicate line where her ass met the back of her legs. That little fold where my fingers would slide perfectly into a lock.
She glanced back at me over her shoulder, and it took some serious effort to play it off as a cough and not me undressing her with my eyes.
Maybe an ice-cold shower wasn’t the worst idea before lunch.
She gave me a dazzling smile. “I’m making myself an espresso. Would you like a cup?”
I had to clear my throat before answering. “I’d better not. Roman and I had a long meeting with some German execs this morning, and we had our share of espressos, thank you. If I have one more, I’ll be doing business from the ceiling for the rest of my day.”
I watched her make the espresso, every movement efficient and precise as though she had done it a thousand times before. “Are those the German execs from Albrecht Telekom?” she asked casually.
“Yes, they are,” I replied, taken aback by the sudden dive into business talk.
Her demeanor shifted. The easygoing, fun woman I knew vanished, replaced by someone who was laser-focused and all business.
Say hello to Miss Belfiore, lawyer extraordinaire.
“Then we need to talk about your contracts with them,” she said coolly. “They are outdated, and something tells me Albrecht Telekom’s legal department knows and has decided to keep a lid on it because it works in their favor. I honestly don’t get how a trust like yours could be falling short on contracts with a company like Albrecht Telekom. Someone’s clearly been dropping the ball.”
Where just hours ago, I had all the answers in a face-off with eight Albrecht Telekom executives, I was blindsided by this information and at a complete loss for answers.
“You got me there,” I replied. “I think you should bring it up with Roman, he would know more about that than I do.”
“As soon to be CEO, you’d better brush up then,” she continued. “And this bullshit doesn’t stop with Albrecht Telekom. To be honest, I can find a paralegal for thirty dollars an hour who can draw up better contracts than the fools in your legal department who probably get paid a king’s ransom for every clause they copy and paste from old contracts into the new ones. Then have the balls to add some superficial tweaks to give an authentic flavor to their sloppy work.”
By now, my jaw was practically on the floor. “To be a fly on the wall when you tell Roman all this,” I said. “Even if he knew the legal department was slacking off, he surely wasn’t prepared for this level of slack.”
She finished making her espresso and turned around, facing me again. “I sent him a text,” she said, lifting the small cup to her lips. “We’ll see what he has to say.”
She took a sip, then nearly spit it out. “Damn, this is hot!”
“Well, it is scalding hot espresso. Are you okay?”
“Not going to feel my tongue for a while, but hey, what use is feeling my tongue here anyway.
Was this woman even aware of the things coming out of her mouth?
“Let me get back to work,” I murmured quickly before I was tempted to say something totally inappropriate. “I have a few things to do before lunch, and then there’s the meeting with the board this afternoon. Roman is adamant about introducing me to the world looking like I got in a fight with a bear and lost.”
Her giggle bounced off the walls. “You look fine…I mean, if you look like this beat up, I don’t want to know what you look like without the bruises--”
The candid admission sat there like a defenseless dandelion waiting for a strong breeze to blow it apart. When she realized her slip-up, the most adorable blush crept into her cheeks.
“Not that I care what you look like…uhm…you know what, never mind…so, let me know if there’s anything I can do for you…I mean workwise, like checking out a contract…okay, I’ve gotta bounce.”
Holding a full cup of hot espresso, her hasty retreat was slower than she intended, and I almost chuckled as I followed her into the secret passage toward my own office.
Meg being so flustered was fun to watch. Midway, I called out after her. “ It's a beautiful day, don't let it get away.”
A few seconds dripped by before she spun around with a delicious little grin. “Did you just quote lyrics from U2’s Beautiful Day?”
And there it was, Meg ticking off another invisible box. I held on to my composure by the barest of threads.
What I really wanted to do was drag her into my arms and kiss her. Kiss her until she surrendered to this primal urge of unmet need I suddenly felt. A need I had for her and her alone.
But please note how I did none of that. Instead, I opened the door to my office. “See you at lunch, Megan. Bye, for now.”
All the while, I was thinking of all the things I could do to help her get the feeling back in her tongue.