Page 10 of The Innovator

“You mean your cubicle?” He stood up as well.

I didn’t like his condescending tone. “Just because it’s not a fancy office doesn’t mean I can’t get work done. If you must know, it’s the everyday people who do the simple work that allows people like you”—I jabbed a finger in his direction—“to sit back and make those multimillion-dollar deals.” I inhaled, remembering my early corporate days working for high-end fashion brands before working for LaRue. I wanted outside experience and not the privileged one my family could offer me. I didn’t want people to look at me and say I got the job because of my family. I had proved my worth.

“Does it hurt?” I asked him.

The smirk on his face turned into confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Does your ass hurt? Because it seems like you have a massive stick up there.”

His lips twisted into a half smile. “I didn’t know you’d been wondering about my ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “Are we done? Because I need to get back to my ‘cubicle’ to attend to other matters that have nothing to do with egotistical men.”

He slid his ass onto the edge of the table, crossed his arms, and gave me an impassive look that could be described as frigid—so cold that it lacked emotion. “No, we’re not done. We’re just getting started. Tell me, what do you know about municipal work? What’s your experience with architecture?”

Was he testing me? I placed the documents down on the table, slid onto the edge of the table across from him, and crossed my arms as well. If I were an outsider looking in, I’d consider this image of us sitting at the conference table oddly comical. But I was too angry at the moment to care.

“Are you interviewing me for a job?”

“It’s a simple question that a dedicated city employee should have no problem answering. I’d like to know who I’ll be working with. Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Chapelle?”

“Municipal work pays shit. It takes a village to help the city function properly. ‘Architecture is how the person places herself in the space. Fashion is about how you place the object on the person.’ That’s a quote from Zaha Hadid, an architect and a fashion designer.” I narrowed my eyes. “Anything else, Mr. Wu?”

I wasn’t sure if that answered his question, but I didn’t care.

“I’m thinking.” Grayson smiled the way a wolf would smile at its prey, and a tingle zipped down my spine.

Intrigue gleamed in his eyes as though he wanted to continue taunting his prey, to extend its life longer for his sick game. Maybe he wanted to know if the prey dared to bite back.

He didn’t know what I was capable of.

CHAPTERFOUR

GRAYSON

I’d never been turned on by an argument until today. Natalie had somehow irritated and aroused me at the same time, and that confused me. I didn’t need confusion. My life was already cobwebbed with issues.

I should let her get back to her cubicle, but I wanted to see how far I could push her.

You’re a sick man.

I didn’t disagree, but I was too intrigued by this woman.

“Is Antarctica your favorite continent?” she asked.

She had a knack for throwing me off the rails with her odd questions. Perhaps that was another reason I wanted to keep chatting. She could steer my mind away from the various issues cluttering my brain.

“It has interesting ice formations that inspire me. Why?”

“That explains it.” She let out a halfhearted laugh. “You look like a cold-blooded person. The frigid terrain suits you.”

The more our conversation—or rather disagreement or whatever it was—carried on, the more she aroused me.Was this a new syndrome I’d developed? Stress could throw the psyche from its equilibrium. Was I experiencing that? How else would I explain my swelling cock throbbing for release?

Uncrossing my arms, I reached for the folder on my desk to block the bulge from view. How would she react if she saw what she did to me? But she was too angry to look anywhere but in my eyes.

“I know where you like to hang out—the equator? I can practically see steam coming out of your ears,” I said, giving her my best frigid stare.

She flung her arms out, pointing to a corner in the room where a potted plant stood. “Why don’t you go hang out right over there inthatcorner?” She scowled. “It’ll thaw out your cold blood.”

---