Page 9 of Never Fake Date the Financier
I try to ignore the heaviness in my limbs as I walk toward the chair. I’ve never felt so self-conscious walking before, so vulnerable to someone’s gaze. Although the room is cavernous, I feel claustrophobic with him. His presence is imposing, looming over me like an impending thunderstorm. It’s in the air, thick and heavy. Tension that refuses to release.
The leather chair is as cold against my skin as his gaze. I fold my hands in my lap as I meet his eyes. I’ve seen Adrian Thorne in magazine profiles and online, but they hardly hold a candle to the real thing. Dark eyes stare at me from under a darker brow ridge. His lips soften the brutal edge of his jawline. It’s hard to pretend his face isn’t igniting a fire in me. And I can’t ignore the addictive scent of sandalwood and spice and man that permeates the air in front of me. He could bottle it and sell it as the world’s most potent aphrodisiac.
And I’d be first in line…Ugh.
“Why are you here?” His voice slices through the air. My nipples pebble under my bra as goosebumps ripple across my skin. I’m both scared and aroused by this. Scaroused? Is that a thing? I don’t know. Everything about my interaction with this man is new territory for me. I don’t know what to feel or think. I’m just going along with it.
I swallow hard as I rub my arms softly. It feels like I walked into the wolf’s den, trading one predator for another, but this predator is of a different variety. He’s not trying to rip my clothes off. He’s dissecting me, wondering if I’m worthy to grace his presence. Ready to chew me up and spit me out.
“Why am I here? You invited me. You had a proposal. You’re the only one who can answer that question.”
A ghost of a smile on his lips.
He leans forward, and I lean backward, but it does nothing. His presence envelopes me like thick fog, and every breath I take has a bit of him in it.
“We’ll get to that. Why are you at BlackeThorne? What do you want, Ella?”
There’s not a shred of emotion in his voice. It’s flat, cold, and commanding.
“I was interviewing for a Production Assistant job. That’s what I want.”
At least, I did. My mind returns to the uncomfortable interview, and I make a pact with myself that I’m not leaving here without addressing it with Mr. Thorne.
“Production Assistant,” he repeats. There’s an edge of amusement in his voice as he leans back and raises a brow. He seems to be mulling something over, tapping his fingertips together as his eyes refocus on me.
“You seem surprised.”
There’s a hint of a smile, but it falls away. “There’s very little that surprises me,” he says, leaning forward again.
I lean back again, dragging my hands along the armrest, cooling my warm skin.
“The job’s yours,” he says. “But I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else you’re after. You don’t seem like the type to settle for something so… unambitious.”
I can’t help but feel the not-so-subtle dig in my chest. The rumors about him are true. His name isn’t the only prickly thing about him. But, he’s right. Partly. I do want something more than this job, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of being half-right.
“Not all of us have the same privilege as you,” I bite back. “Sometimes we peasants have to take on roles we don’t want in order to make progress on ourunambitiousdreams.”
I throw his word back at him, and when I see his jaw flex, I can’t help but feel some satisfaction. I’m not about to lie down and take what he’s dishing, even if it comes from lips as enticing as his.
“And what makes you think I want the job after today?” I say, plowing on. “If my interview with that mountain troll was any indication of how you run BlackeThorne, then I want no part of it.”
His hands tighten around his armrest, leather moaning under his grip. Thoughts of those hands all over me spring to mind, but I swallow them down. Never going to happen.
He releases his grip and repositions himself on his chair. “Eugene has been dealt with, and in a few days, he will no longer be employable.”
“But what’s to prevent someone else from taking his place?”
It makes me uneasy knowing that I probably wasn’t the first woman Eugene preyed on. He was too practiced, as though he was running through an entire routine, waiting for someone to take the bait.
“It’s in the works,” he says simply as he reaches into his pocket. “And I assure you, nothing like that will happen again.”
There’s something in his eyes that makes me believe him. In his voice. But it could be that gorgeous face of his or his self-assured demeanor that’s lowering my defenses. It’s hard not to get caught up in a man as confident and composed as him. He has the appearance of a movie star and the composure of a surgeon. And when I look at his hands again, I can’t help but have those same thoughts, the ones that add kindling to the fire building in my lower belly.
“And what is this job offer? A way to keep me quiet?”
He shakes his head as he toys with a large coin he retrieved from his pocket, rolling it over his knuckles back and forth. Dextrous fingers, too. I can’t help but wonder what other talents he might possess.
“Not at all,” he says as he flicks the coin, snatching it out of the air before it hits the desk. “I have no desire for you to be quiet.” Something dark and sensuous flashes in his eyes, and I feel it all over my body. My skin prickles at the sound of his words as though they skim across my skin.
