Page 6 of Three More Shots
For the first time in a long time, she questions me, which is fine. I don’t mind being challenged by her, especially when I sense a fierce protectiveness in her hesitation. She must like Corinne a hell of a lot to want to keep her from me.
“It’ll be fine. I’ll be on my best behavior.”
A tsk rattling with complete skepticism erupts in her throat as she shakes her head. I don’t care if she doesn’t believe me. Or doesn’t fear me. Even though she should. Everyone else does. Wary eyes bore into me as she marches to her desk and punches in the numbers on her phone. I can feel her suspicion piercing sharper than daggers in my back all the way to my chair.
Well aware I don’t give a damn about anything more than seeing Corinne, I ignore the document on my screen and the messages on my phone. I only care about her.
“Mr. Dominico?”
Luckily, I’m sitting down, so she doesn’t see the jerk of my cock from her enticing voice and beautiful face filling my view. Fuck me if she’s not breathtaking. So damn innocent in a simple white blouse and flowy red skirt with only her delicate ankles visible above her beige heels.
Jesus.I swear I can taste that sweet skin from here and feel the silkiness of her thick, wavy hair that’s just long enough to brush over her shoulders as she swallows.
“Call me Steele.”
She nods deferentially. “Of course, Steele. Is there something you need me to change for your trip? Or if there’s an error, I’m happy to correct it.”
The confidence she tries to imbue in her voice comes off pretty well, except for the tremble of her lower lip, which she sucks into her mouth when she realizes I’ve caught her apprehension. “Sit down.”
I stand, motioning toward the square black conference table in the corner, and she pales even more. I’m too damn terse with her. She’s not one of my men or the kind of woman I normally fuck. Racing around my desk, I pull out one of the sleek gray chairs and try to fucking remember my manners, which I haven’t used in too damn long. “I mean, no. It’s nothing like that.”
Wide blue eyes meet mine. I guess she’s not used to the courtesy either. My heart rate picks up from her murmured thanks. I could get used to her whisper. In my ear. In my bed. In my everywhere.
Elegant fingers slide down her thighs, smoothing the scarlet fabric, bracing herself for the worst. Anticipating something or someone she’ll have to battle.
“That was you at Mocha Madness on Saturday?”
“Yes.”
She glances at me, yet her gaze quickly returns to her shaking hands, folded demurely in her lap. Like a lady. I need to remember she’s a lady.
“You were with your daughter.”
“Yes.”
Well, this is going even more terrible than I imagined. “Ainsley.”
That one word ignites the fire in her, and her head flies up. Fuck, she’s glorious in her fury. Even if the ire’s directed at me in a way I don’t want. I’ll change that soon. Very soon.
“I’m sorry if she bothered you. She can’t help it.”
Not anger. Fear. The ruffle of her blouse flutters across her perfect breasts from her shuddering so hard. I’ve scared her. Fuck.I need to fix this. Fast.
"She doesn’t do well in public. We don’t go out very often, and I thought it wouldn’t be crowded yet since it was so early. And, I–”
“It’s okay. This isn’t about that.”
Panic still pulses in her small body, but at least she stops attempting to justify herself. She actually looks directly at me too. We’re making progress, although I fucking hate the imploring expression for me to accept her reasons when she owes no one any explanation, including me.
“I had your file pulled and spoke to Rick Stevenson about you. He says you’re an excellent employee, and they’d promote you if you were able to do what they needed for the position.”
Faye would be proud of me for my compliment, plus understanding and compassion for her situation. She was totally wrong that I would fuck this up.
“You’re firing me?”
Or not.
God damn it. Shining eyes clench shut as her voice cracks. She’s crying. I’ve made her fucking cry.
