Page 11 of The Dragon in the Corner Office (Monstrous New York #1)

Chapter 11

O ne subway ride and a few blocks later, the iconic neon pink sign for Cream Me Up comes into view. My steps quicken, and I say a little prayer of thanks that I chose to wear sensible sneakers this morning over my usual stilettos.

Carbs and caffeine are the perfect combination to lift my foul mood.

The little bell chimes happily when I push through the door, eyes searching for the big green orc who I know will put me in a better mood.

“Yo, Annie. What brings you in on a Sunday?” Phil greets me from behind the bar-height counter. His giant hand pushes a rag around the shiny lacquered top, but his deep-brown eyes are fixed on me as I huff and hoist myself onto one of the retro pink stools.

“Can’t I stop by and see my favorite orc?” I perch my elbows on the clean bar top. Nestling my chin on my clasped hands, I give him a sweet smile.

Phil’s booming laughter fills the quiet diner. “Last I checked, I’m the only orc you know.”

Shrugging, I pick up a menu and peruse the choices, even though I order the same exact thing every time I stop by.

“Lavender chamomile and everything with cream cheese?”

My smile grows as Phil recites my usual order. “Yes, thank you. You know me so well.”

Flashing a wink over his shoulder, the green giant lumbers into the kitchen to prepare my order.

Spinning on my stool, I take in the small, hole-in-the-wall diner. I stumbled upon this place a few decades ago, when monsters were newly “out,” and I needed a safe space.

I love the retro vibes Phil and his wife have chosen for the decor. But they’ve given the place their own flare. Pink-and-white checkerboard adorns the floor, rather than the traditional black and white. Vinyl pink booths line the outer perimeter of the space, with bistro tables taking up the center. Bright purples and teals paint the walls in swirls of tye-dye.

Overhead, glowing stars, planets, and spaceships dangle from the ceiling.

It’s chaotic and over the top, but I love it here.

This morning, I’m the only customer in sight, making me wonder if they’re even open. My eyes flit to the sign on the door. Sure enough, the usual pink glow of the Open sign is noticeably absent.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were closed?” I question with raised eyebrows when Phil pushes through the double doors of the kitchen.

Sliding a plate and mug in front of me, he leans his big elbows on the counter until we’re eye to eye. “Looked like you could use a friend.”

Guilt swirls in my stomach, making the food in front of me suddenly unappetizing. Reaching to the stool next to me, my hand wraps around the straps of my tote bag. “I can go. I’m sure you’re busy and eager to get back home. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Sit, Annie. Eat.” He pushes the plate with the bagel on it closer to me.

It does look really amazing. The bagel is toasted to perfection, and a thick smear of fluffy white cream cheese is spread on each half. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten anything yet this morning .

Settling back in my seat, I pick up one half of the bagel and take a healthy bite. “How’s Maria?” I ask once I’ve swallowed the doughy goodness.

My question has a broad smile lighting up his face. Two rows of white teeth glimmer in the morning sun. “Really great. She took the twins to visit her mother for the weekend.” Phil is married to a pixie female. She’s less than half his size, so I’m not sure how that size difference works.

His smile falters. “I got a little lonely with them being gone, so I thought I’d bake away my sorrows.”

“I can relate,” I admit.

“Love troubles, Annie? Maybe I can help.” One black eyebrow rises as he waits for me to spill my guts.

Scoffing, I gulp down a mouthful of earthy tea. Love? I don’t do love, and I certainly don’t talk about my personal life with anyone besides Penelope, but Phil’s known me for a while now. I doubt he’ll judge me.

“I’ve been feeling extra lonely lately for some reason.” I shrug, dropping my eyes to follow my finger where it drags through the thick cream cheese on my bagel.

“Have you ever thought about finding a mate? Maybe it’s time to focus on something other than your career, Annie.”

The familiar feeling of being unloved creeps into my body. “My mother used to tell me fairy tales of soulmates and mating bonds when I was a hatchling. But that’s all they were… fairy tales. Urban legends. Dragons don’t have ma tes, Phil.” My lips curl into a tight smile before dropping to a scowl. “We live mostly in solitude once we’re of age. But I’ve always been a little different; craving companionship more than I should.”

“Then why not find a mate?”

“Is it that easy?” I ask. He found one, but I don’t know anything about orc or pixie culture. Phil and his wife certainly don’t seem as frosty as me. Finding love must have been easy for two cheery and upbeat individuals.

