Page 10 of The Dragon in the Corner Office (Monstrous New York #1)

Chapter 10

W hy is he being nice to me? A steaming to-go cup of lavender chamomile tea waits on my desk when I get to the office. An everything bagel slathered in cream cheese sits on a plate to the side.

These gifts have been appearing on an almost daily basis for the past week.

A quick glance at my watch shows it’s too early for Penelope to be here yet. Which leaves only one person who could be responsible for the—dare I say— kind gesture.

Cyrus sits at his desk, face lit up by the brightness of his computer screen. The office lights are still off, only the beginning rays of morning sun spilling in through the massive wall of windows. He’s engrossed in whatever he's looking at, so I allow myself a few seconds to admire his appearance.

Admittedly, Cyrus Wilcox is an attractive man. Even I can swallow my pride and admit that.

His dark-blonde hair is gelled back to perfection like it is every day. I wonder how much product he puts in those strands to get it styled so immaculately.

My gaze skims down to his thick eyebrows, furrowed over icy-blue eyes.

Eyes that could stare straight into my soul if I’m not careful. Cyrus seems like the type of man who could get me to let down my walls, and I’m not quite ready for anyone to get inside my fortress of solitude. I’ve been alone for so long that I’m not sure I even know how to have a relationship of the romantic variety.

The best I can do is fuck without any attachment. And I don’t even do that often.

Shaking my head, I banish the runaway thoughts because I am not —under any circumstances—interested in Cyrus Wilcox. Especially not in a romantic way. I just have to make it through this month and, hopefully, the board will realize it’s madness to have us work as a team. Then we can part ways amicably and go back to being rivals.

But the pinpricks of lust scattering goosebumps across my skin have me doubting myself .

Dropping my tote bag on the floor under my desk, I plop into my swivel chair and get my laptop out. Cyrus still hasn’t looked up from his screen, so I finish my perusal while my computer boots up. A strong nose leads to a set of pouty lips. Lips, I’m a little ashamed to admit, have been featured in my dreams at night.

I’ve noticed his face is always smooth and freshly shaved, and I bet it would feel amazing between my legs…

How long has it been since I last got laid?

Based on the burning between my thighs… Too long.

But I can’t go there with Cyrus. He’s the reason I lost my job ten years ago. He can’t be the reason I lose this one, too. I can only imagine he’s got something up his sleeve to one up me.

He keeps talking about this mysterious property that’s on his radar.

Huffing, familiar irritation simmers under my skin, my dragon coming to life in my chest.

“Nope,” I whisper. “Ignore him.”

Taking a sip of my tea, I pop in my earbuds, start some calming spa music, and pull up my digital renderings for the O’Malley warehouse.

Not for the first time, I push away the deep-seated loneliness that’s been rearing its ugly face more and more lately. I don’t need anyone. I’ve made it this far on my own. All I need is my job.

I t’s Sunday again.

And I’m at the office… again.

The truth is, I have nothing better to do with my time. So I might as well get a jumpstart on the week. Right?

I thought about asking Pen if she wanted to grab brunch, but I remembered she’s at a baseball game with her brother, niece, and nephew. I’m the one who bought them tickets, for crying out loud. Her brother is a huge Yankees fan, so I helped Pen get tickets for his birthday.

Plus, I can’t take away from her family time, even if I’m lonely.

I really need more friends.

Shuffling through the stacks of folders on my desk, I search for the O’Malley contract. The old man still hasn’t accepted my offer, which is more than generous, if I do say so myself.

And I do.

“Where the fuck is it?” In my haste, my finger snags along the edge of a paper. Pain rips through the tip when the paper slices into my skin. “Fuck,” I hiss, bringing the injured finger to my mouth and sucking the blood away.

The red liquid continues to ooze from the cut while I rummage through my tote bag for a bandage. Nothing. Must have used the last one after one of my temper flare-ups.

Lifting my head, my gaze snags on the desk across the office. I wonder if Cyrus has any?

Still sucking on my bloodied finger, I creep across the office to his desk. My stomach does a little cartwheel when I run my hand over the back of his desk chair, rolling it out of the way.

Why does this feel wrong? Being in his space when he’s not around.

He invaded my privacy by crashing my meeting with O’Malley. Cyrus isn’t even here; he’ll never notice.

And it’s one little bandage.

What am I supposed to do? Drip blood all over the important documents like a heathen. No.

Huffing a sigh, I jerk open the center drawer of his desk. The small space is littered with pens and paper clips, a stack of sticky notes. Clearly, the man is unorganized. It’s a wonder he’s made it as far as he has in the business world.

A little white rectangle catches my eye, sticking out from under a few pens. Snatching it up, I tear open the paper and wrap the bandage around my sore finger. “Perfect.”

Closing the drawer, I step back and grip the top of his desk chair, prepared to wheel it back in place so Cyrus will be none the wiser about my little theft. But my hands brush across the fabric of the suit jacket he’s left draped over the chairback.

It’s soft, and I can’t help but curl my fists into the thick fabric and lift it to my nose. Like an addict in need of their next fix, I inhale and am immediately hit with a whiff of his cologne. Spicy and warm, with notes of—

I take another sniff.

“Mmm. Vanilla.”

I’m ashamed to admit that I nuzzle my face into the fabric, letting Cyrus’s distinct scent wash over every inch of my body.

It’s safe.

It’s soothing.

A little wave of heat zips to my core, and I clench my thighs.

No . You are not attracted to him.

Across the office, my phone chimes on my desk. Dropping the jacket onto the back of the chair, I practically skip over to my desk, excitement swirling through me.

Maybe Pen’s brother canceled, and she wants to meet for brunch after all.

Grabbing my phone, I turn it over. The last name I’d expect lights up the screen.

Wilcox: It’s a beautiful Sunday, princess. You better not be wasting it at the office.

I whip my head up, searching every corner of the room for… I’m not sure what.

I’m utterly alone .

Just me and the poor wilting plant on my desk. Reaching out a finger, I poke at one of the floppy, yellowing leaves and wince.

He can’t possibly know I’m here.

Blowing out a breath, I plop down into my chair, eyes focusing on my computer screen.

But no matter how hard I try, my gaze wanders back to the jacket hanging on Cyrus’s chair. It’s a reminder that, unlike me, he has a life outside of work. He probably left it behind in his haste to get out of here on Friday. His thoughts no doubt clouded by the excitement of his weekend plans.

I, on the other hand, dread the weekends. If I’m not working, then I usually spend my time doing yoga, soaring above the city, or watching too much reality television. All activities I do in solitude.

Some life I’m living.

Wasting my immortality on the mundane.

Since our little run-in at the office gym, Cyrus hasn’t expanded on what family he has, but at least he has one. Besides Pen, I don’t have anyone, which is why I’m here—burying myself in work—on my day off.

That all-too-familiar, and uncomfortable, black cloud of loneliness hovers over me, consuming any last bit of concentration I may have had.

“Ugh. I’ll never get anything done now.” Sighing, I slam my laptop shut, stuffing it and my phone into my black tote bag.

He’s not even here, and he fucked up my concentration. His presence constantly lingers at the back of my mind. Why? How?

I need something to fill this void inside me before I let my feelings eat me alive. Pen may be occupied, so I’ll opt for the next best thing.

Somehow, I manage not to poke my eyes out when I hastily shove my oversized sunglasses on and march out the office door.