Page 8 of Bossy Grump's Secret

"Is it yours?" he asks with restrained annoyance.

"I thought it was for someone else, but honestly, I don't give a damn! You almost gave me a heart attack!" I place my hand on my chest in a not-so-bright effort to mellow its frantic thumping.

"There is about to be an actual arrest if you don't tell me what the hell you're doing here," he announces without missing a beat. He isn't playing.

When I realize that I'm at fault and he's not taking it as a joke, I lower my voice to meet apologetic standards. "Okay, I'm sorry. I got lost looking for an alternative route from the supplies room to the stairs."

"And somehow, here you are, my wardrobe open and you glancing feverishly through my collection. How can I be sure you are not stealing something?"

What the...

"Hey, that wardrobe was open before I got here. I touched nothing." I wave at the wardrobe set up with an array of expensive clothing - now that I can properly observe it. I'm not a sucker for identifying expensive things, but costly clothes have a look…especially when they're expensive.

"Wait, this is all yours?" I asked incredulously. "You are kidding me, right? I mean…look at these!" I pick up the watch cask and attempt to wave it at him, but he rushes to me in the next second and stops me.

"Hey, stop, okay. Just stop. Sheesh!"

No wonder the smell was so familiar. I'm close enough to catch a whiff of vanilla on his neck. So awkwardly close.

"This is your room," I say with conviction now.

He stares wide-eyed at me. "Well, what gave it away?" he hums since we're too close for him to talk with normal intensity.

It is a rhetorical question, but I have an answer to it. “Vanilla with a touch of musk depth. That's the room scent. That's your scent. It’s hard to miss.” I say without missing a beat, not caring if he thought I was a weirdo for recognizing his scent. Odd how I like it?

I’m too close to him to care. He's so close, I can feel his breath on me, and it gives me tingles down below. He moves his face closer to mine and angles it, giving me a better view of his approaching lips.

Is this really happening!?

I don’t fight it, no matter how hard my morality is screaming for me to stop him. He's more in tune with his morality and suddenly pulls away from me like he's been pushed.

"You're supposed to be on the ninth floor, right?" He widens his eyes at me. I hold his gaze for a while before stomping and leaving the room.

"You forgot your bleach!" he calls from inside. I stormed into the room, grabbed the bleach bottle without missing a beat, and left feeling both annoyed and unhappy.

"I don't get it, but..." That's all he says before I slam the door in his face.

I take a few steps and cursed, waiting for him to come out. He looks at me like I've grown five heads when he did.

"What are you still doing here?"

I give him a once-over, trying to decide if I should just call him an amnesiac or find a slicker way to say it.

"I'm pretty sure I mentioned I was lost." I'm not in the mood to draw verbal blood with a superior, although I find it incredibly difficult to restrain myself with this one.

Dylan's pissed-off expression eases up once he realizes I wasn't bullshitting. He found my pathetic state amusing and started laughing softly. I can't help but roll my eyes and smile at the same time.

“Are you usually this funny on purpose?” He shakes his head amidst the chuckles.

"I dunno," I say and shrug. "I just seem to put myself in precarious situations…and peril can get hilarious."

"Just follow me." He shakes his head and begins walking in the direction I came from before getting to his room. "And keep your eyes peeled. You're too old to keep getting lost."

It's been three days. Brace yourself, Ava.

He guides me through some corridors until I figure out where we are. I pass him and slam the stairs' door right before he walks in.

"I'm the one assigning your tasks, aren't I?" I hear him laugh from the stairs. I offer a grub apology. I'm not even sure he heard and continue my way. He should have just kissed me.

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