Chapter 4
Aghast. I am aghast.
“That makes no sense,” I blurt out.
His stare bores into me. “I know.”
“You missed me.”
“I did,” he says. “Very much.”
The way he says it is more than “I miss your salad delivery.”
Right?
“Missed me how?” I regret asking the nanosecond I say it.
“I could trust you. I don’t trust many people in my life.”
I relax, but also my stomach churns. Okay, it wasn’t a romantic “I miss you,” just “I could trust you to do your job. I could depend on you.”
It’s totally different. And totally devastating for some reason.
“I was a dick to you,” Smith says. “I was under an incredible amount of pressure. My personal life was disintegrating, and I took you for granted. I’m so sorry for yelling at you.”
“Apology accepted,” I say, trying to keep the tears at bay. I swallow them down. I’m not sure why I’m getting so emotional that I got the apology I was craving and the vindication that feels anything but satisfying.
Feelings swirl within me, confusing me, and I stand up to avoid being close to him. This is why I don’t put myself in situations where I get close to men. There’s too much risk for me since every relationship I’ve attempted has failed at a hundred percent.
My heart cannot take another pummel so it’s best to get out of this elevator as soon as possible.
“I’m going to ask for an update.” I hit the bell button again.
The intercom crackles on. “Uh, hello?”
“Yes, I wanted to get an update on the technician?”
“Still an hour and a half. Maybe two.”
I check my watch. “We’ve already been in here for an hour.”
“I’m sorry.”
Another apology I’m not excited about.
The intercom quiets, and the silence in this elevator is so loud.
My pacing begins again, my arms tightly wrapped around myself.
“Are you going to sit down again or…” he asks.
“I’ll stand, thank you,” I say. I move from one side to the other, three steps and three steps the other way.
I have to ask it. If he thought I was such a good employee, that he could trust me, why did he treat me like I was invisible?
“I have one question.” I hold up a finger for emphasis. “Why did you ignore me the entire time I worked there? If I was such a valuable asset and you trusted me, why didn’t you tell me that?”
Smith looks at the ground, reaching for his cufflink again. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”
I sit down, draping my skirt over my knees as I stretch my legs out. “What’s complicated?”
He says nothing and then I ask differently. “What happened?”
I expect him to retreat, to deflect. Instead, he speaks instantly.
“I had a lot of things going on in my personal life. My ex-wife and I didn’t fit quite right, and honestly, we never did. But the final nail on the coffin was that she had an affair with someone else,” he says, his lips pursing with the confession. “I thought she would be the mother of my children, and now she’s nothing. We’re not even friends.”
That is a lot more information than I was expecting. His anguished face makes him look vulnerable, like those sad dogs I feel sorry for and then cry at in the animal shelter commercials.
I pat his folded hands. The touch sizzles, but I rest my hand there anyway, since I apparently haven’t learned anything. A mature man flashes his baby blues at me, and I’m Jell-O.
“You could’ve talked to me,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest. “And your divorce still doesn’t explain why after five years of working together, you never talked to me. Why you never told me how much you trusted me or depended on me. It would’ve made my working experience a lot better, and I wouldn’t have had to quit and you wouldn’t have to miss such a stellar employee.”
“I told you, it was more than that,” Smith says, turning back toward me. His pupils are fire, staring me down. His lips press into each other and I don’t know what to do. What this is.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say.
“I’m just going to say it,” he says. He pauses and lets out a huff of quaking breath. “I was ridiculously, irrationally, insanely attracted to you.”
My mouth drops for the seventh time tonight.
I’ve been called cute. I’ve been called pretty. But there’s no way a man who’s had a woman like Daniela could be attracted to me. Her hair is black silk, a freaking hair commercial success story. Her skin barely has a blemish while I have a volcano brewing on my chin under a layer of makeup.
Daniela always seemed like a poised, classy woman while I’m the opposite. I take up space. A man or two has called me “mouthy.”
Me being me, I need answers.
“Was?” I ask.
“Still am,” Smith says. He flips my hand over and drags his fingertips along my turned-up palm.
I bite my lip. It feels so amazing to be touched by someone other than myself. My parents hug me and my friends hug me, but I forget how the touch of a man is different, more sensual.
Especially a man who is ridiculously, irrationally, insanely attracted to me.
“Why?”
“You’re intelligent, kind. I saw you around the office, caring about everyone. You have so much fun and are so…joyful. I knew I needed to keep my distance. I shoved my attraction down so far and pretended like you didn’t exist. If I did that, maybe I could save my marriage. I knew if I got close to you, I would be a bigger fucking asshole than I already was.”
He drags his fingers along my forearm and my eyelashes flutter closed.
“Do you think I’m an asshole?” Smith asks.
“No, I don’t think you’re an asshole,” I whisper, turning my head. My breath is heavy and loud. A tiny moan escapes my lips.
“Cassie,” he says. I can feel his breath mingle with mine. “I…”
I grab his shirt and pull him to me. His lips slam into mine. I taste the sweetness of the granola bar I gave him and smell the spice of his cologne. His lips are soft, just like I knew they would be. His fingers touch the base of my skull, lace through my hair.
Everything is firing.
My face grows hot with this kiss, his tongue dipping in to find mine. It’s passion, a simmer that explodes. My stomach churns with the rabid butterflies, my skin singing with his touch.
I’m making out with my former boss, and damn, it feels good.
He pulls me onto his lap so I’m facing him. My legs wrap around him as he runs his fingers down my spine, hot streaks of pleasure where his touch burns me. I buck against his hard cock straining against his pants, my sex molding to his as we devour each other.
The world moves around us in this tiny elevator, our connection drowning out the noise of the machine.
Everything falls away, and all that matters is Smith’s hands on me, his lips on my neck, his hand lifting my hair.
I don’t notice the elevator doors opening behind me. With one strap of my dress off my shoulder, straddling my ex-boss.
“Called it,” Vincent, one of the grooms, says from behind me.
I turn slowly, like a heroine in a horror movie. I turn to see Vincent, my best friend and man of the hour, standing in the middle of a sea of his wedding guests, all who witnessed me sucking the face of the man I hated an hour and a half ago.