Page 60 of By A Thread
“Great! Thanks,” Ally said, tossing the bag on my desk. “I’ll tell you what my problem is. His name is Dominic Russo, and he’s a pain in my ass.”
“I’m Harry, by the way,” my idiot friend piped up. He was far too amused for my liking.
“No introductions,” I said. “Ms. Morales won’t be with us much longer. It’s only a matter of time before my mother comes to her senses and fires her since she seems incapable of behaving professionally.”
Ally flipped me off.
I crossed my arms and looked bored. “Are you through?”
She jabbed a finger at the bag then at me. “Make sure you know what you’re doing because this means war.”
“Don’t start something you can’t win,” I warned her quietly.
I get it. I’m an asshole. I don’t want her around. But I can’t leave her alone. Deal with it.It was worth the five figures those vests cost just to see her annoyed. Besides. I liked vests.
“I have no intention of losing, Charming.” She turned her back on me, and I wanted to punch myself in the face for instantly noticing how well those fucking fire engine pants accentuated the curves of her ass. “Harry, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Ally,” she said.
“Very nice to meet you, Ally,” Harry said, all charm. He stood and offered his hand.
I clenched my jaw. He could touch her, and it meant nothing.
I, on the other hand, didn’t trust myself to survive even basic contact. Ally was only safe, my soul was only safe, as long as I didn’t touch her.
“Go away, Maleficent.”
She turned her attention back to me, and I hated the relief I felt.
“Just remember, Dom. You started it.”
She walked out, and Harry and I watched her go.
“Who was that?” he demanded.
“No one. Let’s go.”
* * *
“Why areyou not chasing that woman around with a diamond ring?” Harry demanded, the second the server walked away from our table.
“What woman?” I asked, pretending like I didn’t know exactly who he was talking about.
“The Maleficent to your Charming. I thought you were gonna crack a filling or two.”
“She’s not my type,” I said. “How’s the debt market report looking?”
“Uh-uh,” he said, shaking his head and ignoring my redirection. “Nope. No subject change. You and Ally. What’s the story?”
“There’s no story,” I insisted, unrolling my silverware from the napkin to give me something to do.
Harry was silent, and I looked up. He was sniffing the air. “You smell that?” he asked.
I knew where this was going. “I do not.”
“I do. It’s strong. Here. Let me waft it toward you,” he said, flicking his hands at me. “That’s the smell of bullshit.”
“It’s nothing. She’s just an admin at work. My mother hired her.”
“The fashion icon and editor-in-chief Dalessandra Russo does not hire admins,” he pointed out.
