Chapter 7
POV: Kiera?
To say I jumped when I got the call about the job would be a direct understatement.
I nearly fell out of bed in surprise and excitement.
Because I needed this job.
This would probably be the one job that I would get since my ex was blocking me from any other company.
I’m not sure why Cain Naughton wanted to go against him and make an enemy, but it seemed that frankly he didn’t care.
The interview was extremely…strange and I thought my chances of getting the job were slim to none after it ended. And then there was the odd feeling of him watching me eat dinner, though I had chalked it up to me imagining things after all, still, I hadn’t thought I’d be offered a job at the end of it.
Yet here I was, sitting at a desk right outside of his office, managing his schedules, answering his phone calls, and placing a lunch order for the two of us.
I stared down at the paper: 2 ribeye steaks, mashed potatoes.
He was really going to eat 2 ribeye steaks for lunch?
I glanced down at the note directly below it.
I’d recommend the ribeye steak for yourself as well.
I scoffed.
Did he just try to order lunch for me?
I shook my head then checked out the online menu.
Roast chicken with balsamic carrots, it is. He can have his two ribeyes and mashed potatoes.
I tried to figure things out the best I could for the next few hours. I answered the phones with my best overly confident preppy voice, made sure to mention that he was in a meeting but would return their calls soon, then read through all his e-mails and scrambled notes down to mention in our lunch meeting, then placed our lunch order for delivery at exactly 11:45 pm.
I knocked on his door, waiting for him to grumble, “Come in.” Then entered carrying two bottles of water and our meals, while balancing a notepad in between the crook of my arm.
He waved me towards the couch assembly over by the windows, as he argued with someone on the other line of the phone.
The phone call was quick, and I only heard bits and pieces of it, “pack”, “territory”, “a week”. Then he quickly hung up, tucked the phone in his suit pants and strutted over.
He took a seat across from me, leaning against the back of the chair, making his shoulders appear gigantic. His eyes never left mine.
For a moment, we sat in the uncomfortable silence, until his phone buzzed, pulling his gaze away from mine.
“Hey Xav,” he greeted. “Yeah I know. I’ll be back in a week. I have some things to take care of here before I return.” He looked down at the table as he listened to the person on the other line. Then, “I know, but I can’t swing anything shorter. It’s important.” He glanced up at me then, locking eyes then ended the call.
He hunched forward, opening the box and grabbing a fork and knife in hand. “Sorry about that. Business.”
I nodded, staring at my unopened box for a moment before opening it and beginning to eat.
“I see you didn’t get the ribeye after all.”
I looked up with a mouthful of chicken. “I’m not a huge fan of red meat.”
He chuckled, as if something I said was funny.
Don’t do it, Kiera.
But of course I did it anyway. I said what I wanted to say. “Do you always order for your assistants?”
He laughed, a loud low belly ache type laugh. “I merely offered a recommendation.”
“I’m glad you find that amusing,” I mumbled.
“Extremley,” he smirked.
I wanted to roll my eyes but I refrained from doing so. Instead, I had another mouthful of chicken and carrots and watched him as I did. And in between bites, he did the same. We were at a stand off—both of us eyeing each other like adversaries as we ate lunch in total silence.
You could say it was awkward to the regular person, but to me—-it was stimulating.
Eventually, he got up, resting a hand on the side of his belt line as his other hand clutched the empty takeout container and walked towards the garbage can.
I watched him as he did—admiring the silhouette of his strong back, the way his forearm muscles rippled, and the way he exuded confidence as he even walked.
This is your boss, Kiera. You need to stop. You literally just got this job a few hours ago.
I forced my gaze downwards and studied my scribblings on the notepad instead.
When he took his seat again, he leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his knees and forcing my gaze back to his. “Anything from my e-mails?”
“Yes, quite a lot,” I began, trying to decipher my list. I rambled off the findings from the e-mails and he gave me replies which I jotted down as equally quick.
“Good,” he remarked as if it was revolutionary.
I reached forward to clear off the takeaway box and at the same time he reached to grab his phone.
Our hands touched and a surge of electricity surged through my body.
I gasped, tugging my hand away and against my chest.
His jaw ticked as his hand formed into a ball, but he got up without saying anything and walked towards the window, tucking his hands in his pockets.
I hadn’t felt something like that before—just from a touch, especially while sober. That was intense…as intense as he was, and that’s saying something.
“Take the rest of the day off,” he said when I turned to leave.
I stopped. “Sir?”
“Go home, Kiera.”
My name…on his lips.
It sounded like a symphony.
He was intense, arrogant and magnetic. But somehow despite his severe, intimidating and overwhelming qualities, his presence still made me think that this felt…right.
But I was just as confused as our first meeting, if not more.
So I left and I didn’t stop to look back.