Chapter 5 - After Hours #2
I walked in without knocking because the door was open.
"You wanted me?"
He didn't answer.
He was bent over his desk.
Drawing.
Not looking at a monitor.
Not reviewing somebody else's work.
Actually drawing.
I stopped.
I'd seen his designs.
Obviously.
Everyone had.
Adrian Vale's name was attached to buildings all over Miami.
But I'd never watched him work.
His head was lowered.
One hand rested against the paper while the other moved quickly.
Precise lines.
Confident.
No hesitation.
He erased something.
Redrew it.
Stopped.
Considered.
Changed an angle.
His hair had fallen forward again.
His sleeves were rolled.
The stupid little house tattoo was visible.
I looked at the drawing.
Then at the tattoo.
Then back at the drawing.
This was bullshit.
The man could draw beautifully.
Which meant there was absolutely no excuse for that house.
"Are you planning to stand there all evening?"
I jumped.
His eyes were still on the paper.
"You knew I was here?"
"You've been standing there for almost a minute."
"I was waiting."
"You were staring."
Apparently this was becoming a theme.
"I was looking at your drawing."
He finally looked up.
"What about it?"
I stepped closer.
"Nothing."
His eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"I said nothing."
"You have a face."
"Everybody keeps telling me that."
"What is it?"
I hesitated.
Then pointed.
"You can actually draw."
Silence.
I immediately realized how that sounded.
"I didn't mean-"
"I would hope so."
"No, obviously. I know. You're an architect."
"Good observation."
"It's just..."
My eyes dropped to his forearm.
He followed them.
The house.
His expression flattened.
I smiled.
"Nothing."
"Sit down, Ms. Stone."
I sat.
But I was fighting for my life not to laugh.
He knew.
He absolutely knew.
And somehow the realization that Adrian Vale understood I was silently insulting his tattoo was the funniest thing that had happened all week.
We went through the work.
He showed me a problem.
I suggested a change.
He disagreed.
I explained why.
He stared at the drawing for several seconds.
Then made the change.
I blinked.
"You agreed with me."
"Yes."
I waited.
He looked up.
"What?"
"Nothing. I just wanted to experience the moment."
His expression became irritated.
"There are many occasions when you're correct."
"Name three."
"Don't ruin it."
I stared at him.
He looked back down.
My mouth fell open.
That-
That was a joke.
I knew it was.
He knew I knew it was.
And neither of us said anything.
Something strange settled into the room.
Not uncomfortable.
That was the problem.
For the first time since I'd met Adrian Vale, silence with him wasn't uncomfortable.
I watched him make another note.
His hand moved across the page.
The watch at his wrist caught the light.
His sleeves were still rolled.
That ridiculous tattoo sat against his forearm.
And the scent of his cologne reached me again.
Cedar.
Warm.
Expensive.
Very him.
I looked at his face.
Really looked.
Bad idea.
Deep blue eyes lowered toward the page.
Dark lashes that had no business being that thick.
Sharp jaw.
Dark hair falling slightly over his forehead.
His expression focused rather than angry.
And without the usual hostility aimed directly at me, I was forced to confront something I'd been doing an excellent job of ignoring.
Adrian Vale was ridiculously handsome.
Not regular handsome.
Not my boss is objectively attractive handsome.
Unfair handsome.
The kind of handsome that made you irritated with the universe for wasting a face like that on such a difficult man.
He looked up.
Our eyes met.
Shit.
"How long are you planning to stare at me this time?"
My face warmed.
"I wasn't."
"You were."
"I was thinking."
"About my face?"
Oh God.
"No."
One eyebrow lifted.
"Your ego is unbelievable."
"You were looking directly at me."
"I have eyes. Sometimes they point at things."
His gaze stayed on mine.
Something shifted.
Just slightly.
The room suddenly felt-
No.
Absolutely not.
I stood.
"Are we done?"
A pause.
"Yes."
"Great."
I gathered my things.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Ms. Stone."
I made it to the door.
Then stopped.
Turned.
He had already looked back down at his drawing.
"Eat something."
His head lifted.
I smiled.
Then left before he could answer.
I drove home that night thinking about several deeply unnecessary things.
Adrian Vale had a tattoo.
Adrian Vale drank terrible coffee.
Adrian Vale apparently forgot meals.
Adrian Vale could make jokes.
Rarely.
Against his will.
But still.
He worked late.
He drew beautifully.
He smelled ridiculously expensive.
And messy-haired, rolled-sleeves Adrian was somehow even more offensively attractive than regular Adrian.
This was information I did not need.
Information I had not requested.
Information that was actively making my life worse.
Because Adrian Vale was supposed to be simple.
He was my asshole boss.
He hated me.
I disliked him.
End of story.
Except lately, after everyone else went home and the office got quiet, I kept catching glimpses of things that didn't quite fit.
A crooked little house.
A dry joke.
A tired face.
A man underneath the CEO.
I didn't know what any of it meant.
And I definitely didn't know why I was starting to want to.