Page 10 of Savage Little Lies

Cara pushes her hair behind her shoulders, keeping the long strands from obscuring the view of her neck and chest. “Coffee and breakfast today? Or just coffee?”

“Both. I’m starving,” I reply. My eyes settle on hers, tension forming in the space between us as I stop in front of her. She has no idea how badly my tongue craves a taste of her. “Get something for yourself too.” And get out of my office before I forget myself.

Cara’s face brightens as if she senses my desperation and relishes it. “Thank you. I’m pretty hungry myself.”

I check the time on my watch, grounding myself back in reality. It takes longer than it should for me to figure out which way the hands are pointing. “My meeting is in an hour. I’ll come with you to the café.”

It’s not like I have anything else to do during that time, other than fantasize inappropriately about her.

Cara lifts her eyebrows in surprise, her green eyes sparkling. “Are you sure? I can go by myself.”

I shake my head. “It’s just down the street. Lead the way.”

“Yes, sir,” Cara replies, giving me a smile before striding toward the double doors.

I hang back for a second, giving myself time to watch the alluring sway of her hips as she walks. We haven’t spoken much about anything other than work. Not that we should be getting personal with each other, but I can’t help but be curious about her. Brains and beauty are one hell of a combination.

Outside of her education, work background, and debt, I don’t know much about her. She seems particularly…innocent, but there’s something in the back of my mind that tells me otherwise. That dress certainly doesn’t scream innocence.

Cara pauses before opening the doors and looks over her shoulder at me. “Coming?”

I could. Fuck me, I could come on her beautiful breasts so damn hard.

With a stiff nod, I leave my office with her and head into the elevator. Now that I’m closer to her than usual, I can smell her perfume. I expected something flowery, but she smells sweet instead.

Vanilla. Maybe a bit of cinnamon. Like she just walked through a bakery. I could devour every inch of her.

Cara glances over at me, her eyes catching mine. An embarrassed look fills her face as she looks away just as the doors open. She walks out, leading me through the large lobby of the building, garnering the undivided attention of the two guards at the front desk.

Possessiveness momentarily sparks from within me before I quickly douse it with the water of pragmatism.

Cara’s not mine. She’s only my employee. I can’t shove a skewer through these assholes’ eyeballs just for looking at her.

What the fuck is wrong with me? Why is this woman suddenly a million times more intriguing today?

Perhaps it’s because she hasn’t been acting shy like usual. Either she’s feeling more confident or she wants something from me. She’s only just started, so she can’t possibly be vying for a raise. Maybe she wants an office of her own.

I prefer her occupying my office.

When we arrive at the café, we get in the short line at the counter, the smell of coffee and pastries filling the air as jazz music plays over the speakers. It’s a contrast from the typical chaos that I’m used to on a workday or night.

“What do you want?” I ask her. The question carries more weight than is required for the moment. But I find that I’m genuinely curious about the answer for once. Everyone I know wants something from me—money, power, a promotion, mercy. My life is one transaction after another, which has become tedious.

“Something sweet,” she replies as she peers at the case full of pastries and other desserts. She looks over at me with a curious expression on her face. “Do you ever eat anything sweet?”

I could eat you up and down, milaya.

Shrugging off those thoughts, I tell her the truth. “I wasn’t allowed to growing up. I got used to not eating it.”

Cara tilts her head. “Are you opposed to trying something new?”

God, I loathe change. To me, new is usually just another word for disorder, a disruption to the status quo, a loss of my much-needed sense of control. Yet, my lips form a smirk when I tell her, “I welcome it.”

“Then you can split one of these cherry Danishes with me. They’re as big as my head,” Cara says as she motions to a large Danish with cream cheese and cherry filling.

It does sound pretty good. A few bites won’t kill me.

“Sure,” I reply before taking one of my credit cards out of my wallet and paying for our breakfast and coffee.