Page 27 of Take It Offline

I scoff. Treating me like filth doesn’t count, I guess. “Of course you’d see it that way.”

She continues to scowl out the window.

Fuck. Everything about her is clenched so tight I could probably farm diamonds out of her molars. There’s never a strand of her icy blond hair out of place.

Perfectly straight, middle part, no fun allowed.

Reese spent most of her junior year of high school in the world’s ugliest purple hat after an impromptu undercut from a curling iron.

Emma’s hair—permanently soft and always glowing under the fluorescents in the office—could win best in show.

“Look,” I try, gripping the steering wheel. “I know you don’t like me much, and I know I deserve it, but I’m trying to make it up to you. Do you think you could give me a chance to prove I’m not the monster you think I am?”

“I don’t know how Roberts thought this was going to work,” she sighs.

It’s a question I’ve been asking myself for weeks.

“It would be easier if you weren’t locking me out of the document I’m supposed to be helping you write,” I say.

She twists in her seat to face me. “I wouldn’t have to if you and Roberts stopped rewording everything.”

Daddy’s little princess must be so used to getting everything she wants. Emma probably assumed that she’d walk in and immediately be put in charge. I bet she hates that she has to compete for this promotion. Even more so because I’m the one she’s up against.

“Look, you might know the system backward, but maybe if you got off your pedestal?—”

She raises her voice three notches. “Excuse me?”

“—and listened to the people who are actually using it, as lowly as you might consider us?—”

“Stop the car. I’ll walk.”

I hit the lock button.

She whips around in her seat. “You’re seriously trapping me in here? I think this technically counts as kidnapping.”

So much for being nice. This is the last time I offer to help her.

“You’d rather risk your life than talk to me, but I’m the problem?”

She crosses her legs and glares out the window. Thank fuck I need to keep my eyes on the road. I can’t even decide whether I’m more mad about her attitude or how perfect her ass looks in those pants.

The damn smoke alarm between my thighs has been throbbing, low and constant, since she got in the car, an annoying and unnecessary reminder.Don’t know what you want from me, buddy. I see the fire, but I can’t do shit about it.

There’s no way to touch without getting burned, and yet I can’t help but want to anyway.

“I don’t think I’m better than you,” she bites out, as if it’s costing her to admit it. “It’s obvious you’ve made up your mind about me, and I can assure you that regardless of what you want to call me, I’ve already heard it. I’ve known guys like you my whole life.”

I doubt that.

“Sweetheart, there are no guys like me.”

She barks a laugh that borders on ugly. “You think that because you’re attractive, you can say anything you want. For an opportunistic dick, at least you’re stylish. Does the Zegna come with a hypocrisy discount, or is that a bonus?”

I white-knuckle the steering wheel in frustration. “You really wanna go there? When you’re hauling around a watch like that, even in your gym gear? What is it anyway, a Rolex?”

She covers it with her hand as though I’m about to reach over and take it. “Cartier.”

Of course.

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