Page 32 of Voice to Raise
“Yeah, his mom. And she sort of considers herself my mom, and since pissing off my mom is the last thing I’d ever want to do, I’m here to apologize to you as well.”
“That’s…big of you.”
“Mama Murthi is a force to be reckoned with. If I want to continue eating samosas and French fries at her table, then I do what I’m told.”
The image of samosas with French fries slammed into my mind, and my stomach rumbled.
Malik cocked his head.
“Skipped breakfast. I had a conference call with some donors back east. Crazy early for me, but midmorning for them. They’re making the contributions, so they get to set the meeting times.”
“Not if that means you’re skipping meals.”
“Truly, I meant to get up earlier to make myself some food. But I was queasy and hadn’t slept well last night—”
“Because of me?”
I squinted.
“Because I ruined the council meeting for you? I mean, they voted for the development you went to support, so I don’t think you should be entirely pissed.”
I glared.
He stood taller. Still a few inches shorter than me, but from this distance, our gazes were almost level.
“Your behavior—” Then, “Hey!.”
He had my arm and was propelling me through the door to the outer offices. “We can call for delivery, or we can go out. I know this great café around the corner.”
“The Garden Strathcona?”
“Yep. Let’s go.”
“I’ll go voluntarily if you’ll release me.”
He met my gaze. “I think you like when I touch you.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Memories from last night—which I’d conveniently forgotten—raced back to my mind. My cock, previously uninterested, perked up at his somewhat domineering tone.This isn’t like you—you don’t like to be bossed around.
Depends who’s doing the bossing.
Well…that was possibly true. I’d never met someone so…magnetic as Malik. Part of me was willing to submit to anything just to see how far he’d take things. “The Garden Strathcona’s a bit on the expensive side.”
“I can afford it. Let’s go.” He released my arm, then gestured me to head out.
I dropped my messenger bag—full of papers, but nothing else—onto my desk. Then I followed him.
Malik was smiling at Bonnie. “What can I get you?”
My assistant beamed. “I’d love a kale Caesar salad. How lovely of you to offer.”
I rolled my eyes, but ensured no one saw me. For Malik’s wallet’s sake, I was glad Bonnie was the only one in the office today.
He caught sight of me and gestured for me to follow.
I waved to Bonnie and hustled to keep up. Thank God I hadn’t removed my coat, because the cold wind coming in off Coal Harbor was pretty brutal. The gray clouds overhead promised rain, and my head was giving off the super-early warning signals that, if I wasn’t careful, I might get hit with a migraine. “Are we eating at the restaurant or back at the office?”
Malik, who’d been striding down East Pender Street toward Hawkes Avenue, slowed his pace. “I figured we could do takeout and eat in your office. You seem to like to be in control—of some things—and your office gives you that power.” With those simple words, he continued the trek—turning north on Hawkes and heading toward Hastings Street.
