Page 28 of Sassy Love
Something cracks and then she sways sideways. I pull my head out, finding the spike of her heel popping up from the carpet. Nadia clings to the machine. I try to steady her with a grip on her upper arm. My purchase on the lid slips and it slams down onto both of us.
“Dammit,” I grunt. Shouldering the machine off me, I manage to push it free and remove us from the deadly jaws of the ancient copier. Nadia leans on it, breathing heavily as she fixes her hair, managing to sweep toner over her neck and cheek.
I chuckle at her. For a second, mortification crosses her face, but a laugh bubbles free as she points to my face.
“What?” I swipe at my face.
“You have black, like all over you?—”
“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.” The hard words snap both of our attention to the doorway of the supply room. Lamont stands, hands on hips, with a scowl that could scare a war-ready Viking.
Sweet Jesus.
Nadia plucks her glasses from the shelf by the copier and slides them up her nose.
“The machine was jammed. Hold your fire,” I growl, taking a step toward her.
Both her brows rise as she looks at Nadia and spins on her heels.
Just great.
Today is one goddamn implosion after another.
“Sorry, Lawson.” Nadia hands me a Kleenex.
I wipe my face and toss it into the trash can. “It’s fine. I’ll handle her.”
I head for the door and make it one step out as a thought hits me. “Why can’t you ask Bob to help?”
Nadia’s face falls, her gaze hitting the floor. Her body tenses, and I’m hoping like hell the reason I’m guessing is not what she’s about to say.
“He makes me super uncomfortable. After the last time...”
“Last time?” I prompt, my HR intuition flaring back to life.
“I can’t talk about it,” she says, so damn quiet it takes me a while to understand the meaning.
Shit.
“Right, let me know if you need any help. Any time, okay?”
She nods, but her arms wrap around her body, as if she’s protecting herself against the very thought of needing to ask for help.
“You okay here?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave her alone. Jesus, is nowhere safe anymore? I all but stalk my way back to the corner office.
I cross the threshold to I find Lamont leaning on her desk, legs crossed, arms folded over her chest. “Done so soon?”
God above.
I grind my molars, not bothering to look at her as I sink into my chair and fling my laptop open with so much force it shunts backward on the desk.
“What, no foreplay for me?” She stalks to my desk and slams her palms on either side of my laptop, leaning down.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, biding my time, hoping the heat growing in my chest at her tone dissipates.
