Page 30 of Hold On Me

Still grinning, he nods his head at Angie, agreeing with her point, and waves his hand at me to continue.

“Travis made me laugh, eased my nerves a little. And then Ben cleared his throat behind us. I was hoping to carry on the flirty banter we’d had at the interview, but he just looked through me, like he used to do. Then accused me of flirting my way through the office and demanded I do my job by making him tea.”

Jameson grabs my hand and squeezes as his brows meet in the middle. Angie growls through the screen, and a little spark of love zings my heart for my two besties.

“I was hurt. I’ve fought so hard to not be anything like her…” I pause for a second and choke back the tears threatening to spill as Jameson's eyes darken dangerously. The weight of my secrets is heavy on my chest. I quickly look at Angie on the screen, who gives me a discreet sympathetic smile.

“You’re nothing like her. I’ve told you this time and time again.” His voice is strained and I know he’s keeping his temper in check by gritting his teeth together. I also know I have to keep talking to get his attention away from the murderous thoughts darkening his mind. This is why I can’t tell him what happened at the school. With a pointed look at Angie, she tips her head in acknowledgement—she understands now.

“I was angry. Furious. He was so damn arrogant, but I was more annoyed at myself. I knew he was like this, but I still thought maybe, just maybe, he might have changed. The guy who interviewed me wasn't the same one who’d ignored me and treated everyone like they were beneath him for the past few years. The guy who interviewed me was the fake. And I was an idiot.”

Before they can argue with me, I take a sip of my juice and carry on quickly. “Anyway, I made his tea, slammed it on his desk, and didn’t see him for the rest of the day. I didn’t expect Jenson to make a visit to his new bestie.”

Once the laughter subsides, I blow out a breath.

“I just want to put my head down, do my job and look for another one so when my dad recovers I can have something to go to. I don’t want to make the same mistake twice.” Angie offers me a sympathetic smile as Jameson squeezes my hand.

“We’ll handle this. Don’t worry. But you know why he was mad, right?”

My eyes shoot to his and I can see the amusement in them now. The contrast between now and a few minutes ago is like night and day. Turning my head to the screen, I see Angie rollingher lips between her teeth, suppressing a laugh. I shrug my shoulders and Jameson sighs.

“He was jealous. He saw his assistant, the lady who was flirting with him on Friday, dressed like a fucking goddess, flirting with another man. He saw red. I’m not saying it’s right—he has no claim on you whatsoever—but you’re under his skin.”

I scoff at his ridiculous idea but Angie agrees with it. “He’s right. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

“He doesn’t look at me. That’s part of the problem.” I roll my eyes and shift slightly on my seat trying to brush off the way his eyes devoured me on Friday when it was just me and him in his office.

“He does when you’re not looking. He watches you. And the hunger in his eyes is off the charts.”

Before the interview I wouldn’t have believed her, but the memory of his slow, sexy smirk lets me lean into her words. The idea of him watching me, of his eyes trailing after me as I walk around a room, leaves me feeling hot and excited. I try to stem the blush from creeping up my neck and taking over my cheeks, but I know it’s useless. As my face blazes with heat, I shake my head and try to clear some of the embarrassment and lust from my mind.

“He asks about you a lot as well.”

Jamesons words have my eyes snapping to his quicker than anything. I tilt my head and narrow my eyes, wordlessly urging him to elaborate.

“When we have game night, or if we’re just having a drink together, he’ll bring you up. Normally after a few drinks, but always without fail. Silly questions about where you are or what you’re doing. Or he’ll drop in something Hank told him, see if we say anything more. We’ve always thought he has a little crush on you.”

Those last words, spoken by anyone else, I would’ve laughed my head off. But coming from Jameson gives me food for thought. He’s always been the observer. Quiet and stealthy, he can assess a situation or a person and understand what’s going on quickly.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. I don’t want this. One minute he’s flirty and the next all cold and mean. I’ve already got whiplash from it all and it’s only been a day. And I don’t need anyone thinking I’m after the richest man in our town. It’ll just make them think even worse of me. Tomorrow, I’ll go in and be professional. That’s it. And maybe I’ll wear another killer outfit to make myself feel better. Obviously. It’s not for anyone else. Just me.

I’m so screwed.

16

BEN

“What’s this?” My hands take the plain white box from Jenson cautiously. The smirk on his face is giving me ample reason for my concerns. My apprehension makes the smirk bloom into a full on smile, and I place the box a little further away from my chest.

“It’s just a peace offering you can give Buttercup.” He places his hands in his pockets and winks. “You’ll thank me later.” And without another word, he strides down the hallway and out of sight.

After the loss we had last night, we should both be fuming, but we’re standing in the hallways talking about peace offerings. My world is so skewed right now.

Hesitating over whether to open the box or not, I blow out a breath and carefully peel back the lid. Huh, a doughnut. This could work for me. It may help to soothe over the anger I caused.

I can’t blame her for her reaction yesterday. I acted like a fucking idiot. Spitting words out at her because she spoke to a colleague. I’m surprised she didn’t quit on the spot and punch me in the face at the same time.

Still clutching the box, I head back to my office, breathing a sigh of relief when she’s not at her desk. Once inside the confinesof my own office, I let my shoulders relax a little. My focus lands on some documents on my desk, and when I open the manilla file, I’m pleased to see the NDA form Penelope requested. I grab a pen, sign on the dotted line, scribble “I’m sorry” on a Post-it note, and stick it to the top of the doughnut box.

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