Page 46 of Van Cort

RIVER

My bad mood lingers, tainting the early morning wake-up. I should have said no - should have stood up to him. It’s what’s been playing over in my head all night and shifting that thought is impossible. Much like my ever-growing feelings for Everett. Even with yesterday’s behaviour.

I started off so well. Holding my ground, even if I could feel the temper rising inside me like a storm. Until he put his hands on me, and then all of my anger seemed to flee in cowardice.

But it was… hot. Seeing a man like him come undone and feeling the passion that was under the surface was both exhilarating and somehow terrifying, too.

It was there, maybe more than I’ve seen before, only veiled with the aggressive nature of his dominance.

A side that I’m embarrassingly turned on by.

There were glimpses when we were at his place - the orders and the commands, but they were gentle in contrast to yesterday. Like he was coaxing me. Was what he unleashed on me yesterday the real side of him?

Maybe making him frustrated when I stand up to him might do him some good.

The problem remains that I’m still angry, though. I’m still mad because he believes he’s right, and I’m not sure he knows how to see anything if it’s a different perspective than his own.

I guess I’ll find out in a few hours.

First, I need to check in on my actual job, despite his contractual obligation crap. It might be temporary, but I’m also not stupid enough not to plan for the fact that he, as my current… boyfriend? I’m not even sure, shouldn’t also control my career.

Visiting my actual employer before dawn will mean not running into anyone. I hope.

Making the familiar route to work gives me time to work out the fury still burning – and I’m equally annoyed that some of it is directed internally. Nobody is a harsher critic of me than myself. Well, I’m sure Everett could be, if he chose to be.

The lobby is only occupied by the receptionist and a security guard at the front desk, both of whom offer no question as to why I’m here at the crack of dawn. There’s no way I’ll risk being late to the office with Everett, not after yesterday and the gracious way I left.

The office floor is blissfully quiet, and I revel in the fact that I’ll be uninterrupted while here – in out, nobody needs to know, and I can check in on the pitch project that I was meant to be part of until Everett.

“Oh, good morning, Ms…” Mr Whitham stops in front of me and raises his brows.

I freeze. “Anderson, Sir. Good morning.” My smile is automatic.

“Ah, yes.” He tilts his head. “You’re working with Van Cort still?” His eyes narrow on me as he wags his finger in my direction.

“Yes, I am.” I stroke my skirt, smoothing the wrinkles. “I’m just following up on one of my clients. I didn’t think it would be a problem coming in early.”

“Has Mr Van Cort shared any specifics as to his current portfolio? What he’s looking for?” He turns and ushers me without making physical contact towards my office.

“No, Sir. He’s asked me to review a single company with limited exposure to others.”

“Well, keep us informed. He’s certainly not the client to disappoint, and he’d certainly see your position here improve.

” He takes a casual look around, as if my current position is beneath him.

Which, technically, it is. “Depending on his review of your performance, you understand.” He smiles, but it’s not quite polite. More of a pleasant reminder.

Great. Not only have I been sleeping with, dating, and potentially falling head over heels for Everett Van Cort, but he now holds my future job prospects in his hands. It’s like he can antagonise me without even trying.

***

Deliberating over walking right into Everett’s office or not frustrates me. I want to out of spite, especially after yesterday and his arrogance about ‘no one ever walks in’, but I eye the new woman behind the desk who’s guarding the door and reconsider.

So, I take a seat on the chair she shows me to.

The clock passes seven fifty-eight, fifty-nine.

On the strike of eight, the door opens and he walks out, buttoning his suit.

I stand, run my hand down my skirt, and square my shoulders.

“Good morning, Ms Anderson.”

“Mr Van Cort.”

“Devon, will you go and check that Ms Anderson’s office is ready?”

“Of course.” She stands and strides out and down the hall.

“So, are we going to be cordial today?” he asks.

“That’s up to you. Do you intend to fuck me to try and get me to do as you want?”

“So, not cordial, then.” His response doesn’t stop the corners of his lips tipping up.

Every inch of my body screams for me to back down. To capitulate and agree to what he wants. Telling him that I was with my friend – my best friend – isn’t a big deal. But at the same time, it’s huge.

The woman returns and nods at him before returning to her desk.

He starts walking.