“Maria is my best friend. I can’t imagine doing life without her. I’d be miserable. You just have to find someone you’re willing to let in. Ya feel me?”

I swallow, but nod. That’s the part of the relationship I struggle with. I’m scared to let anyone in. A cold sweat cools my normally scorching skin at the thought alone.

Phil picks up his rag again and begins cleaning the bar top around me. “What about this Cyrus guy?”

Even the mere mention of his name has my heart racing. “W-what about him?” I cough, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.

Phil shrugs. “He seems nice.”

“Psh… nice? ” I mutter before finishing the first half of my bagel.

Obviously not hearing me, Phil continues. “He’s been in here every morning this week to pick up an order for you and Penelope. Couldn’t you date him?”

Smoke lingers at the back of my nostrils, my hands heating as they ball into fists on the bar top. “He is the most self-centered, infuriating, obnoxious asshole of a man to walk the face of this, or any other planet in the solar system. Probably the whole galaxy.”

“Bit extreme,” Phil mumbles. His hand stalls mid-swipe. Eyes rising to mine, his lips curl into a smirk. “But the way you’re reacting right now tells me you don’t actually hate him.”

“Are you high, Phil?”

He chuckles. “No, Annie. I’ve known you for a while now, and I’ve never seen anyone get you this fired up. Not even your asshole boss. Sure, you curse him out when you think I’m not listening. And I add an extra dollop of cream cheese to your bagel order.”

“Bless you,” I say, holding a hand to my thundering heart.

“But not even on a bad day, when you stumble in with an inferno blazing in your eyes, has your gaze burned with this…” he trails off, pointing a thick green finger at my eyes.

“With what?” I swallow, not sure I really want to know the answer. Something in my gut tells me I already know what he’s going to say.

“Lust.”

Fuck.

I shake my head, my low ponytail swishing along my back. “No. I refuse to give in to my attraction to that man!” He hurt me before; I know he’ll do it again. If he’s the only choice for a partner. A mate. Whatever you choose to call it, then I’m better off alone. At least my heart would remain in one piece.

My vehement denial gets a chuckle from Phil. “If you don’t want to take him as your mate, you could at least use him for some good old-fashioned hate sex. Blow off a little steam, dollface.”

“Absolutely not. No way. Not happening.” Draining the last of my tea, I place a pile of cash on the counter. It’s definitely more than what I owe, but Phil is a staple in the monster community, so I’m willing to help where I can. “Thank you for the advice, Phil. But I’m better off shoving the man off a cliff.” My lip curls into a sneer, baring one sharp fang.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night,” Phil snarks, saluting me as I storm out of the diner. At least my belly is full now. Phil’s company and the chamomile sufficiently quelled my loneliness for the time being.

Stomping back to my penthouse, I decide to spend the rest of my Sunday doing some self-care. A long soak in the tub, maybe a face mask and pedicure. Anything to build back my external armor before spending another week with Cyrus.

I’m more determined than ever to keep my interactions with him to a minimum. I’m not an idiot; I know it’s inevitable since we share an office and we’re forced to work on the O’Malley project together. But that doesn’t mean I have to be sunshiney and sweet. He should know by now, I’m as cold as they come.

I beat Cyrus to the office the next day, lying in wait at my desk for his daily gift . At six on the dot, the sun is barely peeking above the horizon, and a hulking form saunters into our office. All broad shoulders and loose steps. Once again, not a hair is out of place and his solid royal blue necktie is coordinated to his paisley blue shirt.

Lips pulled into a saccharine smile that displays his perfect teeth, Cyrus prowls over to my desk with a to-go cup and pink bag in hand. The distinct pink flying saucer logo of Cream Me Up adorns both.

Phil, you traitor.

“Good morning, Ms. Bauer. I hope you were able to enjoy the beautiful weather yesterday. A little vitamin D can do wonders for someone’s moods.”

Fucking asshole. Familiar heat builds in my fingertips while my eyes remain locked on my computer screen. “You can take your vitamin D and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, Wilcox.”

Out of the corner of my eye, his steps falter, but his smile only grows wider as he approaches my desk. “I see someone woke up with a case of the Mondays.” He chuckles, plopping the bag and cup onto my desk.

