Chapter Seven
SHAYLA
T HE KONTIDES & PARTNERS boardroom is silent except for the hum of the air conditioning and the soft tap of my fingers on the keyboard. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflect our images against the night skyline—me at one end of the glass table, Adriano at the other.
It's also nearly midnight, and even though I still have so many cases to review, I'm still dangerously distracted by the sharp line of my boss's jaw as he reads his half of the workload.
Pathetic, right?
For almost nine years, I've prided myself for being immune to the great Adriano Kontides. I'm the only girl who's known him this long and still haven't fallen for him. But ever since he found that my marriage—and subsequent divorce—was fake?
Everything's changed.
For the better worse.
I catch him looking at me all the time now, and he doesn't even have the decency to pretend that he wasn't. Or act uncomfortable at being caught. He only stares back at me with those beautiful brilliant blasted silver eyes of his, just staring at me like I'm suddenly something he's found worth devouring—
I'm always the one who's forced to look away like a coward in the end, and it just makes me grit my teeth every time I remember this.
Like, seriously.
What is wrong with him?
And me?
For, like, thinking and speaking, like, I've been given a role in, like, a remake of Clueless?
This has to be Adriano's fault, darn it.
And Hope's, too.
For making me actually pray when I've never ever prayed—
And talking to God when I don't even know if I want Him to be real—
And worst of all, for making me actually try to imagine who God's choice is for my bridegroom.
Ugh, just ugh.
Just remembering who I saw in my mind makes me feel like slamming my head against the desk over and over.
I just have a hard time believing that my visions of my future husband—
"The notes you scribbled here," my boss suddenly says irritably. "They're completely wrong. Use a damn pencil next time so we don't need to cross anything out. It just complicates things unnecessarily."
—looked awfully like the billionaire ogre I'm stuck working overtime for at present.
"Understood, sir."
Silver eyes immediately narrow at my direction. "Don't take that tone with me."
Oh, does he think he's going to scare me with that?
I cross my arms over my chest. "You started it."
"Excuse me?"
In the almost-nine years I've known him, there's only one reason for my boss to suddenly speak with a noticeable Greek accent.
"You heard me."
And that reason is the anger I now see stamped over the chiseled features of his face, which I find even more annoyingly gorgeous at the moment.
What in the world is wrong with me?
He throws his case file on the desk.
And so I do, too.
Because I can be childish when I want to.
"You're picking a fight with me." His accent is awfully thicker. He's also speaking as if he's handing out a death sentence with each word, and all of them are for my wrongdoing.
"Of course not," I say demurely even though we both know I'm lying. "I'm just being honest—"
"You mean disrespectful," Adriano snaps.
"If it means so much to you, then alright. I was just being disrespectfully hon—"
"Enough."
I know right away I've pushed him too far.
I'm dead.
I make a run for it, but Adriano is so much faster, and the next thing I know he has me trapped against the wall, my hands captured over my head, and I'm torn between fear and excitement as my annoyingly gorgeous boss glares down at me.
"You say we have nothing to talk about," he bites out, "and yet the way you're acting makes it clear there is."
"I have no idea—"
"Do you know what I'm thinking of right now?"
"No." Yes. And it only makes me feel even more frightened and excited at the same time.
"I'm thinking I had it all wrong."
"Tell me more, please." Because Adriano Kontides admitting a mistake? Music to my ears, always.
But when his lips slowly form a smile, and I see how it doesn't reach his eyes at all—
Why do I have a feeling that I've just walked into a trap?
"Talking about what's changed between us is a waste of time."
It is?
"I should have just shown you instead."
What? Wait. No!
I'm not sure if it's his smoldering proximity that's dumbed me down or work that's fried my brain. Either way, it's too late by the time I realize what he's saying.
Nooooooo.
I only get as far as pressing my hands against his chest, intending to shove him off. But the moment the warm heat of his mouth closes over mine, my fingers involuntarily curl, and when his lips pry mine apart, I end up clutching my boss's shirt as his tongue slides inside my mouth.
Aaaah.
My toes curl inside of my shoes. Hard.
Like, as hard as my heart is pounding right now.
Because I've never been kissed this way.
Never.
And so for this to happen with the man I've been working for all this time?
It should feel wrong, but it doesn't.
Everything about this should feel wrong.
The way he's kissing me so hungrily and forcefully?
Or the way he's making it so impossible for me to breathe as his big, hard body presses against mine, and my breasts begin to swell and ache against his chest?
