Page 9 of The Christmas Trap

There it is.

I cut in. “You don’t think I can actually deliver.”

His gaze narrows.

“I don’t blame you. You don’t know me at all. But you can check my references. My last line manager will happily attest to my capabilities. In fact, it was he who insisted I apply forthis job.”

His focus sharpens. Then he picks up the pair of glasses on the desk and plants them on his nose.

Sweet sleigh bells. As if he wasn’t sinfully good-looking. Now, he’s giving billionaire Christian Grey hotness. It’s so unfair.

Not to mention, it’s wrong that I’m objectifying Mr. Davenport in my head. I’m engaged. I need to think about my fiancé.My. Fiancé.Guilt squeezes my chest.

I drag my mind out of the gutter and decide to interpret his move as having piqued his interest.

My theory is confirmed when he tilts his head. “Why did you leave your last position?”

I choose my words carefully, trying to push home my advantage. “Unfortunately, the company went out of business.”

He takes in my words then sets his jaw. “What’s your plan?"

“Excuse me?” I frown.

“Your long-term plan. I assume you do have one?” He fixes me with an impatient expression.

Once again, I compose my answer in my head before speaking. My instinct is, it's best to be upfront with this man. He’s busy. He meets people who want something from him every day.

The only way to impress him is if I stand out. My window of opportunity to do so is closing.

“I want to be CEO of a company someday. There’s no reason that I can’t lead a team and be at the head of a company like this one if I work smart and put in the hours, and I'm consistent.”

I firm my lips.

“I don’t take things lying down. I give as good as I get. A trait that will hold me in good stead.”

He places the tips of his fingers together. “You talk a good talk. But you haven’t told me why you want to specifically work forme?”

With that, I realize, he’s considering me for the role. It feels like I’ve passed some kind of test he’s set me. I release my grip on my bag and set it on the seat next to mine.

I force myself to remain calm, composed.Confident.I am confident. Iwillget this role. Think positively. I must convince him that I’m the person for this role.

“You’re a master strategist. You’re known to be exacting, but you’ve turned this company around in less than two years. That’s an achievement, by any standards. I want to learn from the best. And the best is you.”

One side of his lips ticks up. “You trying to blow smoke up my arse, Monroe?”

“Nah.” I lift my shoulder. “Maybe, a little.” I hold up my thumb and forefinger with a little space between them, then smile.

He laughs. A full, from the belly chuckle, which is masculine and gravelly and so hot. Little Christmas crackers go off inside my chest.Happy Festive Season to me.Hearing my sexy maybe boss laugh and seeing his features lit up like Trafalgar Square during the festive season make me feel like I’ve received an early Christmas gift.

My heart swells.So does my pussy.Until I remember that I’m engaged. Guilt churns my guts. My smile wilts a bit.

It’s wrong to feel so turned on by a man who’s not my fiancé. So why can’t I stop myself?

How much trouble am I going to be in, if his every action adds to his appeal?

Can I handle this attraction to him, which deepens with every second I spend with him? I won’t cheat on my fiancé. That much, I know about myself. It’s that which gives me the confidence to realize that if I get this job, I’m not walking away either. I can handle this pull toward him. I can do this. I can treat him as my boss, and nothing more. I can be professional about our relationship.Right?

I square my shoulders, gather my wits, and focus my mind.