Page 146 of Rush of Jealousy

“You don’t look sorry. You look satisfied.”

“Well, that too.”

“You may be the reason why I fire all the male staff members and just hire females.”

I make a face. “That sounds like a horrible idea. You know how moody we can get,” I joke.

“This is true.”

Graham leads me to the sink area where we wash hands. When I start to dampen a paper towel to clean myself, he discards of it before I get the chance.

“But—”

“I want your body to have every reminder it can of where I’ve been. What I own. I want to possess your thoughts, because you consume mine.”

I bite my bottom lip and watch his reflection in the mirror. With a smack to my ass and a yelp from me, we leave the restroom.

Graham shows me around the different departments of his building. When we pass through several corridors with huge, framed advertisements displayed on the walls, Graham briefly shows me the different layout ads and magazine features, adding a few comments about the dates behind each. I am surprised Sophia is not lurking around the building; we have yet to run into her. I resist mentioning her name. Maybe it is her day off or maybe she is keeping the low profile Graham told her to do.

“You want to head out and get some lunch?” he asks.

“Sounds good.” Now that my nerves have simmered down, my stomach is cramping from hunger.

We leave HH and walk to a little bistro a few blocks away and get delicious Thai food. I enjoy an iced coffee made with condensed milk with my meal. It definitely helps with the burn from the spicy coconut chicken rice soup I ordered.

“Promise me you will be safe tonight when you go out with Claire?”

“I’m always safe.”

He eyes me speculatively. “Danger always finds you. And I’ll be on the brink of a nervous breakdown all evening until I know you get back to your townhouse safely.”

“Just relax. I’ll be fine. Plus, I am sure you will have a whole Project Angie squad prepared to slay any hypothetical dragons I encounter.”

His eyes flash with an emotion I cannot distinguish. “Don’t leave your drink unattended. Definitely do not drink from anyone else. And please don’t forget that there are nefarious people out there in the world trying to hurt women for their own sick agendas.”

I swallow a sip of my drink and look down at my hands. “I’ll be careful,” I say sadly. “I hate that you’re so worried. But I really need this time with Claire to make sure she knows I can still be a good friend to her and be in a relationship with you. She is family to me.”

Graham nods his head as if it makes sense to him as to my strong desire to have this time with her. We finish our meals and walk into the main lobby of the second building of HH. I haven’t seen this area yet. Graham has key cards to get through three doors. There are no metal detectors, and the security staff are just sprinkled throughout the area—instead of lined up near the door for the admittance of employees and visitors.

“What’s on the afternoon agenda?” I ask.

“I would like to show you some of the new design pieces we are working on. Maybe get your opinion?”

I stop and look up at him. His eyes are a rich shade of blue in the artificial light of the lobby. “My opinion? I don’t know anything about jewelry. It took me twenty-three years to get my ears pierced.”

His eyes travel to my ears, where my little studs from Ink Coat are situated. He nods his head, while trailing his fingers gently over my earrings.

The residual soreness causes me to flinch. I still cannot believe I went through with the very thing that I feared.

“I would still love to hear your thoughts on a few projects anyway.”

I swallow. I am not really sure how to feel. Nervous? Excited? Thankful that Graham respects me enough to value my opinion?

We continue walking until we are in the elevator car. He pushes some buttons on the number pad, and we ascend. Once we stop, we exit into an open floor plan. The layout is modern with massive industrial desks spaced around with huge fixtures coming down from the ceilings to offer ample lighting to each workspace. Several groups of workers are on stools, with sketchbooks and pencils in hand. A few stop and eye up Graham as he walks with me around some of the workstations.

It feels awkward—like we are interrupting some creativity by our mere presence.

I follow Graham hesitantly as he joins a group working on earring sketches. He sits down on a stool and pulls me to his side so I am leaning my bottom against his propped up knee. Even if I wanted a job here—even doing something menial—I would be pegged as the girl who got her job by spreading her legs for the boss. Everyone who witnesses Graham’s possessive touch on me would know that I would only be here as a convenience to him. And that is not how I want to feel for the long term.

---