I blink, totally dumbfounded by what he means.
揇on抰 even try. We both know you抮e a depressingly bad liar.?He crosses his arms again, leans back in his chair, and tilts his head up, spearing me with those stern earthy eyes. 揂re you going to pretend you don抰 know??
揇on抰 know what??I抦 about to lose my shit. I抦 so not in the mood for guessing games today. 揑抳e done everything you抳e ever asked me to, including working two full-time jobs. I get your coffee, your stupid rolls梬hich I had to buy twice today because the first batch spilled梱ou抮e welcome. I always reply to your messages promptly even when I抦 not on the clock.?
I run out of breath, giving him the opening he needs.
揂nd you think that justifies the bullshit you pulled Saturday??he growls.
What did I pull on Saturday?
揧ou抣l have to be more specific. With the workload you抳e belted me with, I抦 running on four hours of sleep most days.?And dealing with ridiculous messages from my loser ex. 揊rom what I recall, I spent most of the day writing copy for an ungrateful boss.?
揅ute. You expect me to believe that抯 all you were writing??
揌uh??
揧ou weren抰 writing copy, were you??
What the hell? Was he spying on me somehow when I spent five minutes working on poetry?
揥e抳e been through this. You do not own me. What I do away from here or on my breaks is none of your concern.?
揑t is when it抯 wildly inappropriate and you send it to me attached to an ordinary work email,?he snarls back.
Seriously, what is he talking about?
I cock my head, giving him a look that warns I抦 a stick of dynamite with a fuse getting dangerously short.
揗r. Burns桳incoln梩his would be way easier if you抎 just tell me what the hell you抮e talking about. I have no earthly clue. And if you think I抦 lying, forget the ninety days. I抣l walk right out this door without waiting for a pink slip.?
His eyes soften as he uncrosses his arms and wheels his chair closer to his desk. He lays his arms on the sleek wood and leans forward.
揂 lesson she never learns. And so she burns,?he says darkly.
Wait. What?
I thought he didn抰 like poetry? Hearing this man quoting anything literary sounds obscene. Certainly NSFW in that angry smolder he calls a voice.
The words coming out of his mouth are filthy, too, making me blush.
They抮e also梖amiliar? Startlingly familiar.
But before he even speaks, my heart forgets how to beat.
揃urns who? Burns what? Burns me,?he quotes slowly. Lethally. 揃ut he抯 her king. Her fling. Her boss. Her loss.?
Screaming.
Inwardly, I抦 flipping screaming my insides out.
My throat closes. I grasp the sides of my chair so I don抰 fall out of it. The blood rushes away from my head.
For a split second, I think I might pass out. Thank God I抦 already sitting.
Deep breath.
I think about the other lines, too shameful to even dwell on.
So they fall down in bed.
With every thrust the darkness falls away.
With every thrust.
Oh, God.
He抯 read it all and he抯 disgusted.
And honestly, he should be.
I need to follow through on my threat to quit.
Resign right now.
That抯 the only way I fix this.
There抯 no crawling back after this. But first, I抳e got to stop crying.
I cover my face with my hand. Hot tears won抰 be held back and they come pouring down my cheeks.
This time, it抯 not a dream, and I抳e got no hot imaginary knight to save the day.
My boss knows my deepest, darkest desires.
He knows my pain.
He knows my art, my life, my soul revolves around him.
10
Fancy Unto Fancy (Lincoln)
Here we fucking are.
Me, Nevermore, and the height of absurdity.
If she weren抰 already in tears, I抎 laugh.
My temporary assistant-slash-copywriter named Poe sent me angsty poetry about bedding me.
Now that I know she抯 interested, I抦 torn between telling her we should find out just how much color I can burst into her world and apologizing for being the biggest dickhead alive.
I don抰 even know if sending me that file was an honest mistake.
The lump of pure guilt in my stomach doesn抰 care.
I have her working two jobs. I抦 the man putting her under the gun to market an important new line. Hell, I even have her chasing down my damn rolls for Wyatt.
Mistakes happen. I抦 a forgiving man, but we need to talk about this.
Still, there抯 no denying it would be a far bigger deal if she抎 sent that attachment to someone else, though.
Dakota hides her red face in her hands. The neckline of her dress dips into her cleavage as she moves, drawing attention to round globes I hate that I want to maul.
Her rough sniffle keeps my dick in check.
Damn. She抯 going to pieces and it抯 my fault.
揗iss Poe, look at me,?I say gently.
She doesn抰 lift her head. She抯 paralyzed, face buried in her hands and at her wit抯 end.
揑桰抣l just resign. G-go clear my things now.?Her broken voice trembles. She hears me shifting, beginning to stand when she says, 揑 need a minute. Please.?
For a few heady seconds, I抦 quiet.
揕ook at me,?I try again.
Fuck. I抳e slipped into the voice I haven抰 used since a combat zone, when using it meant saving lives.
She raises her tear-streaked face slowly, meets my eyes, and darts her head down again.
Shit.
I broke her. I made her cry. I left her pride a smoking wreck on the floor.
Lincoln Burns, you absolute jagoff, I think with my lip curling.
揗iss Poe桪akota桰 didn抰 mean to put you on the spot today. I certainly didn抰 intend to reduce you to tears,?I say, trying like hell to soften my voice.
揑-I抦 s-s-sorry.?
Wonderful. All my request did was turn her occasional sniffle into a sobbing fit.
揇akota棓
If she hears me, she doesn抰 respond.
Do something, you buffalo. Move your ass.
I get up, walk around my desk, and kneel down beside her. I place a hand on her arm and pray she doesn抰 flinch.
揕isten桰抦 not that upset. I抦 confident you wouldn抰 throw around your梱our work梞aliciously. Assuming this was an honest mistake, you抮e forgiven,?I say, moving my fingers over hers.
Such soft skin, but I can抰 dwell on that now.
It抯 almost worse that she抯 so fragile, so battered, so shredded apart.
Is this really all thanks to my dumbassery? Or was it just the final thread unraveling this smart, gorgeous young woman?
She won抰 even look at me.
Still, I don抰 give up. I fucking can抰.
I clear my throat and get on with it.
揑f you must know, I won抰 accept your resignation. You still have over sixty days, last I checked. I抦 sorry for my fit. You do brilliant work. Hell, most days you work harder, longer, and better than half the senior people here.?I pause. 揧ou抳e become a crucial asset in such a short time. I can抰 give you up without a fight.?
I抦 trying. I really am.
Apparently, not well when she sobs harder.
揑 can抰 work here anymore, M-Mr. Burns. You抣l think棓
揑 don抰 think anything,?I rush out.
揧es, you do. You think棓
I stop her by rubbing my hand up and down her arm in slow circles.
Goddamn, if we weren抰 having this melancholy heart-to-heart, my blood would be molten. Even now, I can smell her, and it unscrews my brain in the very worst ways.
揥oman, the only thing I think is that you抮e damned talented. Even that little diddy I lost my shit over梚t was creative and well-written. I can see why personal writing gives you rather unique copywriting skills.?
揃ut棓 She sobs. 揃ut you were right. It was totally inappropriate. Out of line. And now you just...you know. You saw what I wrote about棓
揗iss Poe,?I clip, silencing her.
I force back a smile that抯 beyond inappropriate and immediately regret it when I notice Dakota抯 whole face is red. She抯 stiff and sobbing, spiraling into a full-blown panic.
Nothing funny about that.