“No matter what, you sure have some good eye candy there for you.”
I peek at where Grant is sitting and try not to get caught staring. He sits tall and assured, owning the room with his very presence. The meeting must be going well because he appears to be more relaxed than I’ve seen him since that night. As I watch his mouth move, I’m reminded of the kiss. I sigh, musing at how he’s easily one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen in my life. At that thought, his eyes meet mine. Neither of us turns away, and for one brief moment, the hostility seems to waver. In its place appears to be regret and . . . longing? He turns away, leaving me disappointed once again. There’s nothing there but hatred, and I’d do best to remember that.
“Earth to Bridget. You can stop staring at the boss now. It’s getting weird.”
I turn my eyes to my sister and roll them for good measure. “Tell me everything about you and Carson.”
Hopefully hearing about my sister and her perfect boyfriend will put all thoughts of Grant and that damn kiss out of my mind.
That fucking bitch.
I pace my office. After my lunch meeting yesterday, I met with both my lawyer and the private investigator I’d hired to look into Chelsea. I never went back to the office. Instead, I surprised Isabella by picking her up and taking her to the Museum Of Natural History. Seeing her eyes widen with wonder at the giant whale exhibit made me forget all the shit I’ve been dealing with at work, but today I can’t avoid it. The goal I’ve been dreading just came. One phone call, followed by copies of Chelsea’s emails has me fuming. This shit keeps getting worse and worse. I need her gone already. Not trying to take over and ruin shit. I thought we’d reached an accord. Found a way to coexist. But boy, was I wrong. And like the idiot I’ve been for the last few years, I’ve once again grown complacent. She did her thing. I did mine. It worked. Until I finally fucking looked at her emails and call logs. It had never stopped. I just stopped looking close enough.
Not only is she messing with my life, but she’s still dragging my brother into this clusterfuck. The fact she had Bridget hired to spy on my brother is ridiculous. I’ve never even heard Bridget speak of Spencer. Chelsea has gone too far.
We are done. We might not get along—fuck, I might hate her—but in business, we always saw eye to eye—until recently. But this . . .
This I can’t forgive.
I can’t pretend this never happened.
She directly went against my orders. Without a second thought, I throw open my door and march down the hall and to the elevator, once on Chelsea’s floor I barrel into her office. She lifts her head as I enter and plasters on her sadistic smile.
“What’s your angle, Chelsea?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Don’t play coy with me. I know you’re up to no good with Bridget’s recruiter.”
“You’re on a first name basis now, are you? Is she officially your side-piece?”
I slam my fist down on the desk, causing Chelsea to flinch. Good. “Don’t you ever talk about her like that again. Do you understand?”
“You are sleeping with her.”
“I’m not.” I seethe.
She narrows her eyes and begins a steady tapping of her long nails on the desk. “If you’re not sleeping with her, why the hell do you care what I say about her? She’s a temp. A very young temp.”
“I don’t need you to tell me any of this. She’s my employee. That’s all there is to it. She isn’t part of your game, and you won’t pull her into it. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
Without another word, I turn on my heel and stalk out of my wicked wife’s lair. She’s vile, and being in the same room with her is enough to choke the air right out of a person.
Between Chelsea driving me insane and Bridget in my space all the time, I don’t know how I’ve made it through the last few days of hell. Every day I grow angrier.
I can’t help but want Bridget. We’ve barely spoken, but just being in the same airspace as her makes me crazy. The visceral reaction I have to her is a workplace hazard. It’s like a particular part of my body doesn’t realize I can’t touch her. But every time she saunters into the room and looks at me with her big blue eyes and full lips, I want to push her against the wall and finish what we started in the alley. Maybe it’s just been too goddamn long since I got laid. Or even touched someone. It’s been at least four years, but I know it’s not that.
It’s just her.
Kissing Bridget, touching her, unleashed a beast I’d buried deep inside me. Now it can’t be quenched, and since there’s nothing I can do about it, I’m just fucking angry about it. Angry that she’s here to tease me, not that she knows she is. But with every sway of her hips, that’s exactly what she’s doing—teasing me. I’m angry that I’m weak.
Again.
I can’t let my dick lead my life. I know how it worked out for me last time. The only good thing I have to show for it is Isabella. I’d never regret her.
Never.
She’s the sunlight in my dark existence.
She is why I wake up. Why I come to work. Why I tolerate the abuse I subject myself to every day.
If it weren’t for Isabella and The L, life would be different. I’d be bending Bridget over my desk right now and sinking myself into her tight—
A discreet cough pulls me out of my dirty thoughts. Fuck. Speak of the devil. How is she always so flawlessly beautiful? I know she isn’t even trying. Her dirty-blond hair is pulled into a sloppy bun on the top of her head, and a pencil is tucked behind one ear. She looks like a sexy librarian with her pencil skirt and white button-down. A sexy librarian who needs to let loose.
I clear my throat and scrub my brain of the thoughts from moments ago.
“What do you want, Ms. Miller?” I hiss, barely able to maintain the hostility.
“I just wanted . . .” She pauses and bites her lip. The movement draws unwelcome attention to her mouth.
“Just wanted to . . .” I lead. My words come out harshly, but what does she expect when she’s making me look at her goddamn lips? Lips that at this minute I want wrapped around my—
“I have the file you asked for.” She lifts a folder in the air for emphasis.
“And did you get the pricing for all the viable options for the hotel?”
Her mouth drops open. Of course she didn’t. I never asked her to.
“You never said—”
“I don’t care that I never said anything. Learn to anticipate what’s needed of you.”
She mutters something under her breath that I can’t catch.
“What did you say?” I stare her down.
She looks me square in the eye, pulls back her shoulders, and stands a little taller.
There she is.
The spitfire from the other day.