Page 56 of Intense
He turns slowly to me, eyes narrowing.
“I upset you?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
He chews his lip.
“Upset…” he whispers, like he’s tasting the word for the first time.
“Angry. Hurt. Pissed off. Inferior. Never good enough.”
His gaze darkens.
“You are good enough. You’re fucking fantastic at your job.”
I nod.
“I know. But you like to remind me that your rich ass is better than mine.”
He clears his throat. The click of the door lock is deafening.
“You have no idea who I am, Stephanie.”
His voice is sharp enough to cut.
“I’ve worked with you for nearly six years. I’ve seen how it’s gone down. What was it? Daddy’s money? Bought your way to the top?”
“That’s what you think?” His voice drops an octave.
I open my mouth and nothing comes out. I’m not even sure what I think of him. I don’t think he ever opens up or shows anyone the real him.
“This is what I mean. You never know when to shut up,” he mutters.
He storms forward. I back up until I hit the shelving unit, knocking a bottle of bleach to the floor.
“Rich boy doesn’t like it?” I tease.
He’s in my face now. Towering. Eyes burning. Jaw tight.
“You just can’t face the fact you aren’t as good as me.”
Ouch.
I press a hand to my chest.
“No. I’m pissed that you stole my job. That you walk around like you own the damn place. Covered in tattoos. Wearing your stupid black shirts and rings. You think any of us could get away with that? No. Because you’re special. And it’s bullshit. You’re just another cold, entitled asshole.”
I stare him down. Daring him to fight back.
A wicked grin spreads across his lips.
“You’re brave, you know that?”
His voice is a threat and a promise.
“Why?”
“Because next time you lock yourself in a room with me and talk like that—” He steps closer, breath hot against my ear.
