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"Stanley," Micah growls, his voice sharp and venomous, "shut the fuck up."
"Excuse me?"
"I didn't stutter." Micah's gaze flickers up to my boss, his expression deadly serious. "She made a mistake. Accidents happen. But if you ever dare speak to someone like that again in this office, you can get the hell out."
"Well, I…" Stanley sputters, his face turning red with anger.
"Apologize," Micah demands, his voice low and menacing. "Right now."
"What?"
"Apologize," Micah repeats, his words dripping with warning. "To Davina."
"That's really not necessary," I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
"No, it is necessary," Micah says firmly, his tone softening as he looks at me. "This is my office. He may be a dick in his own office, but he won't act like one in my presence." His gaze snaps back to Stanley, ice cold and unrelenting. "Apologize. Now."
Stanley bristles at Micah's demand but seems to know better than to protest. Micah could yank him off this project in a heartbeat and give it to another lawyer at the firm. I think Stanley knows he'll do it, too.
"My apologies, Davina," he says through gritted teeth.
Micah jerks his chin toward the door. "Good. Now, take your fucking lunch break."
With a huff of indignation, Stanley sweeps up his coat and stomps out of the room.
"Why don't you go ahead, too, Ms. Sharon?" Micah suggests calmly, his gaze locked on my face. "Davina and I will get these files back in order before we reconvene."
"Of course, Micah." Sharon is out of her chair in a split second, making a beeline for the door with her purse over her arm.
Silence falls over us as it clicks closed behind her, broken only by the rustle of paper as I continue to gather up the scattered documents. My face burns with embarrassment.
"You okay?" Micah asks gently, his concerned gaze boring into me. I see the anger and protectiveness simmering in his whiskey eyes.
"Fine," I mumble, bowing my head as I focus on straightening the mess.
He hooks his fingers under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. His touch is light but insistent, leaving no room for argument. "Look at me," he commands softly.
I obey instantly, unable to deny him. His penetrating gaze scans over my features, softening when he sees the tears pooling in my eyes.
It's not really the scolding that hurts. I'm used to Stanley's tirades. It's the fact that he talked to me like that in front of Micah—made me feel smaller than ever. It shouldn't bother me so much, yet it does.
I don't want this man to see me as a disaster.
"Does he talk to you like that often, Davina?"
"He talks to everyone like that," I whisper. "It's just the way he is."
"Bullshit."
"I…"
"We're not excusing a bully by saying it is the way he is, baby girl. He's a fucking asshole, full stop. And he doesn't get to speak to you that way." His eyes narrow on me, something dark and deadly drifting through them. "I don't give a fuck if he is your boss, no one speaks to you that way unless they want to answer to me."
"He hates that he's never made me cry like he has everyone else," I admit, looking up at him through my lashes. "I never let him see me cry. But I'm not a disaster, Micah. I know how to do my job, and I'm good at it. I'm just distracted today."
He peers down at me with a small smirk playing at his lips. "You think you're the only one distracted, little girl? You've got my dick so hard I can't even sit down."
I don't know what possesses me to do it—really, I don't. But he says those words and a bolt of white-hot desire rips through me. All I want is to see the proof of his need. I need it. Badly.
