Page 8 of His Christmas Gift

AUTUMN

One week passed and then another.

Every single day was some sort of thrilling hell. I felt guilty even calling it thrilling, but how else could I explain the constant experience of my heart racing and my face burning around Dean? He was doing everything in his power to get a reaction out of me, whether that was making me stay late for some dumb task or firmly suggesting that I call him “Sir”.

The problem was that I couldn’t just turn the other way and ignore him. Whether I liked it or not, he captured my attention and made me want to react. He got under my skin even worse now than he did back when we were in school. I didn’t know how he did it or why he was the one who could break my calm nature, but it was a battle for me every single day that I saw him.

Don’t get me started on when we accidentally brush hands when walking past each other. My entire body tingled, and I hated every reaction that I felt and gave. What got me was that back in school, I had a crush on him at the time. It was one that I didn’t take seriously, though. I doubted that he would date me because we were so different. Then, he and his friends started picking on me, and I knew for certain that we wouldn’t ever date.

My old and new feelings kept clashing, and there wasn’t anything that I could do about it but deal with it and try to keep my distance from him. I was afraid I would do something stupid in the heat of the moment because our moments together could be intense. I wished I could change that because he wasn’t the type of guy that I wanted to be with.

He was cocky and materialistic like any billionaire. Dollar signs were in his eyes, and he only went after the opportunities that would get him the most cash. He didn’t care about anything else, and it inflated his ego which he already had before he got rich.

I was completely different from him. I didn’t care about the money. I knew that I needed it to survive, but it wasn’t my end goal. I didn’t have to die rich. I just wanted to live happily and experience all that I could. That was why I moved to New York City. I needed a new adventure that would make me happy because it was hard to feel happy back at home.

Now, he was making it hard for me to even feel happy at work. I just felt conflicted and aggravated by everything, like I was stuck in the middle of chaos being pulled every which way. At least today was almost over with. I just hoped he didn’t try to keep me late again.

I gathered my things in my office quietly, hoping to sneak out of my office and past his before he could assign me anything else. Aunt Lisa handled most of the paperwork when she still owned this place. Now, Dean was pushing it all on me, and I didn’t like doing paperwork. I liked engaging with people and teaching them how to work their bodies properly. Sitting behind a desk all day was torture.

I quietly gripped my keys in my hand before edging toward my office door, being as quiet as I possibly could. I grabbed the door handle and slowly pulled the door open enough to slip through the crack. I didn’t make it far before I nearly ran into a firm body. My head snapped up as I stared at Dean, who gave me a knowing smirk.

“Going somewhere?” he asked me.

I clenched my teeth and stepped out into the hallway, pulling my door shut behind me.

“Yes, I’m going home for the night. I finished all of the paperwork that you sent to me this morning,” I told him firmly. I wasn’t going to let him push me around all the time. It wasn’t fair, and I was going to make sure that he knew that.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, not seeming convinced or willing to let me go free. He always figured out some way to get under my skin, and I doubted this time was an exception.

“Did you make copies of all the signed forms? I need them for my records,” Dean asked me.

I almost laughed. Almost. I had a feeling he would figure out some dumb, random way to keep me here. That wasn’t going to happen tonight, though. I was tired, and I worked hard all day. I was going home.

“I will make copies of them first thing in the morning,” I replied. “Or better yet, you can do them yourself. I’m sure your big billionaire brain can figure out how to work a copy machine.”

Before I could step around him, Dean planted his hand on my door next to my head, cutting me off. He leaned forward only an inch, but it felt like multiple since his face was so close to mine.

“Look, I like that sharp tongue of yours, but you need to remember that I’m still your boss,” Dean said in a low voice that hit me in the depths of my stomach. “Lose some of the attitude, or you’ll really see how well I can play this game.”

I should’ve nodded and apologized, but this was Dean Everard. He pushed me around in school, and he was trying to push me around now. I had it.

“Oh, you want me to watch my attitude? I dare you to actually do something about it if it bothers you so much,” I replied in the same tone, locking my eyes on his and refusing to back down. He had another thing coming if he thought that I was just going to roll over because he got all bossy with me.

Dean stared down at me with slightly narrowed eyes, the tension darkening and growing. It was nearly overwhelming. His eyes then started to slip downward toward my lips, and I swore that his body inched toward mine.

I couldn’t get myself to move as he slightly came closer. I should’ve pushed him back or something, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t that I was frozen. I just couldn’t convince myself to want to move. The dilemma was taken out of my hands when my phone suddenly rang, shattering the tense moment.

Dean stepped back from me, looking like he had just shaken himself out of a dream.

“I want the copies on my desk tomorrow morning,” he merely said before walking back into his office.

I managed a nod before drawing a breath in through my nose to steady myself. I couldn’t believe that actually happened. Truly, nothing really happened, but something almost did. It almost looked like he wanted to kiss me, but that didn’t make sense. We had no reason to kiss each other. We didn’t even really like each other.

When he shut his door, I pulled my phone out of the side pocket of my magenta leggings to see that my mother was calling. I grimaced, shaking my head as I tried to decide whether or not to answer the phone. If I didn’t answer the phone, she would get upset that I didn’t pick up. If I did pick up, there was no telling what she was going to complain about.

When it came to family, I was certainly not the closest with mine. My parents were wealthy, popular people in a small town. That was a recipe for disaster when they had only one child to raise and mold into the perfect daughter. They wanted me to rise to their standards, which were impossibly high.

My father owned a successful finance business in his earlier days that set him and my mother up for a good retirement. My mother seemed to be involved in everything in town, so everyone knew her and called on her for her opinion. Since they were both so connected, they wanted me to be a trophy child to make them look good.

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