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Apparently, they had noticed their boss’s agitation. They quickly left her side. Minka returned to her desk.
“Nice to meet you.” Will squeezed Vectra’s arm on his way past.
“Same here,” Vectra called to his departing figure.
She could have easily been amused by the sense of dread filling the area were she not the one caught in the crosshairs.
Qasim didn’t wait for her to reach him at the corner of the hallway. Instead, he headed on down the carpeted, portrait-lined space. Vectra attempted to assess his mood as he walked before her. Not that his icy manner in the lobby hadn’t been hint enough, but he acted like she’d been the one to go all antisocial when it’d been the other way around.
At any rate, it was no hardship to follow and observe him at a distance. Qasim’s love for outdoor activity was evident even beneath his standard suit-and-tie work attire. That day, a walnut-brown three-piece suit adorned his toned, licorice-dark frame.
They had been friends long enough for her to know that he hated ties. He usually discarded whichever one he wore either just before or right after lunch. The guy loved his comfort and the fact didn’t diminish the stunning craftsmanship of his body or face.
Bottomless dark eyes competed with the ebony richness of heavy brows and the sleep cap of hair he wore close cut. His facial hair was tamed into an intentional five o’clock shadow that partly hid a cleft chin and the faint lines that proved he was easy with his smiles.
Vectra blinked suddenly, at once regretting and realizing how much time she’d taken to admire the man’s face and form. The fact made her wonder whether she’d subjected any of her other male friends to such scrutiny. Doubtful. Her male friends were just that—just friends. Or, rather, they had been...until she met Qasim; he was a male friend she would have preferred become much more.
He opened one of the towering maple doors leading to his office. Vectra quickened her pace when she realized he was going to hold it for her as though she were an actual welcomed visitor. In spite of his polite manners, however, she could’ve sworn she picked up on a low yet distinctive sound of agitation. That sound rumbled through his chest when she passed him on her way into the room.
If ever there was an office that personified its owner, it’s Qasim’s, she thought.
The place was a testament to pretty much everything he held dear. One far, expansive corner was a hive of activity with wide-screen monitors broadcasting both financial and sports news from their perches atop a pair of pristine maple desks. Towering bookcases lined the room and were filled with pictures, plaques, awards and books spanning a range of genres. Above the cases nearest the desks was a stock ticker.
Vectra set her tote on one of the square black leather chairs that surrounded an impressive gaming area. She wondered if nice or nasty was the way to begin their conversation. She didn’t have long to debate.
“Coming to invite me to another party, Vec?”
The words carried over Qasim’s broad shoulder as he headed into his work area. He removed his suit coat, slung it over the back of the sofa he passed and smiled in her direction when he turned.
Okay, then...she decided, accepting that the conversation would be a tad strained. “Actually, I came to ask why I’ve been selected as the lucky one to get the brunt of the petty side of your personality?”
He smiled. While the gesture held a great deal of humor, the air of agitation remained.
“Qasim?” Vectra’s attempt to remain steely gave way, and her curiosity got the better of her. “Why are you angry with me?” She didn’t care for the pleading tone that clung to her words, but she wanted answers.
Qasim appeared taken aback, but recovered soon enough. “I’m not angry with you.” He made a pretense of reviewing the folders lying open on his desk.
“Well, you’re something. What’d I do?” Curiosity had given way to a smidge of self-consciousness while she stood before him. Something changed. His smile was gone, and the look that replaced it was observant in a way that made Vectra flush with heat.
Another of the agitated rumbles surged in Qasim’s chest, and he pushed back the wide black leather chair behind his desk.
Vectra could hear nothing over her heart beating wildly as anticipation had its way with her.
Qasim didn’t take a seat in the chair; instead, he headed in Vectra’s direction and then shifted toward the maple wet bar, which displayed a wide array of liquor bottles in various shapes and sizes.
Quietly, Qasim went about preparing Vectra’s vodka tonic, which he set firmly upon the bar top. From the full-size black fridge behind him, he retrieved his beer of choice and popped the top.