It should all feel wrong, but it doesn't.
And the longer and deeper he kisses me, it feels as if almost a decade's worth of pretences start to fade—
No, oh no.
It can't be.
Adriano suddenly wrenches his head away, and even as I take much-needed gulps of air, our eyes have collided— `
It can't.
But the truth I can no longer deny also glitters back at me from his gaze.
We wanted this.
From the start.
We both wanted this.
And as soon as the thought becomes impossibly clear in my mind—
It's all over for me.
When he lets go of my hands, I don't push him away.
When he reaches for me, I remain completely still.
It's as if knowing we've both wanted each other from the start has cast a spell on me, and there's suddenly this restless craving inside of me. Like a part of me has had needs that have been unmet for eight long years.
And a half.
But who's counting, right?
We take our time undressing each other, both of us seemingly of one mind without having to talk about anything. Maybe it comes from all the years we've been working together. Maybe it's something else.
But honestly?
I don't care to know why right now.
Because I'm too busy staring and gulping.
I've only managed to take his shirt off, and he already has me feeling so ridiculously hot and bothered.
How is he, like, so smooth and hard all over?
And when my gown falls into a pool around my feet, leaving my heaving flesh exposed to his gaze?
I thought I was already burning up.
But the moment I see how he's staring at my breasts?
Well, now I know better.
Now I know what it means for someone's stare to set me on fire.
His hands clasp my waist, and I start feeling delirious as soon as he has me seated on the edge of the desk. I thought I'd have time to gather my thoughts, even just for a few seconds, but no.
He cups one breast in his hand, his mouth closing over a sensitive tip, and all I can do is clutch his head and whimper. It's the sweetest agony, for him to taste me like this, one breast at a time. But just when I feel I'm about to shatter at any moment—
Adriano pulls away, and I barely manage to bite back a cry of protest.
"You're driving me crazy, Shayla. I want you. More than I've ever wanted anyone."
So apparently, there's a second reason for my boss to speak with a strong accent.
Because right now, Adriano's Greek accent is thicker than ever.
And it makes me want him.
So, so much.
But when I think about completely surrendering to him—
Not yet.
There's still a part of me that's holding back.
And so I hear myself whisper, "Not just yet."
His jaw clenches.
"But instead..."
His entire body jerks when I reach for the hem of his pants.
And he ends up sharply sucking his breath when my hand disappears inside of it.
I try wrapping my fingers around him, but I realize to my shock that I can't.
I really can't.
He's just too...
How is this possible?
"Too big for you, Ms. Tolentino?"
Oh, that mocking tone of his voice.
It makes me want to kick him so bad.
And kiss him just as bad, to be honest.
So I simply decide to start moving my hand.
And I have my sweet revenge as my boss's entire body turns rigid.
But it doesn't end there, of course.
Because nothing is ever easy between the two of us.
And so...
"Adriano."
He's now touching me just as intimately, and his name slips out in a whimper.
My hand starts moving faster.
And so does he.
Our eyes lock as our breathing quickens.
I can't stop looking at him, and he can't stop looking at me either.
The sounds our hands make are driving me mad. And I think it's the same for him, too.
I want him so, so much.
So, so much.
And it's as if something inside of us is now completely attuned to each other.
Because we feel it the same time.
That one moment of knowing you're about to fall.
Adriano grasps a fistful of my hair just as my body starts to shake. His mouth crashes over mine just as I cry out. Both of us shattering at the same time, our bodies shuddering against each other. And it lasts so, so long.
So impossibly long.
That it almost feels like an eternity has passed when the waves of pleasure washing over me finally start to fade.
And I slowly regain my senses.
And come face to face with the consequences of my decision.
Did I just...
Did he just...
Did we just...
And am I still holding him right now?
Seriously?
Adriano stiffens when I yank my hand out of his hold and jump off the desk. I can feel him staring at me as I grab my gown off the floor and dress myself in a hurry. I start grabbing my things, and when I reach for a phone, I see several messages from Hope waiting for me.
I know it's hard to say no, but sex will only complicate things.
She's, like, totally right, but it's also, like , totally too late.
"Shayla—"
He reaches for me as soon as I turn around, but when he sees me flinch—
His handsome face turns expressionless.
I'm sorry.
But because we've known each other far too long, I know I've hurt him.
I'm so, so sorry.
But all I can think of right now is how my own parents both told me how they used to love each other so, so passionately—
"Let's please pretend this never happened."
—until they just didn't.
And then I'm walking away without looking back.