Page 47 of The Christmas Trap

Oh my God.He said ‘mine’ in that growly voice of his, and I swear, my ovaries quivered. And my core clenched. And I'm pretty sure my panties are wet.

“If you were mine, I’d never let you out of my sight.” His eyes flash. “I’d make sure you never felt unsupported during this entire process.

“If you were mine?—”

“But I’m not.” I say it to remind himand methat our relationship is strictly professional.

He stiffens. His shoulders bunch. There’s a moment of desolationon his face. Only, it’s replaced quickly by a mask which feels impenetrable.

“I hope the wedding planning goes smoothly.” He pivots and walks back to his desk.

I want to apologize for what I said. But it’s the truth. I’m not his. He’s not mine. I work for him; that’s the only thing that binds us. So why do I feel so bereft? Like I did something wrong?

He snatches up his phone. When he looks at me again, his features are more composed. “The board meeting is in two days. Are you ready for it?”

The oak table gleams under the lights, so polished I can see my own reflection in its surface. The length stretches from one end of the room to the other. It’s designed to make you look small. Forgettable. If I give into it, that is.Which I’m not going to do.

I haven’t had the chance to exchange more than a few words with Brody since our last conversation. Our encounters have been professional. He hasn’t given any hint of being pissed off by our last conversation either.

Now that he’s handed over the lead on many of the meetings he chairs with the team, I spend most of my day in video conferences and meetings.

Brody, on the other hand, spends more time out of the office. The change in his daily schedule and mine, is astonishing.

I take in the tinsel strung across the conference-room ceiling, the bowls of candy canes I asked the team to set at intervals along the table, and the soft glow from the string of warm fairy lights draped across the windowsills.

Little things, but they put my mark on this meeting.

I asked the team to add them, a splash of warmth in a room that usually feels like an ice bath. Somehow, it steadies me. Pushes back the doubts gathering like storm clouds in my chest. Gives me the courage to sit up straighter.

On my first day, Brody made me reschedule this board meeting and then told me I’d be leading it.

Here I am, two weeks into the job, stepping into the role of CEO to chair the meeting. My heart is jittery, my palms damp, but I am ready to crush it.

My love life might be a spectacular mess, but at least here, in this room, I get a chance to shine. I look out at the ring of skeptical faces, inhale once, and welcome them to the table.

“We’ll begin with the earnings projections for Q4.” I keep my voice calm.

“Earnings?” Edgar Kingston, co-chair of the board, a man old enough to be my grandfather, with a full head of silver, sniffs from near the end of the table. “Brody’s the one most familiar with the figures. No need to trouble yourself with this.”

The laughter that follows scrapes across my skin. I breathe in and out slowly, reminding myself I am the queen of business dynamics. That this boardroom bullying doesn’t bother me. That Brody believes in me. Which further helps calm my nerves.

That’s when the door to the room opens, and the man himself walks in as if I conjured him. Brody takes a seat halfway down the table. He glances around the table, exchanging pleasantries with a few of the members. Even seated, he’s taller and broader than the others at the table.

There’s a magnetism to him which draws the eye. An energy around him that’s both dynamic and appealing. Also, God help me, he’s wearing his spectacles.

How am I supposed to focus on the darn numbers in front of me when he’s sitting there looking like a brooding, sexier, more lethal version of Clark Kent?

He nods in my direction, and I take it as a signal to continue.

“I’ll walk you through the briefing I circulated yesterday.” I school my expression into a cool I-don’t-care mask. “If you’ve read it, you’ll find the results familiar. If you haven’t… Then perhaps, take notes this time.”

Their smirks falter.

In the silence that follows, I can feel a hiss of approval ripplethrough the air. And his gaze, hot and heavy, lingers on me like a touch. I drink it in. God, how I crave it. Being the sole focus of Brody Davenport’s attention is a high I’d do anything to feel.

It coils heat low in my belly. It’s intoxicating. Erotic. Addictive. I didn’t realize how much I missed being seen like this. And now that I have it, I don’t ever want to stop being the center of his world

I keep going, flipping through slides, reciting numbers, countering their interruptions with crisp answers.