Oh, you smug—

Wrapping one hand around the cardboard cup, I remove the plastic lid with the other.

Inside the cup, the brown liquid boils as heat seeps from my flesh. Yanking the poor potted plant to the center of my desk, I dump the hot liquid onto the soil. Without opening the bag, I toss it into the trash can under my desk.

Glaring up at him, I cross my arms over my chest. Cyrus’s jaw clenches, but his eyes lower to my tits before slicing back to my face. “What the hell, princess?”

Popping to a stand, I slam my hands down on my desk. The glass splinters under the force. Great, there goes another desk. “I don’t know what your motives are, but we’re not friends. Hell, we’re barely even coworkers.”

His blue eyes blaze, and I’m not sure if it’s with anger or lust.

But the fire in his gaze sends a riot of goosebumps across my skin until I can no longer contain the shiver that rushes down my spine. I cannot give in to this magnetism between us. He’s the enemy… remember?

“If that’s how you want to play it, then that’s how we’ll play it, princess .” Shutting down our verbal duel, he turns and stomps to his desk, ignoring me for the rest of the morning .

Once Pen arrives, the day continues with Cyrus giving me the cold shoulder, but I prefer it this way.

For the first time in weeks, I’m able to focus on my work, finishing off the warehouse mockups and leaving a voicemail for Mr. O’Malley regarding his signature on the contract.

It’s nearing five o’clock when I come up for air. Grabbing the papers I need, I swing by Penelope’s desk on my way to the copy room. “Have a good dinner with your brother. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Annie.” She smirks. “Don’t kill Cyrus while I’m gone.”

My laughter carries down the hallway, and I throw a final goodbye wave over my shoulder.

I’m so engrossed in the whir of the copy machine as it spits out my papers, I don’t notice his presence until his spicy scent fills the small room to the brim. “What is your problem with me, princess?”

Spinning away from the copier, I find Cyrus leaning against the doorframe of the copy room, arms crossed over his thick chest, biceps straining against the sleeves of his shirt.

Why does he have to be so fucking attractive?

His eyes trail over me, and I stand an inch taller in my stilettos .

I’ve been running a little hotter ever since our face-off this morning, so I left my cardigan at my desk, leaving me in a flimsy camisole and my tight pencil skirt.

His tongue peeks out, and I can’t peel my eyes away when it runs a path across his lower lip, wetting the plump flesh.

I’ve managed to avoid him all day, but now he has me trapped in this fucking closet-sized room with his dark vanilla musk creeping into all my pores. “I don’t have a problem, Wilcox. Do you?”

With a smirk, my eyes drop to the front of his pants. Sure enough, there’s a faint bulge in his dark-gray slacks.

“ You are my fucking problem, Antoinette.” In three giant steps, he has me pinned between his hard chest and the copier. Dipping down, his heated breath fans across the side of my face. “I try to be nice to you. Be a good partner. And you bite my damn head off. Why?”

My throat clicks with a swallow. Ice settles in my veins, freezing my limbs like they’re made of stone. Part of me wants to fight back or flee. But the other part wants to stay right here, eating up the heat of his body, relishing the puff of his minty breath along my throat.

Raising my hands, they settle on his pecs, but I don’t push him away. “You’re in my space and in my head.” My voice is a harsh whisper, chest heaving when he skims his nose up the side of my neck. “And I hate it.”

At my hissed words, Cyrus pulls back until our mouths are a breath apart. All it would take is a slight tip of my chin and I’d know what his lips feel like. Are they as soft as they look? What does he taste like? Spicy? Maybe a hint of that tempting vanilla?

The clear membrane on my eyes slam shut, breaking me from his penetrating stare. “Just stop . Stop bringing me tea every morning. Stop bringing me my favorite bagel. Stop being nice to me.” This time, I do push against his chest until he stumbles back, taking his warmth with him. If he was any other man, I’d love to curl against him on a cold night.

But he’s not.

He’s Cyrus Wilcox.

The man who got me fired once upon a time. Walls back in place, I tighten my jaw, gritting out my next words. “Let’s just get through this presentation and hope Andrews lets us go our separate ways afterward.”

With shaking hands, I snatch the still warm papers from the copier. I shoulder past him, not stopping until I have my tote bag in hand and make my escape to the roof. An evening flight to the Statue of Liberty should calm my nerves.

I almost gave in to his perfect lips. That was too close for comfort.