“You’re their boss. Of course it’s your problem!”
I walked around my desk to stand right in front of her. She didn’t back away. She continued to glare up at me, her tiny freckled nose scrunched between her brows. I wondered if she believed she looked intimidating with her fists balled at her sides and her jaw clenched. From where I was standing a good foot and a half above her, I could confirm that she did not, in fact, look remotely fearsome.
“If you’re quitting, go ahead and leave. Good luck chasing the career of your dreams. What do the middle class say? If you love your work, you won’t work a day in your life?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I was right. You don’t deserve redemption. You’re a cruel, selfish, entitled man who is so out of touch with reality it’s painful to look at. You should be ashamed.”
“Are you leaving, or are you going to stand here and keep squawking?”
She put her hands on her hips and, to my surprise, started to laugh. With a tired sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head. “This is so embarrassing.”
“I agree.”
“For you, not for me.”
I prickled. This woman had successfully gotten under my skin more than my ex-wife ever managed to. I hadn’t reacted to anyone like this in a long time.
“You could have taken the things I said as constructive criticism, but instead you default to defensiveness,” she said before her tone and her expression softened. “I feel sorry for you, Jake.”
“Get out.”
“When was the last time you were ever vulnerable enough to let someone in to show you that your way isn’t the only way?”
“I said, leave,” I growled, moving closer to her.
We were almost nose to nose. Gabriella’s golden-brown eyes danced back and forth between mine. Her stare was penetrating, and as she held me in her gaze, it felt like she was staring into the depths of my soul and seeing all the things I’d fought so hard to bury. Could she see the young boy who had been so desperate to please an unpleasable father? Did she see how hollow I was? Did she see all the dark and twisted things I hated most about myself?
“You hate being uncomfortable, don’t you?” she whispered. “You hate losing control.”
“I hate when people think they understand me.”
“You’re not as complicated as you think, Jake Cassidy. Brooding, damaged, consumed by work because it feels safe.”
“Enough!”
Gabriella flinched and finally took a step back. She averted her gaze and her brow furrowed. “Shit. I’m sorry. That was… that was too far.”
I tugged at my suit jacket to smooth it out and realized I felt flustered for the first time in a long time. I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, so I stood there staring down at her, wondering why the hell I felt the sudden urge to reach out, pull her in, and taste her lip gloss. I hated her. I hated everything she’d said.
And yet.
I wanted her.
She looked incredible in her tight black outfit and red pumps. Her cleavage was pressed up high, the whiteness of her breasts a tantalization compared to the soft tan of the rest of her skin. Her lashes, long and dark, fluttered as she closed her eyes and appeared to be overcome with regret.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who was consumed by my own shadows.
“It’s fine,” I managed eventually, my voice sounding like gravel in my ears. “I understand your reasons, and I accept that I haven’t been the most hospitable employer.”
Her eyes flicked back up to me. “Was that an apology?”
“It’s as close to one as you’re going to get after what you just said to me.”
She licked her lips. “Fair enough.”
Neither of us spoke for a stretch of time. I was aware of seconds passing by, creeping toward half a minute. The air around us snapped and crackled with tension and chemistry. Surely, I was the only one feeling it. After how clear she’d made it that she hated my guts, there was no possible way Gabriella felt the heat between us the way I did.
She swallowed. “I’ll dry clean the wardrobe you purchased for me and return it before the end of the week.”