Page 2 of Don't Bite The Boss
I hold the phone away from my ear as she goes ballistic.
I don’t know the answers to her questions. I don’t know why he was in my office, or where he is now, or why he smelled so irresistible to me. All I know is that she is on her way, and she is beyond angry.
“Maybe I better run to the airport now,” I muse to my empty office as she hangs up, “after all, I’m flying out to Italy tomorrow for work anyway.”
Rising, I walk to the window and consider the twinkling lights of the city below, talking to myself, as I often do.
“Eventually, she will see the reasoning behind me turning her husband into a vampire. By the time I return from the Continent, she will be over it, and he will be more durable. I won’t want him anymore, no matter how good he smelled as a human.” I chew my nail in consternation, “and if I stay here, she might just rip my face off before I go,” I add quietly to the city below.
Deciding, yes, I will scarper while I can, I grab my bag just as the door slams open and Christopher strides in again, rubbing his shoulder and shaking his head.
“Do you always abuse and attempt to bite your clients?” he frowns at me.
I ignore his words, and the way my body responds to his presence in my office, something I will no doubt have to ponder and continue to feel guilty about later, as I concentrate on the big picture.
“Look, Serena’s on her way. She will walk you through all the changes you are going to go through. I have to leave.” I pick up my bag and move to stride past him, catching my breath as I smell his blood again.
“Why do you smell so fucking good?” I mutter, dropping my bag, my fangs extending once more, of their own accord.
“Because I’m not who you think I am, perhaps?” he shrugs, “and I wouldn’t try biting me again if I were you. I came prepared.”
“Prepared?” I whisper, as my fingers curl into claws, every part of my body attuned to the pulse I see beating in the side of his neck.
“Yes, my brother already told me what you are. And it seems he knows you better than you think.”
“Your brother?
“Christopher Berrington. The tall, dark, extremely handsome, arrogant oil magnate you so lovingly refer to asasshole.”
“I’m looking at him,” I frown, moving quickly to the other side of the room to stand under the fresh air flowing from the air conditioner, in an attempt dilute his scent.
“No,” he chuckles, “you are looking at his identical twin.”
“Get the fuck out of here!” I exclaim.
“Again?”
“No,” I hold up my hand, spluttering out a laugh, “I mean, wow, just,” I walk back, holding my breath as I circle him, studying him top to toe. “You are the spitting image, except,” I breathe in again and quickly zip back behind the safety of my desk.
“Except apparently, I smell better,” he grins, ruefully.
“I bit you,” I whisper, as my fingers grip the timber of my desk and I desperately try not to obey my body’s desire to launch myself across the furniture again and drain him.
“No, actually, you bit into my silver, fang-proof vest, which my paranoid older brother expressly ordered me to don under my clothes before coming to this city.”
“Older?”
“By ten minutes,” he chuckles.
“You can’t be here,” I say in one long, expelled breath.
“But haven’t we just established....?” he begins.
“Get out,” I hiss, “while you still can.”
“For Christ’s sake,” he sighs, shaking his head and giving me one last ‘you are clearly crazy’ look, before slipping his hands back into his pockets, casually, as though there was not a blood-sucking maniac just a heartbeat away from murdering him, and sauntering out.
As the door shuts quietly behind him, I lay my head down on my desk and take in deep gulps of air, willing my fangs to retract.
