Page 16 of Donut Overthink It

Trevor turns to face the doors, straightening his already perfect tie, and silence falls over the elevator. When it dings on his floor, he leans over and says, “Don’t forget about my offer,” then walks off.

“What offer is he talking about?” Mr. Kyle asks from behind me. I can hear the aggravation in his voice.

“I’m not sure,” I say, refusing to turn around and look at him.

“Miss Burns …”

The elevator comes to a stop on our floor, and I get off, knowing that he has to go up to his penthouse to get ready. For a second, I wonder why he stayed here overnight. I saw him at the restaurant last night on the other side of town. It was much closer to his house. But instead of asking and making him think I care, I stay silent.

I’m the first one here, so I take my time turning on all the lights and then his computer, followed by mine. I start a pot of coffee since I didn’t grab him any tea this morning. I didn’t even think he would be here this early, considering when he calls me in early, he usually shows up later. And then I drop off the donuts in the conference room for his clients today.

I walk into my office with my cup of coffee and see a manila envelope on it. I take a sip and then put my coffee down before I open it. I look down into it and see little square pieces of paper that look like photos. I dump it upside down and shake it. Four pictures fall on my desk, and my breath catches in my throat when I see what they are.

“What the …?”

I pick the first one up and see it’s me at the restaurant last night. I’m standing in the hallway in front of my boss, and he’s holding my phone. Another one is of my back against the wall, and he’s pushed up against me. The third is his lips down by my ear. My eyes are closed, and you can clearly see the way my body leans into his. The last one looks like he’s kissing me, but it’s just the angle. ’Cause I know that didn’t happen.

Angry tears start to sting my eyes at the thought of him doing this to me, and my hands begin to shake with anger. He’s gone too far this time! I won’t stand back and let someone bully me like he is. My job be damned.

I storm off the elevator and pound my fist on his apartment door. It swings open seconds later, and my knees threaten to buckle when I see him standing there with just a towel wrapped around his narrow hips and nothing else. His hair is damp but slicked back as if he just ran his hand through it. Water runs down over his hard chest and defined abs. The towel sits low, and I fist my hands down by my side to keep from tugging the fabric free.

He looks even better soaking wet. As if that was possible.

“Miss Burns, just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demands.

My jaw tightens at his voice. The same one that makes me want to throw coffee on him at times. The one that makes my skin crawl. I could stare at him all day, but as soon as he bosses me around, I want to kick him in the balls. My eyes snap up to his. “Do you want me to quit?” I demand.

“What?”

“Do you really think you can blackmail me?” I snap, stepping into his penthouse, forcing him take a step back. Those angry tears are back and blurring my vision. His eyes widen in shock that I stepped into his space. He opens his mouth, but I continue. “I have done everything you have ordered me to do, but that’s still not good enough for you,” I shout, a tear falling free and running down my face. He watches it as if he’s never seen one before. Confused and at a loss for words. “So you think it’s okay to toy with me. Like I’m one of those other women you play with.” That gets a reaction. His eyes narrow, glaring down at me. I wipe a fresh tear away from my face. I’m so mad at myself for letting this man get to me this way. “I will have you know that I don’t care how powerful you think you are, you will not bully me into submitting to you,” I snap.

He crosses his arms over his sculpted chest, and I love how smooth it is. My hands itch to run over it. God, I’m so pathetic. “Are you done?” he asks. His voice no longer holds any surprise, just annoyance.

“No!” I shout and then take a deep breath. He stands there as water continues to roll down his body in waves, and my heart beat pounds in my chest. I open my mouth a few times, but nothing comes out. Instead, I bow my chest out and say, “Yes.”

“Would you care to explain what you’re talking about in a calm manner?” he asks with sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Oh, you son of a …” He arches a brow, daring me to finish that statement, but I don’t. Instead, I rip open the envelope and shake out the pictures into my other hand. I shove them into his hard and wet chest. And as if being around him makes me think slower than usual, I realize I had interrupted his shower. As I look closer, I can still see suds on him. I inhale, and the scent of his soap makes my mouth water and pussy wet.

“What’s this?” he asks, removing them from my hand before they can fall to the floor. I watch his eyes look them over, and his jaw tightens. “Where did you get these?” he growls.

I give a rough laugh. “Don’t play stupid …”

He steps up to me, and the look of fury in his blue eyes causes me to stop talking. His chest is pressed up against mine, and I can feel the wetness seep into my dress. “Where the fuck did you get these?” he roars.

I swallow nervously as if I’ve done something wrong. “You left them on my desk.”

“Why the fuck would I leave these on your desk?” he shouts, holding them up before throwing them to the floor.

I take another step back. Maybe I was wrong. “I … uh …”

He follows me as his eyes bore into mine. I’ve never seen him look so pissed in the three months I’ve worked for him. And believe me when I say he hates me. “Miss Burns?” he snaps, and I jump.

“I thought you wanted me to quit so you were blackmailing me about last night,” I say, and my heart pounds in my chest at the explanation.

He stands to his full height and pulls his shoulders back. “If I wanted to fire you, I would, Miss Burns,” he says flatly. Then he spins around, giving me his back. He lifts his hands, running both through his wet hair, and I wish I could admire the way his muscles ripple and how the tight towel pulls against his perfect ass, but I can’t. My mind races a hundred different ways that have to do with those pictures scattered on his floor.

“I’m …”

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