12. Rian
Twelve
Rian
Catriona enters my office and I tense.
Anika makes a dismissive sound on the other side of the conference table, annoyed by the interruption.
Anika is professional, but a bit of a hard-nosed bitch in a beautiful package.
Marcus furrows his brows. Not that he’s annoyed, but he follows Anika’s example in everything he does, like a drooling lapdog.
I might be the most eligible bachelor in the office, but Anika is the female counterpart.
And the complete opposite of Catriona. Dark against fair, exotic against ice cold. Stylish and put together against… Yeah, let’s not go there again.
Let’s definitely not go where those unfitting suit trousers were pooled on the floor. My jaw is clenched tight in trepidation as I scan Catriona’s face. Will there be anger, disgust, or even worse, lovesick puppy eyes?
Her gaze flicks and her throat moves as she swallows.
“The O’Toole analysis, sir.” There’s a weakness to her tone that I instantly hate.
I force my voice to be cold, but there’s an undertone of rawness I can’t hide. “Leave it on my desk.”
She nods. Then her eyes drop to my hands gripping the armrests. My knuckles are white. I force them to relax and bring them up to rest on the table. Catriona’s eyebrows rise. The vulnerability I had seen on her face hardens and something short of a sneer curls her lips.
I grit my teeth. Ice Queen Taylor is back, and she basks in knowing how tense I am about this whole thing.
If she only knew the power she wields. Maybe she thinks my dad will brush this under the carpet if it comes out, but truth is, if she reported me, my head would roll quicker than the incoming tide on Sandymount beach.
But she’ll not report me. She’s not a snitch or a gold digger looking for a payout. Her integrity is cemented to the core of her being. She’s disgusting that way.
Catriona’s back is pencil straight and her head held high as she places the file on my desk and leaves without another word or even a glance in my direction.
Catriona Taylor is indeed a force to be reckoned with.
My palm itches to put her over my lap and not hold back this time.
Make her cry out with every hard slap as her cheeks turns bright pink, and tears well in her blue eyes.
Will her pussy be wet when I slip my fingers through her lips?
I shift in my seat. I bet she will be, the little slut.