Page 90 of Unleashed

“I forgot to set my alarm! I have eighteen minutes to get showered, dressed, and into the office. There’s a good chance I’ll be late.”

“You shouldn’t even have to go in today.”

“But I do, and since my father isn’t the boss, I need to hurry.”

I ran into the bathroom, leaving Slade in bed. I took a sprint of a shower, maybe three minutes at most, dried myself in record time, and combed my hair before putting it in a ponytail. I hastily chose a dark blue striped dress and put on a baby blue bra and panty set. I could do my makeup in the cab if I wanted to get in even remotely close to 9 am.

“Slade, can you take my suitcase and lock up when you leave?”

“Of course.”

I left him as he pulled on the t-shirt I tore off when he made love to me only two hours before. Downstairs, I was lucky. A cab was coming by and had just switched on its in-service sign. I waved it down, jumped in, and started to apply my makeup.

“Miss? Where to?”

“Sorry.” I gave him the address and continued to fix my face. When we pulled up, it was ten minutes after nine—and despite being late, it was a record drive as far as I was concerned.

“Miss Kincaid,I’d like to see you in the conference room,” Michael's voice cut through the low hum of the office.

I glanced up from my desk, catching Stanley and Brian grinning like wolves. They relished in my misery, eager to see me squirm under Michael’s scrutiny. It didn’t help that I had been late—9:15 a.m., not a second earlier—and I knew he had seen me stroll in. But with everything simmering between us lately, I had no idea what he might say.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, forcing a steady tone.

Smoothing my dress, I stood and hurried toward the conference room, my heels clicking sharply against the floor. Just as I reached the door, Michael entered behind me, his presence as commanding as ever. The faint scent of citrus cologne trailed in his wake. His navy suit fit him perfectly, crisp and professional, and not a single hair on his head was out of place. I followed him in, nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

Once we were inside, he hit the button to turn the glass opaque and flicked the lock with an unnerving finality. He took his seat at the head of the long, polished mahogany table, the black leather chair squeaking slightly as he leaned back, fingers drumming against the wood. I stood there for a moment, unsure of whether to sit or remain standing.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, breaking the silence, my voice softer than I intended. “I forgot to set my alarm.”

His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked up to meet mine. “Forgot to set it, or were you... entertaining someone?”

My stomach twisted. “Seriously? That’s how you want to start this conversation?”

He arched a brow. “How should I start it, then?”

“By apologizing, you arrogant ass,” I snapped, crossing my arms. “That little stunt you pulled on Monday night? Pretty lame.”

“Lame how?” His voice was cold, challenging.

“You turned into a bag of ice, Michael. You completely shut down.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m not used to being rejected. Excuse me if I reacted... improperly.”

“It hurt,” I admitted, my voice dropping. “You hurt me.”

“Touché, Miss Kincaid,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You slashed me with a rapier sword.”

I scoffed. “I slashed you? I never promised you anything. You’re asking for something I can’t give you yet.”

His gaze hardened. “Why? I want to know.”

I hesitated, feeling the tension thick between us. “I just... can’t.”

In an instant, he was on his feet, striding toward me. He grabbed my wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Is this a game to you?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “You use your gorgeous face and that soft voice to reel men in, only to break their hearts?”

I pulled my arm free, my heart racing. “I’ve done nothing of the sort. You wanted this.”

His jaw clenched as he sank back down into the chair, eyes never leaving mine. “And you didn’t? What, did I force you? Is that what you’re saying?”

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