Ryan froze, blinking slowly. I liked Ryan as my assistant because he didn’t bother hiding his thoughts. I didn’t have to worry about him lying because they were always written all over his face moments before they came pouring out of his mouth. It didn’t matter that I was his boss; he gave it to me straight.
“Don’t.” I held up my hand, halting any reprimand about unfairly taking someone else’s idea and passing it off. “Angie has more experience, and maybe once we’re done with our meetings, she can meet with Ms. Barrone to review everything, and Ms. Barrone can use it as a learning opportunity.”
As long as I didn’t have to see her every day. The Sequirus project was mine, and I couldn’t put myself close to her like that.
Ryan’s lips pursed, and despite my logical reasoning, guilt still closed in.
“Anything else?” I asked, brushing it off.
“No. That was the bulk of it. I’ll send you the meeting minutes before the end of the day.”
“Thank you. Please, send Ms. Barrone in after lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
I ignored the irritation coloring his tone and focused on the emails filling my inbox.
I worked through lunch to make up the missed morning, and soon after, a soft knock preambled Verana’s lithe form.
“You wanted to see me?” Her tone was cautious but hopeful. Obviously, Ryan hadn’t explained my plan. Maybe he had some misguided hope I’d change my mind.
“Come in. Sit. Please,” I added as an afterthought.
I watched her glide across the office in her black cropped pants and basic white blouse—pearls lining up perfectly with her sharp collarbone. She sat, and the opening of her shirt shifted. I swear, I almost also moved to see if I could get a glimpse of her cleavage. And that right there was all the reason I needed to stick to my decision to remove her from any possibility of this project.
Her eyes shifted from cautiously hopeful to guarded when they met my cold ones. Her whole demeanor went stiff, ready to defend her secrets.
“I heard you had some ideas at the meeting today.”
“I did.”
“Do you care to explain?” I asked slowly as if talking to a child. It was immature but added a splash of ice water between us.
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d been there. Another wild weekend?” she asked with false sweetness.
I clenched my jaw, wanting to watch her eat her words when I let her know I was with my ailing grandfather. Instead, I didn’t play the games I wanted to, cutting right to the chase.
“Fine. Pass on your plan to Ms. Donald, and my team will handle it.”
“I’m more than capable of growing this plan.”
“I’m sure you are.”
Her mouth opened and closed over my condescending smile, too flustered to form a rebuttal. Good.
Her jaw clamped shut, and she pulled her shoulders back. She brushed her hair behind her ear, lifting her chin proudly.
Exposing a deep mark where her neck met her shoulder. Almost like a bite.
Her tongue slicked across her ruby red lips, and as if in Deja vu, my mind flashed to the vixen in my arms doing exactly the same thing. The same shape. The same perfect cupid’s bow on top. The same jaw. The same dainty ears.
How the fuck had I missed it? How had I not seen it was her? Had I wanted her so bad that I assumed the similarities were all in my mind?
Was I making it up? Was I imagining it now?
No.
There was too much of the same.
She shifted again, and the mark mocked me—screamed at me that I was a blind fool.
Had she known it was me? Had she planned the whole thing? Was this more of her game?
“Mr. Rush—”
“What the hell are you playing at?” I asked. I didn’t stop to think or confirm. My mouth opened, and the need to know poured out.
Her mouth snapped shut, and she jerked back like I’d accused her of secretly being a mermaid. “What?”
“Your neck. The bite I remember giving you quite vividly.”
Her hand shot to the mark, and a flicker of heated recognition passed over her eyes, only to be lost to confusion.
I should’ve stopped. Thought this through more, but the memory of her in my arms pulsed through me, and I had to know if she was fucking with me this whole time. If I could reveal it on my time, then maybe it would dash whatever her plans were.
“Did you plan this whole thing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed, and her confusion shifted to anger. Ready to shove that I knew in her face, I reached inside my briefcase and pulled out her black lace panties I hadn’t been able to part with, slapping them on my desk between us.
Her eyes shot wide, and the color drained from her face. Her chest worked overtime, flashing the bite mark on her neck with each deep inhale. She looked around the room as if looking for an excuse to recover that I knew before her eyes slid to mine, wary.