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Chapter 11
Sophie
I know Andrea is just being friendly, probably trying to make conversation or gossip a bit about the boss, but I still flush. She has no idea what she’s asked me, because I know plenty about Declan.
“Just the basics,” I say cautiously, eager not to give away too much. “I met him in passing during my interview process.”
“And your first impression?”
First impression? Even though it was actually my second impression following that fateful trip to San Francisco?
“Very professional,” I say. “And honestly, kind of a role model. From what I understand, he’s built this company from the ground up.”
Andrea chuckles and shakes her head. “Oh, you’ll learn.”
“Learn what?” Now I’m the one leaning in, nearly knocking shoulders with my coworker as we make our way through the hallways.
“How scary hot he is,” she says with a wide grin. “I’ll repeat it. Scary. And hot. The man is knock-your-boots-off handsome. But terrifying. He will bite your head off, chew it up, and spit it back out at your feet.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say haltingly, trying to digest her words as neutrally as possible. Hot? Definitely. Scary, though? I’m not so sure. Infuriating and a jerk? Pretty much my experience with him in a nutshell.
Though it’s not like I can hate on him completely anymore. He is the one who gave me a second chance at this job.
“That’s his office at the end of the hall,” Andrea says, stopping short at the entrance to the corridor and pointing. I clutch the dossier a little closer to my chest. “Before I leave you to your fate, let me do my very best Hannah impression.”
She sticks her elbows out in a satirical take on a high-fashion pose a model might strike in a photoshoot.
“‘Don’t let Declan intimidate you,’” she intones so dramatically that I have to snort, which makes her break character. “I mean, honestly. Hannah acts like she’s been here forever, but she’s almost as new as you. And she’d never call him Declan to his face. Nobody does.”
“Thanks for the info.”
I give her a little nod before we part ways, and I do my best to walk with purpose down the hallway while not giving anything away.
A slight but pretty and well-dressed secretary grants me admission to the inner chamber, then closes the door behind me. I don’t figure out that I’m holding my breath until I let it out with a whoosh, realizing that Declan actually isn’t in his office.
The relief is palpable. Now that I’m no longer bracing myself to face my new boss, I take a second to check out the massive corner office. It’s a luxurious space, but in a cold way—the decor is sparse and could’ve easily been classified as spartan if it wasn’t so fine. He has an incredible view of the city in wraparound windows.
Besides some black leather chairs and a sofa, the desk is really the only piece of furniture in the office. It’s probably heavy enough to crush somebody, all dark wood and metal. Declan’s laptop is shut, and there are a few folders of papers spread out over the surface.
Other than that, there aren’t any personal effects. It doesn’t surprise me. He probably doesn’t have a life outside of Dynasty. Especially if all he does is work and sleep around.
Wait. There is a framed photo.
Even though the shot is professionally taken and edited—there is not a hair out of place or blemish present for the trio of individuals—it looks dated.
The setting is tropical, but nowhere cheesy. Beautiful, with a pristine teal ocean behind the subjects. It’s a family, and as I study it more closely, I realize that it must be Declan’s family.
He can’t be very old in this photo. I place him maybe around ten or eleven. His mother’s stunningly beautiful, but Declan looks just like his old man. Declan’s father, in this photo, is probably near the age that Declan is now. But there are hard lines around his eyes, and his mouth. On anyone else, they could’ve been laugh lines. These make his face look cold and intractable.
Young Declan is smiling for the camera, but there’s something that makes me sad about that little boy. What could’ve happened to make those gray eyes flat like that?
Suddenly, a door I thought belonged to a coat closet opens, water running from within, and out steps Declan. His gray eyes flicker in what I’m assuming is surprise, then narrow, his jaw tightening.
Dammit. He’s caught me snooping, and I want nothing more than for the floor to open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole. I’m so embarrassed.
“Good morning,” I say as brightly as I can manage, hoping that if I ignore how red my cheeks must be, surely he can too. “It’s my first day. Super excited to be here.”
“What do you want?” he asks, and I’m completely taken aback by the flatness in his tone. Up until now, all of our interactions have been lined with heat. I’ve come away from them seared and smoking.
