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But I couldn’t wonder why her eyes landed on the bald-headed guy again.
I moved my eyes between them and caught a slight smile on his face.
What the fuck was going on? My skin crawled in irritation at the interaction. And my fist itched to slam itself into his face.
“…sir?”
I turned to find Chloe staring at me. “What?”
“I was just asking if there was anything else we need to put in place before we commence.”
No. The only thing I needed to put in place was David’s damn face.
“Encryption protocols for the drone’s software are already in place. Cybersecurity is doing a great job. I think we’re good to go.” David’s voice sounded louder this time.
Involuntarily, I shot him a hard gaze. He didn’t call the damn shots. I did.
And I showed him that.
“David,” I deadpanned. “Let's not forget about potential engineering tweaks that might arise during production. I want updates from you and your team every step of the way.”
He nodded firmly. “Yes, sir.”
That seemed to irritate me even more. “You all are dismissed.”
They all strode out with a look of determination on their faces. Still, without meeting my eyes, Evie began to pack the few papers with practiced efficiency.
She’d only been here two days. I wondered how she already had a…connection with David. My tongue itched to ask. Instead, I traced my eyes from the soft curve of her jaw to the one on her back.
She wore a fitted, knee-length dress that hugged her in the right places. My eyes roamed the expanse of her backside. The shape of her ass seemed even more accentuated with this dress.
My dick agreed with me. Restraining a groan, I quickly crossed my thighs. “The minute of the meeting?”
“Documented.” Her curt reply momentarily threw me off guard. I waited for something else, but there was nothing.
“You work closely with Maxwell.”
“I know that, sir.”
I didn’t know what irked me more. That I wanted her to look at me or that my damn boner kept rising. I slowly felt my anger rising.
When she was done, she gave a curt nod and walked out. The anger exploded in my chest. Fuck. I was angry at everything… her, David…myself. I was especially angry at myself.
My nostrils flared as I heaved. I was long overdue for a damn visit to the therapist.
I stood up, immediately making my way to the garage. I spotted my red Ferrari before climbing inside. In no time, I was on my way.
The noise in my head refused to quieten. I started to feel it all again. After about half an hour, I turned into the quiet, tree-lined street.
The familiar brownstone building came into view as I pulled up. I exited the car and then walked to the entrance.
The exterior was a warm shade of cream, accented with climbing ivy that softened the edges. I didn’t bother to stare at the brass plate on the door before entering.
The calming aroma of sandalwood hit my nostrils as I entered the waiting room. It was like I’d remembered— small and intimate, furnished with plush armchairs upholstered in a calming seafoam green.
A low coffee table displayed art books and tasteful nature photography magazines. I brushed through this until I reached her office. I knocked and then entered when she spoke.
“Dr. Amelia,” I nodded at the five-foot-five doctor.
