Page 63 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

“We can’t walk out of this room alone together,” I repeat.

He narrows his eyes on me, his voice hardening, the whip of anger in his energy. “We can, and we will, because a) we have a client in need that comes before this party, and b) I’m your boss and that was a work directive, not a request. I’m going to take care of my client. You need to decide if my client is your client.” He turns and starts walking, expecting me to follow, or maybe he doesn’t.

I quickly step to his side, but I don’t speak. I was wrong in my reaction just now. I let personal feelings dictate my response, not business, and I could blame Lance’s appearance, but any excuse is unacceptable. I need to say that to him when we’re alone. “What are we doing?” I ask.

“Our jobs,” he says, motioning to Reese, who meets us at the door. “I have a high-profile client with law enforcement breathing down her throat. I’m going to my office to deal with it.”

“We’re winding down anyway,” Reese says. “I can handle this here. Let me know if you need me.”

Cole nods and opens the door, allowing me to exit first, and it’s only moments later that we step inside the elevator, where he punches the call button, but he doesn’t reach for me. He doesn’t look at me. He’s angry. I let the personal side of things affect my job. He said he would not be easy on me. I don’t want him to be easy on me. The doors shut and he sends a text message and by the time he’s done, we’re two floors up. The doors once again part and I step outside.

Still Cole doesn’t speak. We enter the main offices, and he flips on the lights. “My office,” he says, and that’s all. We walk together, side-by-side, and the silence continues. Finally, we are at his office, though I’m not even sure why this is a relief. It just is. He opens the door, flips on that light, and gives me room to enter. And I really don’t know what to expect next.

I step inside.

“Shut the door,” he orders, following me into the room, and crossing to his desk.

This time I do as I’m told without question. I shut the door and when I turn around, Cole is still standing, his fists pressed to the desk, clearly waiting on me. I cross the room, him watching my every step with those penetrating, unreadable blue eyes. I could sit, but I choose to stop between the two visitor’s chairs directly in front of him. And now, I’m waiting on him. Now, it’s his move.

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