Chapter 19 Henry
Nineteen
Henry
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I stare at Jas, dropping my jacket over my desk. In nearly twenty-five years of friendship, I can count on one hand the number of times she’s shown up at my office unannounced.
“I wanted to see the infamous Matilda who’s apparently rattled your cage.” She grins, devilish as ever.
“Jesus Christ.” I glance toward the glass wall to make sure Matilda can’t hear us.
That red dress and those heels nearly killed me when I walked in this morning.
I should probably thank Jas, really — her sudden appearance might’ve been the only thing that stopped me from pushing Matilda up against her desk and showing her exactly how much I liked that dress on her.
It’s… concerning, the effect this woman has on me.
I swear she even bit her bottom lip when she saw me — and that alone sent blood straight to my dick.
“I can’t fault your taste,” Jas says, lowering her voice. “She’s beautiful.”
“Have you really come all this way just to compliment my assistant?”
“It’s not that far,” she retorts, jabbing me in the arm before taking the chair opposite my desk.
“Jas, I’ve had this office for five years. Not once have you set foot in it.”
She glances around, visibly shuddering. “You know me — offices and suits give me the ick.”
I laugh despite myself. “Seriously, though. Why are you here?”
The humour fades from her face. Her shoulders tighten.
“Jasmine Garcia Hernandez,” I warn, leaning forward.
“Okay, okay — don’t dad me.” She sighs, reaching for the mug of coffee Matilda made me. “Do you remember that guy I told you about? The one who followed me home? Bit clingy?”
“Yes,” I draw the word out, tension already crawling up my neck.
“I think he’s back. I saw a black car outside my flat last week. Same car came back three nights in a row. Might be nothing… but I thought I should tell you.”
“What the fuck, Jas? Why are you only telling me this now?”
I stand, then immediately sit back down when I see her eyes glisten. The last thing I can stomach is making her cry — especially not Jas. I take her hands, pulling them under my chin.
“Hey. I’m sorry. We’ll take this seriously. Leave it with me. I’ll make some calls, okay? But for now, you’re staying at mine until we sort this out.”
“No,” she shakes her head, forcing a small smile. “I’ll stay with my brother. His place is closer to work anyway.”
“Are you sure?” I trust her brother Lukas, otherwise I’d insist she stay with me. He’ll look after her.
“Positive. But thank you. If you could check around, I’d appreciate it.” She leans in, kisses my cheek, and wipes away a stray tear. “I’d better get out of your hair. You’ve got a proper job and shit to do.”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I guess.”
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly. “And Jas—”
She pauses at the door.
“Call me anytime. Day or night.”
She smiles and leaves. Through the glass, I watch her exchange a brief, polite smile with Matilda.
Then Matilda’s cheeks flush, and she drops her gaze, pretending to be engrossed in her computer.
Fuck.
Maybe she thinks Jas and I are… something. And honestly, the sight of her looking jealous hits me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I want to go out there, explain, fix whatever that expression on her face means — but my phone rings, and I’m dragged into another fire to put out.
Two hours later, I finally get a break.
Matilda’s desk is empty.
I head toward the break room and stop dead in my tracks.
Through the doorway, I see a tall, blonde guy in a cheap suit laughing — laughing — with a woman in a red dress.
My woman in a red dress.
Matilda’s smiling, holding her coffee, head tipped back as she laughs at something he’s said. And then — Jesus Christ — she touches his arm.
I don’t even think. I shove the door open harder than necessary, and every head in the room swivels toward me.
Matilda’s eyes meet mine, and instead of surprise, she looks… smug. Self-satisfied.
Payback.
“Matilda. A word, please.”
My tone is sharp, too sharp, and I know it. I also know I have no right to be this pissed off — but here we are. One step away from firing the prick for daring to breathe near her.
She holds my gaze, cool as anything. Then, deliberately, she empties her cup, rinses it, sets it carefully on the draining board. The defiance in that simple act makes my pulse spike.
Christ, I didn’t know stubbornness could be this much of a turn-on.
I walk out first, waiting in the corridor. No point having half the office witness the state she’s got me in.
The door opens, and her brown eyes lock onto mine. Something molten slides low in my gut.
“What can I help you with?” she asks, voice perfectly calm, but her eyes are burning. She’s jealous. And I’m not too good a man to admit — I fucking love it.
“I need you to look over something for me,” I say, cupping her elbow and steering her down the corridor.
I open the nearest door and pull her inside.
“Erm, Henry,” she says, blinking. “This is the supply cupboard.”
I turn, closing the door behind us. Logic? Gone. Sanity? Gone. All that’s left is the sound of her breathing and the way her body stiffens when I step closer.
Her back hits the shelving, and her mouth opens like she’s about to speak — but nothing comes out. So instead she bites down on her bottom lip, drawing it in slightly.
“Stop doing that,” I murmur, leaning down until my lips graze her cheek.
“Stop what?” she breathes, her voice barely audible.
“Biting your bottom lip,” I whisper, tracing my mouth toward her ear. “Because if you keep doing it, I’m going to take it between my teeth, and I won’t care who sees it.”
Her breath catches, sharp and shaky.
“Then you’ll have to stop too,” she whispers, and when her lips brush my neck, I freeze.
“Stop what?”
“Kissing other women in front of me.”
Jas.
Of course.
A smile threatens, and she instantly narrows her eyes.
“Don’t smile at me.” She turns to leave, but I catch her hips, holding her in place — firm, not forceful.
“Jas is my oldest friend. Nothing romantic. Never has been. Never will be.”
“Oh.”
That’s all she says before I crash my lips onto hers.
For a split second, she’s still — and I think I’ve ruined everything — but then she moves against me, matching the kiss with equal hunger.
It’s hot, messy, desperate. Years of restraint burning away in seconds.
My hands find her hips, her waist, her back. It’s like touching someone for the first time, and it’s chaos. Beautiful, terrifying chaos.
Then — the door opens.
Matilda shoves off me, grabbing a handful of folders and a stack of post-it notes as a young employee walks in, stammering an apology before reaching for a pack of pencils.
“These are the residential files,” Matilda says, breathless, thrusting them at me. “And these are for commercial.”
I can’t help the low laugh that escapes me, even as she straightens her hair and dress. The the young girl leaves.
“Matilda—”
“Henry, we can’t do this here,” she interrupts, refusing to meet my eye.
“Here?” I repeat, glancing around the cramped cupboard. “Right. Yeah. Of course.”
She gestures frantically between us. “I’m your assistant. You’re my boss. We’re in a supply cupboard. If Kelly had moved even remotely faster than her usual snail’s pace, she’d have caught us like—” she waves her hands— “this.”
“You’re right,” I sigh. “You’re my assistant, I’m your boss, and this—” I mirror her wild hand gestures, “—is completely inappropriate.”
I run a hand through my hair, trying to find the part of me that still believes what I’m saying.
“Come on,” I mutter. “We’d better get out of here.”
Even as I say it, I know I don’t mean it. Because walking away from Matilda Green is quickly becoming the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.