Page 25 of The Opposite Effect

She places the ordering clipboard on the middle shelf and shifts on her feet to face me. When her icy-blue eyes lock with mine, my furious composure slips for the quickest second. She looks more concerned now than she did when I threatened for her to collect her last paycheck ten minutes ago. I guess this is the first time I’ve used her real name in the past six weeks.

I nudge my head to the hallway, wordlessly demanding that she follow me. Not waiting for her to reply, I spin on my heels and stride to my office. If her rich floral scent hadn’t infused the air around me, I would have assumed she wasn’t following me. She’s so quiet, not even the clicking of her heels on the tiled floor sounds through my ears as we make our way down the corridor and into my office.

I move to my desk, prop my backside on the edge, then lift my eyes to the office door. Clara is standing in the open doorway, looking prepared to flee at any moment. Her pupils are wide, and her face is flushed.

This is the one part of my job I fucking hate. Just like I’m not a violent man, I also loathe confrontation, but Clara overstepped the mark tonight, and she must be reprimanded for it. I warned her when I offered her a trial at Inked that if she scared away anyof my customers, she’d be out on her ass quicker than I could snap my fingers. Although it will take more than a spiteful threat to scare off a regular client like Hugo, she still shouldn’t have said what she did.

When Clara remains standing halfway between the hallway and my office, I request, “Close the door.”

Her throat struggles to swallow before she does as requested. Once the door is closed—blocking out the buzzing of tattoo guns—I gesture to the couch.

Her eyes follow mine before she timidly shakes her head. “I’m happy to stand,” she informs me as her eyes stray from the couch to me. “If you’re going to fire me, Brax, can you hurry up and get it over with?”

A deep sigh spills from my lips. “You don’t have anything else to say? No pleading for clemency? No begging for forgiveness?”

“No,” she replies with a brisk shake of her head.

I balk, utterly shocked.

“I did nothing wrong, so why would I feel the need to apologize?” she argues to my baffled expression.

I arch my brow. “Are you fucking kidding me? You did nothing wrong?” Pushing off the desk, I walk two steps closer to her. “You not only disrespected my business, my crew, and me with the little spectacle you unleashed, you disrespected yourself.”

Her eyes bounce between mine, her confusion growing by the second.

“We’re a family at Inked. The instant you agreed to work here, you became one of us. Anything said or done to a member of our family is done to thewholefamily, so when you ran your mouth about my business, you were running your mouth about yourself.”

She inhales a sharp breath as the fiery spark in her eyes is smothered with shock.

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I’d always wonderedwhy you chose to work at Inked instead of one of those fancy boutiques you buy your dresses from. Only now does it dawn on me why you showed up on this side of town. You didn’t think anyone from your neck of the woods would turn up here.”

Clara’s tongue delves out to lick her parched lips, but she doesn’t speak a peep.

“Well, I have news for you, Princess. Having tattoos doesn’t make you trashy. I’vedoodledon judges, lawyers, doctors, and even stuck-up littleprincesseswho have fancy-colored credit cards that cost a quarter-of-a-mil a year just to have.”

The harshness of my words dulls when I spot a sheen of moisture forming in her eyes, but it doesn’t completely stop my reprimand. “If your plan is to hide away from your country club friends in a place you won’t be seen, the door is that fucking way.” I point to the entrance of Inked. “As I guarantee you have just as much chance of being seen here as you would in some fancy dress shop on the other side of town.”

After issuing my disappointment with my eyes instead of words, I walk around my desk and take a seat in my cracked leather chair. I secure a set of invoices off my desk and shuffle through them, needing something to distract my hands from the urge to take Clara over my knee and spank the sass right out of her.

Maybe that’s half her problem? Perhaps her parents didn’t discipline her enough?

My gaze lifts from the invoices in my hand when Clara whispers, “Am I fired?”

The roaring of blood in my ears slows as my gaze drifts between her remorse-filled eyes. “I said your position at Inked is yours for as long as you want it. I’m a man who keeps my word.”

Relief swamps her eyes as she gently nods.

“But if you disrespect my crew or me again, I may reconsider.”

She once again nods before pivoting on her heels and stalking to the door.

The furious twitch impinging my jaw lessens when the faintest murmur of, “I’m sorry, Brax,” seeps from her lips before she slips out of my office as quietly as she entered.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Standing from my office chair, I down the glass of whiskey I’ve been nursing the past thirty minutes before snagging my jacket thrown over the edge of my desk. Considering it is a little after midnight on a Saturday, I don’t bother checking if the premises are vacant. All the crew of Inked evacuates the instant the clock strikes midnight, more than eager to commence their two-day weekend. Clara included.

Ever since my run-in with Clara three weeks ago, things at Inked have changed. I’d like to say a majority of the change has been Clara’s attitude, but unfortunately, that isn’t entirely the case. Although she has toned down her prima-donna attitude, she’s still coldhearted and standoffish.

---