“Will you be explaining what you’d like me to do more specifically today?” I ask, as I follow.

“Do I need to? I thought you were the analyst.” He opens a door, waving me inside.

“I am.”

“Then analyse. Run the risks. Look at the fine details. You might find something others can’t.”

The office is huge. Windows, a sectional, a coffee machine, fridge.

It’s impressive. And flattering. And everything I’d want if I were moving firms or getting a promotion.

It’s also only three offices down from his, so it makes no sense that he’s done this for me just to review some of his financials.

This is an office for his finance director.

I look back at him. “I’m only here for two weeks, wasn’t that the original contract?”

“Unless I decide otherwise.”

“Don’t.” I close my eyes.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t decide otherwise.” My voice is strained, emotion closing my throat.

God, he’s frustrating. “This is my career, Everett, you don’t get to play with it like a game.

This might have started as a way of spending time together and getting to know one another, taking me off to Vancouver, but I’m serious, even if I dislike my current boss. ”

“You’d rather go back to the asshole?”

“I’d rather I have the decision for myself. And if you wanted me to be part of your business, you’d offer me a job based on my credentials and skills, rather than wanting to keep tabs on me.”

I take a step back, away and out of reach, to head off any and all potential hands-on contact to derail my confidence and stand.

He pauses, and I latch onto the idea that he’s actually heard me.

“I’ll send Devon in with the files, computer login and whatever else you need. I have several meetings, so won’t disturb you again today.”

He leaves, closing the door behind me.

Great.

***

I pour the glass of wine, knowing it’s not the wisest of decisions, but then again, there are more than a few decisions that I could do with drinking to.

Everett was true to his word, and I didn’t see him again, and I’m left second-guessing myself. Hopefully the wine will solve that, and I’ll face Everett again tomorrow, and things will…

The door buzzer sounds, and I contemplate ignoring it. I’m not expecting anyone, but Mom hasn’t made a spontaneous visit for a while.

But it’s not Mom at the door.

“House calls again?” I ignore the immaculate suit he’s wearing and leave the door open. He’ll just come in anyway, at least that’s what I expect after the last couple of days.

“Am I interrupting?”

“And if I said you were, what would you do?”

“Well, it would certainly change my plans for the evening.”

“Which are? You’re clearly here with an agenda.” I flick my eyes down his annoyingly handsome body and make sure he sees the move.

“Well, darlin’, isn’t wanting to see you enough?”

“Did you forget everything that’s happened over the last couple of days? And I’m really not in the mood.”

“I thought we could go somewhere nice and have dinner.”

Oh, he’s just on a roll. “You can’t just swoop in and throw a nice date at me and think everything is going to be okay.

You obviously think I’m going to drop everything for you as you’re already dressed.

” Any guilt at being too curt with him today evaporates under the heat of the anger now burning in my gut.

“So, that’s a no?” He grins at me, and it twists my stomach with nerves of anticipation.

“Urghh, you are so frustrating.”

“Wear something nice. Something special for me.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him to leave. But he’s made the effort, and the surprise doorstep visits are in his repertoire.

I stare at him, waiting for the simmer to fade.

I haven’t eaten, and maybe taking work out of the equation will help us. It’s been off since we came back, although I put that down to his neanderthal type behaviour, not mine. Somehow, I need to find my way back to not being angered by his dominant streak.

“If I accept, you need to wait for me in the car. I don’t trust you if I invite you in.”

“Seriously?” he questions.

“After yesterday at the office, yes, seriously. If you have reservations, I hope you’ve given me time and don’t expect me to be ready in ten minutes.”

“You take all the time you need, Andie.”

“River?” I thought the Ms Anderson in the office was appropriate. But he keeps forgetting, even after making a point of telling me he’ll call me that from now on. “You don’t seem to be able to make up your mind if it’s Andie or River.”

And there’s that damned, beautiful smile again.

I shut the door and go get ready.

***

I cling to his arm in the hope that my stiletto heel doesn’t slip between the slats of the pier.

It’s an unusual spot, not what I would have thought he would have chosen, but he is good at surprises.

As we turn towards the entrance, perhaps some of the why is answered.

The sky catches alight, blazing with reds and golds and oranges, all burning towards the horizon.

It’s beautiful and makes the delicate walk here worth it.

“Stunning, isn’t it?”