Page 125 of Emerald Malice

I’m as cheered up as I could be, but I will never turn down fried chicken. I sit down and let him push my chair into the desk. “Thank you so much.”

He pulls his chair closer and sits down next to me. A little closer than necessary, but I’ve got my fried chicken goggles on.

“Just trying to be a gentleman.” He says it almost like he’s trying to insinuate that there are other men in my life who are far from gentlemanly.

I suppress a smile and accept the drink he offers me. “Well, you’ve certainly been that. Honestly, you’re a good friend.”

“‘Friend…’” He repeats the word bitterly.

I pretend like I didn’t hear as I reach for the pepper chicken. “Hm, it smells?—”

“Natalia.”

My hand freezes on the aluminum foil wrapping. Dread prickles down my spine. Swallowing, I turn to him. “Yes, Byron?”

“We’ve known each other a long time now.”

I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my skirt. “We have. Two years, I think.”

“Longer,” he insists. “Almost three.”

I give him a weak smile. “Has it been that long?”

His hand finds its way to my knee and I freeze. My eyes fall to the spot where his fingers are curling around my flesh. Squeezing. Kneading. He’s leaving behind little red divots everywhere he touches, like bedbugs.

“I don’t think it’s a secret how I feel about you.”

Mayday, mayday. Houston, we have a problem…

Where are my freaking bodyguards when I need them?

“Byron… listen?—”

“I know what you’re going to say.” Byron’s face contorts into a scowl. “Him. Well, fuck him, Natalia. He doesn’t deserve you. You need a man who truly appreciates you.”

It’s distracting how tightly he’s gripping my leg. It’s starting to hurt, honestly. “Byron… I’m carrying his child.”

“I don’t care! You said you weren’t with him. I don’t care that you’re having his baby. That’s how much I want you.”

My stomach twists. But not because of anything he’s saying. Well, not just because of what he’s saying.

It’s because, as he speaks, his hand moves higher and higher up my thigh, nudging my skirt out of the way.

“Byron, stop!”

“We could be great together, Natalia.”

My skin crawls as he reaches my inner thigh. Finally regaining some control over my body, I slap his hand away and get to my feet. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

His mouth falls open like a dumbstruck fish. “I’m just trying to make you understand?—”

“What I understand is that you’re my boss and you just put your hand up my skirt! It’s inappropriate.”

He shakes his head. “I know I’m your boss, but that doesn’t mean this can’t work.”

“This was supposed to be lunch.” The smell of the chicken is still taunting me. I’m starving, and I have a strong feeling I’m not going to be eating a bite. “I don’t want anything more than that, Byron.”

He narrows his eyes until they’re just slivers of black, the blue entirely gone. “You think this is inappropriate?”

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