Page 3 of Devoted (Love and Burlesque #2)

CHAPTER THREE

VIVIAN

Fabric scissors are for FAbrIC.

C oming in hot, I give one quick courtesy knock on the office door before I open it and build the courage to barge inside. My shoulders are squared and my core is braced for impact like I’m about to get into a fistfight. I know that’s not going to be the case, but my anxiety doesn’t know that.

Once in, I train my eyes on the desk on the opposite side of the room, and I open my mouth to speak, only to find Evelyn staring at me like there’s a third eye on my forehead.

“Have you lost your damn mind, girl?” the general manager asks—sounding more like a military general than a club manager at the moment—as she abandons the computer keyboard to cross her arms instead, waiting for my answer.

I love Evelyn. She takes no shit from anyone, but it’s very obvious how much she cares for all the workers here.

Last week, someone had the benches backstage reupholstered after the guys had been complaining about the unforgiving surface of the wood.

She doesn’t always like taking credit for her good deeds, but I was there when the guys were talking about it, and I was there to spot Evelyn listening in at the stage’s entrance.

“Shoot, sorry, Evelyn. I thought you were Knight,” I explain. “But to answer your question, yes, I’ve probably lost my mind.” A small chuckle passes my lips at the ridiculousness of it all. I can have a simple conversation with my boss without having these big feelings, right?

“Might be too early to say that, sugar.” Evelyn smirks at me briefly and turns back to the work on her computer. I’ll take that as the dismissal it is. It was rude as fuck of me to barge in like that.

I mutter one more apology as I back out of the office, only to see her trying to hold back a laugh by biting her lips between her teeth. Her eyes roll off the screen and to me only for a moment as I’m beginning to shut the door.

“Last I saw, he was in your office. Now, close my damn door and let me get to these accounts.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

It’s bad enough that he’s demanding to control how others speak and interact with me, but now he’s doing it from my goddamn office? I swear, if that hot jerk has touched my fabric scissors, I’m going to use them on him. Well , more like use them on his clothes—I probably shouldn’t stab my boss.

I keep that in mind when I reach my little office, which doubles as a costume closet.

In the same move and demeanor as before, I knock and swing open the door to my office and come face-to-face with Knight Adler.

Literally face-to-face.

He must have been heading toward the door to exit at the same time I came in like a woman on a mission. The door would have slammed him in the face if he had been a few inches closer.

Oh no, that would have been terrible .

“Why are the guys calling me Ms. Vivian?” I blurt out, wanting to get my question answered so badly that I do nothing to back away from the tall man crowding me. I guess I’m the one technically crowding him since I ran in here.

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” he asks with sarcasm lining his voice.

Knight crosses his arms as he refuses to back down as well.

He dares to be in a white dress shirt with a messy black tie and his sleeves rolled up.

It would be a lot easier to keep things professional if he didn’t look like such a goddamn snack.

Then again, given his sarcastic reply, I don’t think he’s too concerned about staying professional, either.

Fuck it. That’s it. If we’re going to have an all-out conversation, then I’m game. But I’d prefer not to let everyone in the club hear it, so I take a quick moment to shut the door behind me, keeping my eyes on him the entire time.

Once the door clicks shut, I bring up my arms to mirror his stance as I begin.

“ Vivian is my name. Vivian is what I prefer to be called. I also prefer to have a say in how people get to interact with me at work. I understand the guys, just like me, are your employees, but they’re my coworkers.

Ones I have to see every day. And I would like them to feel comfortable around me.

Not threatened into stupid niceties.” I try my best to keep my tone level, but I already feel my blood heating up when his face remains impassive through my speech.

A small upward flick of his mustache only barely hides the sneer forming on his lip.

“Do you think flirting at work is acceptable? Because what I’ve seen from them and you is a whole lot of joking, smiling, and touching.” I don’t know what it is in his tone, but it just bothers me.

So what if the guys and I kid and laugh together at work? I’m literally related to two of them and have known some of the others for years. They’re like family to me, too.

“Flirting? Do you mean I’m flirting with them as I take their measurements and sew their clothing? Like it’s my job?” I ask incredulously.

His eyes narrow as he refuses to back down. In fact, he bends at the waist to get even further in my face.

“It is unbecoming, Ms. Vivian .” He punctuates my annoyingly formal name with two nods of his head.

“Excuse me?” I snap my head back. My arms are unable to stay crossed against my body; they’re in tight fists against my hips instead. Maybe it’s not too late to turn this into a fistfight, after all.

“No, you’ll have to excuse me .” Knight grabs at the large portfolio bag hanging off his side and rushes to the door like he can’t wait to get away from me.

“This isn’t over, Knight.”

I follow him a few steps out of my office and watch him stomp down the hall. Well, fuck, I was only joking about the stick up his ass, but now it really seems like he has something against me.

As annoyed and enraged as I am with his attitude, there’s a little part of me that likes this.

I’m sure there’s something wrongly crossed in my brain for me to still find this guy attractive after how he spoke to me.

What’s extra concerning is the urge I get to keep arguing with him.

Yeah, there’s something fucked up there in my mind.

“And you better not have touched my scissors!” I yell out as he turns the corner to exit the hallway.

Pacing in front of my desk, I let out a frustrated growl and run my hands down my face. Through the slats of my fingers, I stare at my desk and notice Knight’s forgotten jacket resting on the back of my chair.

No one has to know how it ended up around my shoulders for the rest of the night.