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It’s a great cause; I should attend this year but attending alone, yet again, sounds… sad… pathetic… which I am.
In harmony, my brothers all rise to their feet and it’s Max who delivers their parting thoughts. “Come to the ball. Bring Arianna.”
“I’m not co—” I go to reply but Max cuts in.
“That’s an order and it’s nonnegotiable.”
And with that they exit my office leaving me with my mouth gaping open in shock at the size of their balls they’ve suddenly all grown around me.
I can’t ask her.
An uneasy feeling lines the pit of my stomach.
Every day I have tolerated her snarky-ass mouth and brat-like comments.
She’s testing my limits.
It’s not banter, it’s more than that. She’s flirting with me and it’s annoying as hell. Because I can’t do anything about it. Us.
She said she hated me the first night. Numerous times.
But now I feel like something has changed between us since she started working with me. Like she’s warming to me.
Donuts.
Coffee.
Takeout ordered before I’ve even asked, and it’s left on my desk.
She likes me.
I’m sure of it.
Maybe my brothers are right. Maybe I should take her.
Show her I’m not always a cantankerous bastard.
In fact, when it comes to her, I want to switch it off, but if I did, would everyone in the office see through me? Would I give myself away that I like her?
I more than like her. I want her.
And I want to unwrap her like a gift, discover everything about her and how she lost her family. It’s none of my business, and yet I have this deep need to unearth all her secrets.
The day she told me she lost her family in a car crash, it felt like my heart gave out. I felt the pain in her words, saw it etched over her face, and it gutted me when she cried.
If she ever lets me inside that fortress she’s built around her, I think she’d let me see her. The real Arianna. Not the one that pretends to be strong every minute of the goddamn day, but the one that is funny, kind, and helps everyone. She’s naturally beautiful inside and out.
Regardless of what she and I both say about nothing happening between us again, her constant stolen glances and body language tell me she likes me and wants to get to know me better. Because I feel the same way too.
The feeling between us has its own life form and it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore.
It’s unbearable being around her without touching her, threading my hand into her hair and crushing her lips with mine, which I’ve imagined doing over a billion times since she rolled her seat behind her desk.
How long can we resist each other?
And what if she says no to my invitation?
You told her you didn’t date staff, you arrogant bastard, of course she’ll say no.