Page 26 of Desserts for Stressed People

My head jerks back. Why does he keep interrupting me? If he’s not interested in the answer, he might as well not ask the question. “It’ll take me a couple of days, I believe. However—”

“Fine. Ask Marina to introduce you to the team. They’ll clear all doubts.” He sits at his desk, focusing on the screen of his computer. When I don’t move, he sighs. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes. The invitations should have been sent a month ago, but they haven’t been selected yet.”

His eyes flip to his matte black watch. “I’m aware.”

“We should start with that. Also, the locations I’ve seen—”

“Start with whatever you think it’s best.”

My heart throbs in my ears, the muscles of my neck stiffening. I beg my lips to shut, my tongue to stay still, but the words come out in a rush. “Excuse me, I wasn’t done talking.”

His eyes shoot to my face, and I am surprised I don’t explode right here on the spot. His glare could freeze the sun.

Stretching backward, he draws in a deep breath. “On this floor, we do things a little differently than what you’re used to. We aren’t…”—he opens up his hands—“artists.”

Artists. Why does it sound like an insult? We’re not artists either—not that there’d be anything wrong with that. And sure, we mostly focus on design, on video editing and graphic work, but we’re hardly drawing stick figures with crayons, which is what the wordartistssounds like from his beautiful, rosy lips.

I cross my arms, a deep scowl on my face. “Well, on the fourth floor, we believe in each other’s contribution. It looks like you need me, not the other way around. I’m more than happy to go back to my floor ofartists, if that’s what you want. Or you can let me speak.”

He freezes for a few seconds, and in the glimmer in his eyes, there’s a glimpse of the man I’ve met online. “Your name?”

Oh, shit.What if he connects the dots? Why did I let Emma talk me into doing something poetic?

When I hesitate, his brows rise. “Did you forget?”

“My name’s Heaven.”

“Heaven.”

“Yes, Heaven.”

His eyes squint as if he’s considering something, and there’s sweat dripping all the way to my ass. After the longest silence ever, he waves his left hand. “Speak.”

I take a moment to breathe, and noticing the way he exhales, I force the words out. “Three of the locations aren’t suitable for the event. I’d explain the reasons, but I’m sure the middle of my sentence would end up interrupting the beginning of yours.”

His lips quirk up for the briefest of moments. There’s still a lump stuck in my throat, but it looks like he’s enjoying my comebacks, and it makes my chest inflate with pride.

“How about you send me an email about it? I can’t interrupt written text.” When I nod, he does too. “Anything else?” he asks.

“No. I’ll have a full report for you as soon as I’ve gotten through the rest of the materials.”

“Great,” he says, keeping his dark, hooded eyes on me.

It’s so unsettling to see him move. For days, I’ve been staring at pictures of him, and now he’s in front of me. He’s horrible, true. But his eyes are even more magnetic than they look in pictures, and his hair looks softer than wool.

When he squints, I know he’s wondering why I haven’t left yet. So I turn around and walk away, my throat burning with annoyance and a few unsaid curse words.

* * *

“Wait a second.”Emma chuckles while tearing a bite off a sandwich from the deli across the street. “You’ve catfished a guy, and you’ve been texting for a couple of days.” Her smile widens. “You’ve watched a movie together, and last night you blindly trusted him, getting into a place where he could have potentially murdered you.” She dips her chin. “Shane Hassholm.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

She bursts out laughing, not stopping even as I hit her shin with the side of my shoe. “Emma, I need help. What the hell do I do?”

“What do you mean?! There’s obviously a spark between the two of you. Ghost him as Nevaeh, and invite him out as yourself.”