“No, that’s not what I mean. I have drive and ambition. I put myself through school because I wanted to make something of my life. It’s just when changes strike, especially ones this life-altering, I can get a bit overwhelmed. I can handle the job, I just feel like I don’t deserve to be here.”
“You expect the worst from people.”
“I tend to.”
“That’s because everyone’s always let you down. Not all men are created equal, Rose. You’ll have to learn to trust just a little bit. Trust me.”
She swallowed, suddenly not getting enough air. Once again, she was a vulnerable six-year-old dying to be loved and accepted. The urge to belong was overpowering. It didn’t help that she often looked different from the kids at school. The foster mothers didn’t even attempt to work with her hair, so she always went to class a mess. Her skin, hair, and eyes darker. She never thought much of it until the kids started teasing her. That was the start of her self-esteem issues.
As a pre-teen, she started eating, packing on the pounds. It was a self-destructive spiral she had no way of stopping. She refused to accept a compliment, never trusted, and refused charity. Rose worked her ass off from that first day she escaped the foster-care system.
Even though she hadn’t reached her goals, she was well on her way to making something of her life. This new promotion was a real boost, but the sudden responsibility mixed with whispers and insults left her feeling unsure of her abilities.
“I trust no one, not even myself,” she quoted.
“Stalin.”
She smiled.
“I’m a history buff. We can’t change the future by forgetting the past. I’ve been busy the past few years during the growth of the company, but it’s a passion of mine.”
“You should always give your passions time in your life,” she said. “You should definitely get back to reading.”
He tilted his head to the side, the candlelight highlighting his chiseled features. God, he was handsome, pure masculinity. “What are your passions, Rose?”
She looked down, thinking, coming up empty. “Survival.”
He scoffed. “You’re not an animal. We’ll have to work on your focus. Think about what makes you happy and you’ll figure it out.”
What did make her happy? Doing things people said she’d never achieve? But, yes, mostly survival, which wasn’t much of a life. She rarely even entertained fantasies such as true love because she honestly didn’t know what love felt like.
The waitress appeared, and she hadn’t realized how close they’d gotten to each other, practically leaning over the table toward the center. They pulled apart and ordered their food. She was glad for the respite. She’d never been good at exploring her feelings. There was too much baggage locked in dark places.
They ate their appetizers, more silence than words. It seemed everyone in the restaurant was bubbly and light-hearted—not them. Was it her fault? Was she ruining her chance at being his assistant?
“Have you seen Elliot lately?
He cleaned the corner of his mouth with the cloth napkin, then focused on her with the intensity of the sun. “I don’t want to talk about Elliot.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reached across the small table, tilting her chin up. She had a tendency to look to the ground rather than make eye contact with people. “If we’re going to spend a lot of time together, you need to relax. Stop worrying about everything I think or do.”
“You’re my boss.”
He made a sound almost like a growl of disapproval. “Don’t think of me as your boss.”
“Okay. I’ll try,” she said.
What was she supposed to think of him as? She could imagine a few things in her fantasies. If only he thought of her in the sinful ways she thought of him, they could take this to a new level, a new beginning.
Daydreams didn’t get a woman anywhere. Only action and hard work made a difference.
Their meals came. Everything looked and smelled divine. The waitress offered one of their best bottles of red wine. Darius nodded, and their glasses were filled partway before the waitress left.
Every bite of food was like a mini orgasm. She’d never eaten so well in her life. “It’s so good,” she said.
He smiled, and she really felt like he enjoyed her company, which was a first. Most people tolerated her, nothing more. She certainly couldn’t trust enough to date men.
“Darius Blackwood?”
They both turned to the side at once. A tall woman with blonde hair in a perfectly messy bun and wearing a long silver dress gushed over Darius. She bent over, touching his shoulder, getting into his personal space. It made Rose squirm with a territorial claim she had no right feeling.
“Susan,” he said.
“I thought it was you, but I had to know for sure. It’s been ages.”
Susan didn’t even acknowledge Rose’s existence, but, then again, she was used to it.