Page 14 of Resisting the Temptation (Broken Shelves #3)

Ben

T he next day, before Emma comes in to work, Alex and Drew invade my office, plopping down in the two chairs across from my desk. “What do you two want?” I snap.

“Wow, someone put extra asshole powder in your coffee today,” Alex teases, and I shoot him a withering glare.

Unfortunately, they know me well enough to not be afraid of me, which only upsets me more because I want to be left the hell alone before I spend the day surrounded by Emma’s presence.

“Just tell me why you’re here, please. I’d like to get this bid placed before the end of the day so I can enjoy my weekend and not worry about work.”

Drew scoffs. “Please, Ben, you always worry about work. ”

“Anyway,” Alex says before I can respond, “we’re both curious about why you were an asshole to Emma yesterday after she finally got us a job with Allridge.”

“I don’t think she earned it.” Not a total lie, but it’s not the whole truth. “I think Allridge took one look at her and liked what he saw.”

Drew’s brows furrow. “I honestly don’t think he’d give a big project to someone based on looks.”

“Rossi Construction has a good reputation for quality work,” I grunt.

“But why would he give the job to Emma and not you?” Alex asks.

“Because she’s a pretty face, obviously,” I scoff.

“Tell me what you really think of me, Ben,” Emma says from the hallway, which makes Alex and Drew whip around in their seats, and my head snaps up to meet stormy blue eyes filled with undiluted rage.

“Emma, I—”

“Save it,” she cuts me off with a raised hand, then looks at Alex and Drew.

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you guys aren’t exactly quiet.

I don’t know why Derek decided to work with me and not one of you because you’re all extremely good at your jobs, but I’m not going to turn this offer down to appease some male ego.

All I can do is work my ass off and prove I was the right pick for the job.

If you have a problem with that, you can talk to him yourself. ”

With that, she storms into her office, shuts the door, and turns the glass opaque. An obvious “fuck off” to us.

Alex and Drew turn back around in their chairs and glare at me .

“What the hell are you looking at me like that for?” I grouse.

“You’re the one saying misogynistic shit, dude. Do you still honestly think Emma doesn’t deserve her place here after almost a month?” Alex shakes his head in exasperation.

“ You asked me why Derek gave her the job!”

“ I was trying to get you to admit to being an asshole. To admit Emma is good at this. Derek hasn’t asked any of us because, let’s face it, we’re not the best at getting personal with him.

Drew and I are too analytical to make the personal connections, and you have the whole ‘grumpy asshole who doesn't talk’ vibe. Emma balances it out. She’s easy to connect with.

Hell, even Ralph likes her, and that asshole doesn’t like anyone. ”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?” I bark at him.

“Because you don’t listen,” Drew states.

“Look, I think you need to learn to be nicer to her or you risk running her off.” Alex runs a hand through his blonde hair.

I take a deep breath and let it out with an exasperated sigh. “Fine. I’ll try to be nicer.”

With a nod from both of them, they leave my office.

God, this last month has been nothing but stress. I need a fucking break. I log in to my Temptation Lounge portal to reserve a room for tomorrow night, relieved to see my preferred one is open on such short notice.

Then, once I finish the bid, I walk across the hall to Emma’s office and knock on the door.

“Come in,” her voice clips from behind the glass.

I slowly open the door and hear the unmistakable sound of her nails clicking away on the keyboard. It always amazes me how fast she can type. I don’t know how she does it with the length of her fingernails.

When she stops typing and sees I’m the one in her doorway, she lets out a loud sigh before continuing whatever she’s working on. “What do you want?”

“I came to apologize.”

In a truly impressive move, she rolls her eyes without even stopping her typing but doesn’t respond.

I sigh and sit down in the chair across from her, waiting for her to acknowledge me or stop typing so I can apologize.

After a minute, I decide to just start talking, “I’m sorry for saying Derek only chose you because you’re a pretty face. I shouldn't have reduced you to that. It was really impressive you got the job.”

One minute passes. Nothing. Just the click click click of the keys.

