Page 50 of Tempting Frankie
I blink, glancing at the clock on my computer. He's right. Where did the time go?
“Oh shit,” I mutter, running a hand through my tangled hair. “I didn't even realize. I got so caught up in this campaign brief and?—”
Alexander's smirk deepens, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “No need to apologize for hard work, Francesca. It's one of the many things I admire about you.”
The compliment sends a flush of warmth through me, and I duck my head to hide my smile. “Right, well, I should probably head out then. Let security lock up and all that.”
I start gathering my things, shoving papers haphazardly into my bag and fishing for my shoes under the desk. As I straighten up, I catch Alexander's gaze, dark and heated. The air between us is tense, and I can't help but lean in closer.
“I'll, um, see you at home?” I whisper, my voice barely audible even in the quiet office.
His eyes flash with desire, and for a moment I think he might grab me and kiss me senseless right here. But Alexander is nothing if not controlled. He takes a deliberate step back, his voice low and husky as he replies, “Goodnight, Miss DeLuca.”
The formal address, contrasted with the heat in his eyes, sends a shiver down my spine. I swallow hard, gathering the last shreds of my professionalism. “Goodnight, Mr. Steele.”
Chapter 17
Alexander
I'm at my wit's end. A whole goddamn month of my woman working here, and I'm ready to snap. Francesca waltzes in and out of the office like a ghost, always just out of reach. It's driving me fucking insane.
This morning, I watch her from my office window as her driver pulls into the parking garage and drops her off. Christ, I want to fucking drive to work with her. But no, she's too proud, too determined to make it on her own. It's infuriating and admirable all at once.
I've had enough, and it’s time to take matters into my own hands.
With a few taps on my phone, I send out a company-wide email.
Due to recent productivity gains, Steele Enterprises will be closed this Thursday and Friday. Enjoy the long weekend, everyone.
That’ll give me more than two fucking days with her where she’s not avoiding me for propriety’s sake.
I smirk, imagining the whoops of joy echoing through the office. But I only care about one person's reaction. I see Francesca’s brow furrow as she reads the email on her phone. Her eyes dart up, searching for me, as if she can see this far up.
My heart's pounding like I'm some lovesick teenager. Get it together, Steele. You're a grown-ass man, not some fumbling boy.
I give it an hour before I summon her to my office. When she walks in, full of a bratty ass attitude, I have to grip my desk to keep from reaching for her.
“Mr. Steele,” she says, coolly professional. “You wanted to see me?”
I lean back in my chair, letting my eyes roam over her. “Pack a bag, Francesca. We're going away for the weekend.”
Her eyes widen. That spark of disobedience I love to spank out of her, flaring to life. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. A cabin on the lake. Just you and me. No work, no distractions.”
She crosses her arms, hip cocked. “And what makes you think I don't have plans?”
I stand, moving around the desk until I'm right in front of her. Close enough to smell her sweet apple scent, to see the rapid pulse at her throat. “You don’t. Pack the bag or I’ll pack it for you.”
Her breath catches, and I see the war in her eyes. Want versus pride. Need versus independence. I wait, tension coiling in my gut.
Finally, she looks up at me, a hint of a smirk on those full lips. “Fine. But I'm driving.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Not a chance, baby. My car, my rules.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off with a finger to her lips.
“Get back to work,” I growl, dropping my hand. “Before Miranda starts ranting about why her best marketing associate is missing and being a grade A pain in my ass about where I found you. Because clearly, it wasn't anywhere you keep your ass in your seat.”
