Chapter 8 #3
Noticing that their hands were still attached, Joy snatched hers from his grip.
Ace put his hand in his pocket. “Why don’t I show you to your office,” he suggested.
Joy nodded and after thanking April, they headed off in the direction of Joy’s office. Joy was acutely aware of Ace’s assessing gaze on her the whole time.
Ace swung open the door and turned on the fluorescent light, illuminating the small office.
It was about half the size of Joy’s bathroom back home but overlooked the city which was bathed in morning sunlight.
In the center of the room was a long white desk with a rolling chair behind it and two monitors on top.
A file cabinet the same height as the desk rested beside it and a small bookshelf was in the corner.
She only got to assess her new space for a moment before she heard the soft click of the door closing. She turned to find Ace leaning against the now closed door with his muscled arms crossed over his broad chest and a smirk on his lips.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Joy hissed, her body warming under his heated gaze.
“Like what?” he asked, wetting his full lips.
Joy’s gaze fell to the movement, her own lips tingling with the memory of how his lips had felt and his tongue tasted.
“You know what.”
He pushed off the door and took a step forward.
“Like I know what your lips taste like? Like I know what your body feels like?” He stepped closer with each iteration, his presence and cologne growing more potent with each step.
“L-let’s agree not to bring that night up,” Joy breathed.
“Which part? “ he asked. He stood over her then, the tips of their shoes almost touching. “When you were dangling off the roof or when I had my tongue down your throat?”
Joy nearly moaned at the memory he conjured.
“All of it,” she hissed. “Just forget it all.”
“Hm,” he hummed, reaching out to caress her cheek. “I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t like unfinished business.” He trailed his thumb from her cheek to her lips. “These lips…” he mumbled absentmindedly.
Joy’s breath hitched. She took a step back, then another hoping to break whatever spell he was casting on her.
He smirked, seeing right her reaction to him clear as day. Frazzling her, just as he’d done the night they met.
She heard his deep chuckle as she turned her back to him but he didn’t say anything else.
Joy set her tote bag on top of the file cabinet and took a seat behind the desk.
Ace followed, leaning over the desk until their faces were inches apart. He didn’t touch her but the lingering eye contact and simmering energy between them as they danced around their initial meeting made Joy warm all over.
“You’re my boss now,” Joy reminded him, a last ditch effort to get him to stop looking at her like he wanted to devour her.
“Mhm,” he hummed distractedly, his eyes flicking from hers to her lips. “And?”
“And that means whatever happened before is irrelevant now because it won’t happen again.”
“No?” He quirked a brow, his stare challenging.
“No,” Joy said more firmly than she felt. She held his eye contact but fiddled the charm on her bracelet in her lap.
His lips curled at the edges and after a few more agonizing moments, he tore his gaze away.
“Shame,” he said, then flipping the laptop open.
After a short tutorial on accessing certain systems and databases and a deliberation on company culture and expectations, Ace stood straight.
Their gazes caught and held and he looked like he wanted to say more when his phone beeped.
He pulled it out and peered at the notification with a quiet curse then put it back in his pocket.
“I’ve gotta go take care of something. You good?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Joy replied.
He nodded. “Welcome to the team Ms. Thibodeaux,” he said. “I look forward to seeing more of you. Much more.” Then with one final searing glance, excused himself.
Once alone, Joy spun her chair around to face the floor to ceiling window that overlooked the city.
She waited for the physical effects of Ace’s presence to subside, shaking the interaction off.
The universe must be fucking with me, Joy thought.
That man — with his piercing gaze, his cocky grin on the lips she’d spent days trying not to think about, and those hands that had touched her like she was something special to behold.
He shouldn’t be here.
He was a distraction. A fantasy. The personification of everything she wanted but hadn’t earned yet.
And he made her uneasy. Self-conscious in a way she had never been before.
Until that moment, Joy hadn’t understood why.
Those golden eyes lingered on her too long and looked through her like they had x-ray vision.
From the moment they met, she’d felt exposed beneath that stare — like there was nowhere to hide.
But Joy needed to hide.
Her success depended on controlling the narrative.
So she would keep her distance from the man who stirred feelings she had no business entertaining. The fascination would fade. His interest would wander.
And when it did, she could focus on what she came here to do.
Hopefully.