“Are you going to say anything?” I keep my voice level, even though I want to bark at her for not even acknowledging me.

God, if she were my sub still, I’d have her bent over my knee — dammit. Why do I keep thinking about that? It’s been almost a month. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough. I need to cleanse my palette with someone who isn’t her.

She finally stops her typing and looks at me. “Thank you for apologizing. You can go now.”

I rear back as if she’s slapped me. “Excuse me?”

“I said, you can go now.”

“Are you seriously still pissed off at me? Even after I apologized? And complimented you?”

“What day is today? ”

What? “September fourth?”

“Ah, well, according to my calendar, my ‘give-a-fucks’ are on vacation until October. So, I accept your apology, but if you think that qualifies as a compliment, you’re sorely mistaken.”

I truly don’t understand how this woman is the same sweet submissive girl I first met at the club. It makes me wonder which side of her is the real Emma because surely they can’t both be.

Right?

“Fine. It was really admirable you were able to relate to him so quickly and get him to tell you the story about his wife. He’s never once mentioned his wife to any of us, so it was cool you got him to open up.

I’m…” I swallow harshly. “I’m impressed with you.

You’ve done a really great job this last month.

You’re a vital part of our team, and I’m sorry for making it seem otherwise.

” The words burn coming out of my mouth, not because they’re a lie but because they’re true.

Emma blinks, her cheeks tingeing a light shade of pink before she clears her throat. “I—uh… Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. I appreciate it.”

Having reached my word quota for the day, I simply nod and leave her office.

After the disaster that was this morning with Emma, I’ve been holed up in my office with the glass opaque, so everyone leaves me alone. I should be done with these invoices and the plans for the next phase of the townhome complex I’m overseeing, but I can’t focus.

I hate that I hurt Emma’s feelings.

A lot more than I want to admit.

I’m not used to caring about the feelings of my coworkers, but I was an asshole.

I’ve just about given up on getting anything productive done when there’s a knock on my door, and Papà waltzes in like he owns the place.

I guess he does.

“Ciao, figliolo.” Hello, son.

“ Ciao, Papà. ” Hello, Father.

Papà settles in the chair across from me, giving me thorough onceover and nodding his head.

“It’s been a month since Emma was added to the team.”

“Yes, it has.”

“And?” He raises an eyebrow at me.

“And I’ll admit, you made a good choice.”

Papà grins and claps his hands together. “I told you! I knew she would be an asset to us. And she landed a job with Derek. That’s going to put our company on the map for other developers.”

I flinch at the mention of Derek, the guilt over saying she only got the job because of her looks bubbles in my stomach and makes me feel ill.

“She did well,” is all I say.

“Well, she has to work harder to be taken seriously. You haven’t exactly been easy on her.”

“You heard?”

“Of course I heard. And you’re lucky I don’t tell your Mamá about what you said. She would slap you over the head for being so rude to a sweet woman like Emma. We raised you better.”

I groan at the subtle threat. “I know, you and Mamà raised us well. I don’t know why, but Emma just gets under my skin and drives me crazy.”

“Amor senza baruffa, fa la muffa.” Love without a quarrel, it makes mold.

An Italian saying meaning disagreements keep a love alive. But this isn’t love.

I roll my eyes. “Non sono innamorato di lei.” I’m not in love with her.

“C'è una linea sottile tra amore e odio, figliolo.” There’s a fine line between love and hate, son. “You never know when you’ll cross it,” he says as he stands, knocking on my desk before he leaves.

I want to shout after him, “I’m never going to cross it!” but I don’t. Clearly, he’s delusional if he thinks I’m going to fall for a coworker. Why would he want that anyway? If things went badly, he’d lose one of us.

Sure, she’s gorgeous. She’s witty, smart, and sassy as fuck. She takes no shit from me, even though she could. She’s incredible in a scene…

I scrub a hand over my face and shake away the thoughts threatening to take over my brain again. I can’t think about her in that capacity again.

We’re coworkers. Not even friends. There’s nothing more to it, and there never will be.