Page 17 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

VIVIAN

Coffee and revenge are the best pairing.

I can’t believe Knight stole the last spot in the showcase from me. Everyone else might think he’s just a boss trying to relate to his employees, but I know he saw me about to raise my hand to volunteer. It feels like it’s another way for him to try to exert some control over me at work.

Thankfully, the rest of the meeting went by quickly after everyone calmed down, and no one batted an eye when I rushed out of my seat.

Now I’m storming down the hallway downstairs, hauling ass to get back to my office so I can let off some steam.

My hands dig into the edges of my notebook as I mumble nonsense to myself.

My words are all the things I would have loved to say to Knight after he took my spot.

As mad as I am, some logical part of me reminds me how he’s my boss and I can’t go around cursing him out in front of his staff.

Also, how shitty would it look to tear him a new one when the secret softie announced his matching donation for the kids’ charity? The more I learn about him, the more sides I see of him. It’s like getting a new piece of a puzzle with an always-changing image.

A headache starts pulsing in my temples when I finally reach my office door.

At least I can rest here for a bit before I need to help the guys out for the bachelorette shows.

Their costumes for these shows mostly consist of skintight tank tops, jeans, or daisy duke shorts, so I end up helping them with makeup more than anything else.

Tossing my sketchbook onto my desk and planting myself into my chair, I’m about to start rummaging through my drawers to look for some headache medicine when I hear the door to my office begin to creep open.

Mr. Headache himself peeks his face in slowly, with a slight wince on his face that looks like he’s expecting something to be thrown at him. Honestly, after what he pulled in that meeting, he’s lucky I’m not tossing something at him.

“May I come in?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“Knight.” I sigh, giving up on trying to find pain relievers. Bracing my hands on the desk, I look back up to meet his eyes with tired ones of my own. “I have a really bad headache right now.”

“Okay,” he replies with only those two syllables. Then the door closes, and he’s gone in the blink of an eye.

Shrugging, I decide to leave it at that for now. I can’t do much or think correctly when my head is pounding, and arguing with Knight right now doesn’t sound as fun as it usually does.

I’m halfway through digging into the disaster of my backpack on the off chance that I might have something when I hear the door reopen. I glance up, thinking it’s one of the dancers at the door this time, but my eyes narrow in confusion when I see it’s Knight again.

This time, he doesn’t ask for permission to come in as he balances a bottle of water and a mug in one hand, using his other hand to lock the door behind him.

“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well,” Knight says, walking to the chair in front of my desk and sitting himself down like we’re two friends catching up over lunch and he didn’t have me riding his hand in the alleyway a few nights ago.

He reaches across my desk and sets down the mug of coffee and the water in front of me. If I didn’t know any better, this would almost feel like a peace offering. One that I’m not willing to accept, because I’m still upset at what he pulled earlier.

Cautiously, I lean forward, looking into the coffee mug, only to see that it’s suspiciously the perfect shade of light brown I like. My eyes dart from the coffee to the man in front of me and back.

“Does this have dulce de leche creamer, too?” Wrapping my hands around the warm mug feels like an instant hug.

“A ton of it.” Knight smirks.

“And how do you know how I prefer my coffee?” I raise an eyebrow, only for it to fall back down after taking a sip of the perfectly made drink. Of course, I know how he knows my coffee preferences, but he doesn’t know I’ve figured him out.

“I’m observant,” Knight replies curtly, and I have to stifle a laugh into my mug. That’s an understatement.

I should be kicking him out of my office for a ton of reasons, but as the warm coffee soothes my headache, it soothes my anger, too.

“And I’ve brought you this,” he comments, producing some headache relief medicine from his pocket.

My eyes can’t leave the sight of his hand around the bottle; he makes it look so tiny in his large grasp.

Even when he sets it down and retrieves his hands, my eyes are stuck on the visible veins of his forearms peeking out beneath his rolled sleeves. “I get headaches, too.”

Taking the bottle, I open it and shake out two pills. “Thank you. You’re still an asshole, though,” I add.

“I deserve that.” Knight nods in agreement. “Anyway,” he huffs, crossing his arms and staring at me. I’m confused when he doesn’t continue his sentence, and I notice how he stares at the medicine in my hand. “You should take those.” He wriggles his finger toward me.

If it wasn’t for my eyes feeling like they’ll pop out of my head, I would have rolled them at him. “Fine,” I mutter then gulp them down with a swig of coffee.

“I was told I had to come make an appointment with you for a fitting.” His tone sounds detached and way too fake for my liking. An unexpected hurt twists in my heart. He’s only here because he has to be. It’s not like he can perform that stolen spot if he has nothing to wear.

So, this is how he’s going to play it? He’s just going to ignore what happened between us, and we go back to being boss and employee? At this point, he shouldn’t be surprised when I accidentally prick him with my needle a few times.

No, I refuse to accept that. He can’t keep breaking boundaries between us and then pretend like nothing happened. I know there’s got to be a reason for it, and even though I won’t pry, I also won’t let whatever it is get in the way of what we can become.

If he’s okay with pushing boundaries, then so am I.

Taking out my phone, I open up my calendar. I’m sure mine looks a lot emptier than his does. I pretend to scroll for a few seconds until I find an opening.

“I can fit you on Thursday since tomorrow is my night off and I’ve got plans.” Without trying, I match his detached tone. I shrug casually before making a show of locking my phone and setting it face down. The way his stare lingers on my hand, still covering my phone, makes me feel triumphant.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” he asks, his voice deeper than before as his eyes flicker between the phone and me.

“I’ve got a date,” I answer, staring at him dead-on. A book club meeting totally counts as a date, right?

“I see,” he replies between gritted teeth. Shifting in his seat, he turns away and pretends to look at some coats hanging on the wall to his left.

“Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Adler?” I ask, breaking a couple of seconds of silence.

“No. This is all I need from you,” he replies without looking back at me. I swear I hear a frustrated growl leave his lips as he stands out of his seat. He hurries to the door, effectively ending our conversation.

“Thanks. See you on Thursday,” I dismiss, but I admire his retreating form nonetheless.

When Knight goes to open the door, we both startle, seeing Alek at the entrance about to reach for the handle.

“Oh, hey y’all,” he greets, not noticing the tension that has built up in the room. “Just came by to tell you we found some room in the showcase for you, Viv. Benny told me you wanted to work with him on something.”

“Aww, thanks, Alek.” I beam at him. How delicious that Knight’s plans to control me fall through the fucking roof.

Knight doesn’t say anything to either of us as he pushes past Alek and storms down the hallway.