Page 11 of Baby For My Bossy Fake Fiancé

My smile soon faded when I recalled my task. As tempting as it was to embellish the coffee with sugar, I couldn’t.

Because he liked it black. And I valued my job. Still, I made the cup half empty.

Once my business here was done, I trailed my steps to the elevator. And finally to his office.

Suddenly, my palms became sweaty. I had wasted a lot of time. But he deserved it, right?

I knocked once and pushed through the door when I got his response.

“Here’s your coffee, sir.” I placed the cup on the table. Glancing from his tousled hair to the glasses on his nose.

It made him look different. The good kind of different.

I watched his hand glide seamlessly through a file. He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his reading.

Since he hadn’t acknowledged my presence yet, I continued my inspection. Inspection, not gawking.

Trailing my eyes from his deadpan face, I reached his arms. They were thick, long, and veiny. Just like his di-

“What is this?” He finally acknowledged my presence with a blank stare. His lips seemed even plumper from this angle.

“Eh?”

Instead of dismissing me like usual, he looked at the cup. And frowned.

A deep frown creased the space between his perfect brows.

I finally understood what he was referring to. Still, I continued playing dumb.

“What is what?”

I smiled inwardly when his jaw ticked. “My cup is half empty.”

Well-done Sherlock.

“Oh,” I narrowed my eyes at the cup. “I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” There was no hint of remorse in my voice.

With a deep breath, he removed the glasses to stare. Really stare at me.

A ray of light from the window bounced off his irises. It was amazing the specks of silver it produced.

Everything about this moment was amazing. His face, his brows. And his frown.

It seemed my plan of frustration was succeeding. Maybe he’d finally realize I wasn’t the one for the job.

“You come six minutes later than the stipulated time. And with a half-empty cup,” he reiterated monotonously.

Yes, sir, I did.

By now, I was riding on the wings of my success. “I apologize. Perhaps I’d have made it in time if the brewing machine wasn’t so far away.” A hint of sarcasm slipped through my voice.

From how he readjusted himself, I knew it didn’t go unnoticed. “Are you trying to say something, Miss Walker?”

I straightened my head. “I don’t know, sir. I believe that is left to your discretion.”

There was silence before his nostrils flared. “Leave.”

His voice was commanding. Naturally, I was supposed to oblige. But I had rights too.

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