Page 15 of Waiting for Acceptance (Nashville Nights #5)

FITZ

It’s almost a quarter ‘til eight and I know Lauren will be waltzing through the door any second now. I plan on grabbing her as soon as she does, so I can set the record straight about everything that happened on Friday. I’d be worried she’d already sent a company-wide email with the news if I hadn’t locked her email from working on anything but her desktop over the weekend.

I’m not typically one to cross a line like that, but I’m not about to let this entire assignment go to shit just because she’s pissed off.

Like clockwork, she walks through the front door of the office, greeting Amy with a smile before spotting me stalking toward her down the hallway and it immediately falls.

“I’m not in the mood this morning, Fitz.

” She brushes past me, quickly walking into her office.

She should already know better than to think I won’t follow her.

She shrugs off her coat and sets her stuff down on her desk, then spins around quickly, unaware I’ve walked in behind her, and slams into my chest. I grab her arms to steady her so she won’t fall over and she gasps.

Her eyes lock on mine and I notice a look in them I’ve been waiting to see—she remembers.

“Slow down, Trouble. I just want to talk.” I smirk at her and her cheeks redden.

“Stop calling me that,” she growls.

“You didn’t seem to mind it so much the first time.” I raise a brow at her and her lips turn down into a frown.

“No, I didn’t much like it this weekend either.”

She’s acting like she doesn’t remember.

My fingertips brush along her arms, feeling the goosebumps rise in their wake. I lean in slightly, catching the gaze of her wild blue eyes.

“You and I both know that’s not the first time you heard me call you that, Trouble. ”

“Yes, well. I was insanely drunk that night. You know taking a drunk girl to your room is a risky move—not a good look, Mr. Fitzgerald, ” she snaps and my blood boils.

“If I remember correctly, I offered to take you dancing. I was heading up to change the shirt you spilled a drink on when you began undressing me in the elevator—” I back her up until her ass hits her desk, and her chest rises and falls quickly as I grip her waist. “If anyone was taken advantage of that night, it was me. Not that I minded. You were a decent way to blow off some steam for a bit.” Anger bursts behind her eyes and I’m fucking delighted to finally be able to get a reaction out of her.

“Decent? Do you often use three condoms on a decent night?”

“Who said they were all used with you, Sweetheart?” Her mouth pops open and my eyes fall to her lips, running my tongue along my own as the memory of her taste floods my senses.

“Get. The fuck. Out.” She presses her hand against my chest and begins shoving me backward, her eyes watering as she forces me out.

“Lauren…”

“Fuck you, you selfish, insufferable, egotistical asshole!” The door slams in my face and I look to the side, catching a judgemental stare from Luther.

“Wow… You must have done something truly awful. Lu doesn’t lose her cool over anything in the office. I’d stay away until at least Wednesday.”

“How do you know she didn’t start it?” He lets out a half laugh, shaking his head as he walks into the conference room.

“Amazing. The two of you have worked together more than anyone else in this office for two months and you still don’t know anything about her.”

I beg to differ.

Lauren didn’t attend this morning’s team meeting, which was concerning enough by itself since she hasn’t missed a single one in the two months I’ve been here.

However, the fact that she hasn’t opened her door again since slamming it in my face this morning, except to get her lunch order from Amy, has me feeling like I may have gone too far this morning.

Knock knock knock.

“Go away,” she yells back.

Um, no.

I open the door and walk in, catching one of those famous eye rolls. “What if it was Amy or Luther? Would you want them to go away too?”

“No. I knew it was you, though,” she answers, pushing the lettuce from her salad around with her plastic fork.

“Oh? How’s that?” I question, sitting in the chair across from her desk, catching a glare from her as she tosses her fork down.

“Because everyone else in this office knows that my door being closed, means don’t even try to come in, and to email or text me instead.

” She closes the laptop next to her and I notice a tissue with black smudges was behind it.

Her eyes follow my gaze and she snatches it up, tossing it in the bin under her desk.

“What do you want?” She crosses her arms over her chest, sitting straight up in her chair.

“I wanted to apologi—” She holds her hand up to stop me.

“Don’t.” I look on in confusion.

“Um…oka?—”

“Apologizing would suggest you did something to upset me. You simply proved to me that you’re exactly who I thought you were. So thanks for that.”

“Ah, so you’ve got me all figured out then, is that it?” I lean forward in my chair, watching as she mirrors my movements.

“You make it pretty easy. You come in here, telling everyone what to do like you own the place—which makes sense now seeing as you’re about to—you make me jump through ridiculous hoops to prove I’m good enough to be here when everyone in this office knows damn good and well that I am.

Something you would also know if you took a second to glance at my record, but no.

Instead, you take the lazy way out, tagging along while I bust my ass to make sales.

Then you steal clients out from under me for God only knows what reason.

Since you clearly don’t need the money. Then you act all gentlemanly like at lunch which was more than likely a ruse just to see if you could get me into bed again.

I’m not sure why, exactly, since I was only decent .

Hmm, boredom, maybe? The rich bachelor is having trouble picking up girls in a new city?

” She taps her fingers against her lips, and it pisses me off that I want to kiss her just to shut her up.

I’m practically a flaming ball of rage sitting in the chair in front of her, all while she looks as calm as ever.

“But I’ll save you the trouble, Mr. Fitzgerald .

You and I are done. In every sense of the word.

I will not answer to you anymore, no matter what Marcus says.

If I’m going to work with you, the order will have to come from Jack himself.

” She lets out a little huff, the only giveaway that she’s worked up about all of this, and stands up behind her desk.

“Now get the hell out of my office.” I stand up from my seat, studying her carefully as she tips her chin up at me.

Sexy little Vixen. She has no idea who she’s dealing with.

I turn to walk out of her office, then think of one point in her rambling that needs immediate reconciliation.

“The check for the Johnsons townhome sale, the check with your name on it, is in your otherwise empty mail holder.” I see her look at where the little white envelope is barely peeking out at the top before her cheeks redden with embarrassment.

“I can’t wait to watch you eat your words, Trouble.”