Chapter 6 #2
“Two percent milk. No sugar. Dusting of cinnamon.”
I nod and start to walk over to the espresso machine.
“I prefer verbal answers, Eilish.”
I grit my teeth, my jaw tensing. “Okay.”
“Not ‘okay’. Yes.”
“Excuse me?” I mutter, turning to glare at him over my shoulder.
Gavan smiles smugly at me. “When I ask you for something, you will say yes , not okay . Let’s try that again. I’ll have my cappuccino now.”
My lips purse. “Yes.”
“Yes what.”
You’re fucking kidding me .
“I’m not joking,” he growls quietly, reading my mind. “Say it correctly. I’ll have my cappuccino now.”
My eyes turn to green slits. “Yes, Sir .”
“Good girl.”
My cheeks flame as I turn, acutely aware of the way the heels make my hips sway—in my fucking underwear —as I walk to the machine.
Luckily, I’m not a total cliche mafia princess who’s never worked a day in her life.
I had a job at a café in undergrad when I was at NYU, and mercifully it all comes back to me in an instant.
I grind the espresso beans and tamp them down in the little metal filter before securing it into the elegant, Italian machine.
While the shot dribbles out, I steam the milk—two percent, as requested—until it’s topped with a nice foamy froth before adding it to the espresso when it’s done.
No sugar, and I end with a dusting of cinnamon.
I learned how to make a heart in the foam at the café, but I do not do that this time .
When I turn back to him, my face heats when I realize he’s been staring at me, basically naked, the whole time. Again, he raises his hand to crook two fingers at me. And again, it has a physical effect on me I truly wish it didn’t, but it does.
My jaw is tight as I march back over to the couch and hand Gavan the cappuccino without a word.
“And my tablet. On my desk. If you would be so kind.”
I glare at him. Gavan just smiles a tight smile right back at me. I turn again, all too aware of his eyes still on my ass as I walk over to his desk and grab the tablet. When I hand it to him, he just looks at me cooly with those flinty eyes and sips his coffee.
The second tick by. I squirm under his gaze as it traces down my body, zeroing in on my sex as my legs shift.
Then they slowly drag to my pink scars—the ones from the explosion—on my thigh and my shoulder.
I squirm again, the muscles under my skin twisting as if to hide these imperfections from him.
But there’s no escaping that steely gaze. His eyes pierce into my scars, narrowing for a moment as if angry before dragging back up to my face.
“Well, what am I doing now?”
He lifts a brow, saying nothing but everything, and smiles that thin smile. “Ask the right way.”
“You’re joking.”
Gavan’s lips curl. “I’m not.”
“What am I doing now, Sir ,” I mutter.
“That’ll be all for today.”
I blink.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t believe I mis-spoke, and we’ve established that you’re fluent in English.”
Seriously? I came all the way here at eight in the morning to make him a fucking coffee in my goddamn underwear?
“That’s it?”
“You’re welcome to sit on the edge of my desk with your legs spread so that I can fuck you while I go through my morning notes if you’d prefer.”
Holy. Fucking. GOD .
My face explodes with heat, and my eyes go wide.
Gavan just smiles.
“If not, then that will be all , Eilish.”
He picks up his tablet, thumbing it on and sipping his coffee, pointedly ignoring me.
Okay…?
Turning, I march over to the desk, my face throbbing as I yank my dress back on. Gavan still says nothing as I walk to the door, furiously avoiding looking at the now-empty glass case that once contained a hundred-and-twenty-four-million-dollar Fabergé egg.
“To clear up any confusion, Eilish…”
I pause, still facing the door, when he speaks.
“When I say that will be all, I mean that will be all for today . We aren’t done by a fucking mile, in case you were feeling hopeful that making me an average at best cappuccino was anywhere close to paying back what you destroyed.”
My brows knit as I turn to glance at him. “I didn’t think—”
“Monday. Same time.”
“I have class.”
“I really don’t give a fuck. Monday, eight o’clock.”
Tyrant .
I turn to the door again.
“And Eilish?”
I pause again, my hand on the knob.
“Wear some nicer fucking panties next time.”
My lips curl into a snarl. “ Asshole .”
I’ve barely started to twist the doorknob when I hear and feel the thunder of his approach.
I whirl, gasping, and my face goes chalk-white when he surges right into me.
I choke and sputter as he grabs me hard by the throat and the hip, slamming me against the door.
His huge, powerful frame pins me to it, sending alarm bells and forbidden heat exploding through my core.
“I did mention what would happen if you spoke to me like that again.”
My eyes bulge. “I—”
One second, I’ve gone twenty-one years without being kissed by a man like Gavan. The next second, it’s a sensation I could never forget in a million lifetimes as his lips slam into mine.
It’s a kiss like the invasion of Normandy was a trip to the beach. A kiss like the Sistine Chapel has paint on the ceiling. It’s not even really a kiss.
It’s a declaration of war.
It’s subjugation.
Annihilation.
And yet, at the same time, the single hottest moment of my life.
He kisses me viciously, and when his teeth sink into my bottom lip so hard that a coppery taste spills across both of our tongues, I cry out into his mouth. It’s only then that he draws back, leaving me stunned, swimming, and breathless, the taste of blood on my lips.
“Consider that a warning shot,” he growls quietly. “Monday. Same time.”
Everything’s a blur as I turn, dazed and stunned, and open the door. When it shuts behind me, I have to actually lean against it for a moment, lest I have a heart attack while I’m trying to walk down the stairs.
When I’ve collected myself, I make a beeline down the stairs, across the main area, and past the receptionist desk toward the elevators.
“Nice meeting you, Eilish.”
I jolt, whirling to see Rachel smiling at me from behind her desk.
“Uh, yeah, same,” I stammer, frowning. “You too. See you Monday.”
She nods, but then her brow furrows. “Oh, and hon?” She frowns, touching the corner of her own mouth delicately with a knowing smile. “Yeah… The liquid gloss always drips for me, too.”
It takes a moment before it clicks.
Blood.
There’s a drop of blood at the corner of my mouth.
I reach up and hastily thumb it away.
“See you Monday!”
I’m not going to survive this.
How the fuck am I going to survive this?
And why the hell am I so fucking wet right now…