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I’m screwed. More than.
“Be a good girl, Muñeca. Don’t fight me.”
“You haven’t earned the right to make demands on my time.”
“I own your time, Mariah. Learn to accept that.” Then the bastard lowers his head and kisses my reddening cheek, rendering me speechless. Unsettled. Angry at his cockiness.
Then on the next breath, I’m turned on by the heat in his eyes and command in his tone.
This sudden urge to test his patience and conviction is a dangerous game, and I find myself meeting his stare without an ounce of fear. Without a care for the consequences.
Because I’m not a wilting flower, and I’m ready to play if he is.
“To own me, you have to catch me first, Mr. Lucas. Are you worthy?”
“I’d kill every man in this city if you so much as asked.”
Christ, those words stir something deep within me, but I walk away before impulses become problems down the road. Each step away from him is harder than the last, but I make my way back to my floor without looking back.
He doesn’t follow me inside the elevator. He doesn’t demand I respond, but I am aware of his heated stare and then the near suffocating presence he exudes the moment he steps onto the CEO’s floor an hour later. Javier doesn’t talk to me as he strides past my desk fully clothed and without a single hair out of place.
No blood. No slick remarks. Not so much as a look in my direction before slipping inside of Malcolm’s office. It bothers me, this ignoring my narrowing eyes and the small huff that escapes, but more so when a few minutes later my phone rings with my cousin’s extension blinking.
“Yes, boss?”
“Two coffees, please, and bring in the Bernard file.”
“Right away.” I’m already grabbing the folder he needs, anticipating it earlier in the day, and closing the bottom drawer before locking it. There’s certain client information that can’t be lost or tampered with—stolen—and I only keep on hand the bare necessities at all times.
No one knows where we store physical documents except Malcolm and me. They have no access to the hidden room with restricted access a floor below. Most never realize that this building has an entire floor blocked off and that the elevator shaft skips it.
It was designed that way. Made to appear as though the vault room downstairs was its separate floor when in fact, it connects with one small step changing the elevations.
With the file in my hand of a notorious French art smuggler worth a billion from trading in the black market, I head to the small kitchen on the other side of the wall behind me. It’s not large, but it gets the job done for what we need; coffee being the main focus.
That, and pastries from a small Hungarian bakery my family loves to visit. There isn’t a single house that bears the last name Asher who doesn’t have a never-ending stock, and I plate a few while pressing the start button on the Keurig.
While it percolates, I make a conscious decision to let Javier use my mug. A shiny and pink and full of glitter unicorn cup that my aunt gave me after our Black Friday hunt last year.
“Good-looking jerk,” I mutter under my breath, filling both cups before adding creamer, sugar, and the pastries to the tray. “Should’ve just…Jesus!” I scream, almost dropping their refreshments. “How long have you been standing there?”
My tone is accusatory, my posture defensive, but Javier only grins at me while pulling the tray from my hands and placing it on a small dinette table to his left. “Long enough.”
“For what?” I’m shaking, but not from fear. His scent envelops me in a web of want.
“To hear the need in your voice.”
“You mean repulsion?”
“You and I both know that’s a lie.” Closer, he takes the three steps separating us and grips my hips with both hands. “And the feeling is very mutual, sweetheart.”
“Let go,” I hiss out and then bite back my disappointment when he does. His warmth is gone. He’s now by the door, holding it open with the back of his foot with the full tray in his hands. “What game are you playing at?”
“Hurry up with that file, Muñeca. Asher wants to go over it with me and I don’t have all day to wait.”
“You motherfu—”
“Watch the words that leave that pretty little mouth.”
