Page 55 of Miss Understood

I need to get out of this room—the walls are closing in. Luckily, Weston and his client decide on that first, and he stands.

“We’ll be in touch.” He holds out his hand, and I stand to take it. His eyes meet the coldness in mine, but we both know we’re fighting brick walls. As long as we can settle this out of court, I’ll consider it a win. Even though I know Weston won’t be happy, I’m pretty sure that’s going to happen. If they had proof of my client fucking around, no doubt they’d work on taking him for a lot more. But, fortunately for me, his secretary’s paternity test came up negative, and I’m going to milk that fact for all it’s worth.

“Damn, you’re good,” Mr. Hartford says after the room empties.

I don’t need to be reminded of that right now, so I keep my stare off him. “Just continue to do what we’ve agreed upon, and we’ll have this tied up in a pretty fucking bow in no time.”

He starts to say something else, but I don’t wait to hear it. It makes me sick just being in this room with the man. I’ve never felt like I was in the wrong profession, but right now something about what I’m doing is weighing on me.

Playing house with Jesse is messing with my head. Feelings are brewing under the surface, making everything muddled. I’m not soft. I don’t care about people who put themselves in the position to be hurt and then are surprised when it happens.

This heaviness is unfamiliar, and I don’t like it.

I leave Shepard in the conference room to find his own way out of the building and head for my office. I just need some space to clear my head. But when I reach my office door, I freeze.

There’s a ridiculous bouquet of white roses on my desk.

“Flowers?”

“He’s so sweet!” Charlene, my assistant, slides up beside me and sighs. “Who knew Mr. Davis had this side to him?! You must be so happy.”

That’s not exactly how I would put it. We agreed upon only doing the bare minimum to keep up appearances. Not flowers for no reason, sitting on my desk like Jesse is marking me as his territory. But then again, we agreed upon a lot of things we aren’t holding the line on.

Gifts, sleeping arrangements, sex.

I’m the queen of setting boundaries because I know what happens when you cross them—not one damn good thing. Yet here I am, staring at roses. Realizing it’s time to get this train back on its tracks before we crash and burn.

Storming across the office, I feel the thundercloud growling overhead. Lighting striking just before the rain. Jesse is in his office when I storm in and close the door behind me.

A smile stretches his face. And what a beautiful smile it is, reaching all the way to his eyes and almost killing my resolve. But his eyebrows pinch as he reads my face, and it brings him to his feet.

“Bad day?” he asks.

“I got your flowers.”

Jesse nods, looking a little confused, and I guess I can’t blame him. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“Because we didn’t agree to this.” I toss my hands up, and I know I’m losing my grip on the situation.

“Maybe you should back up, because I’m a little lost right now. Where is this coming from?” The patience in Jesse’s voice only sets me more on edge.

“This is all starting to feel a little too cozy, don’t you think? I mean, we threw the sex thing out the window almost immediately, but that’s not a surprise—look at you.” I wave my arm up and down in appreciation of his body. “But that’s not the problem. We’re sleeping together. Actually sleeping. And shopping. And giving flowers. This isn’t a real relationship, but you’re starting to act like it.”

“What if I want it to be?”

His words turn whatever I’m thinking to cotton in my throat. Did he really just say what I think he said? We had an agreement.

“You don’t do relationships. Neither do I,” I tell him. For good reason. I don’t want a man dictating what I do with my life, money, or time.

Especially my boss.

Jesse rounds his desk and starts walking toward me. Each step chips away at the shield I walked in here with. Then he’s in front of me, so close I have to look up to meet those big brown eyes. His hand reaches out for mine, and I might as well melt into a puddle on the floor.

“I don’t usually do relationships,” he says, pulling me closer against his chest. “And I know how this started, Luce. Trust me, I’ve been swimming in the deep end trying to figure this out just as much as you have. But you’re right. What we said this was and what it’s turning into are two different things. And you know what I’ve decided? I’m okay with that.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Yes.” He grazes his thumb against my chin.

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