I grit my teeth. I anticipated this. Mr. Alby is a sadistic bastard who likes to throw monkey wrenches and last-minute requests at people to see how well they deal with them. I think he gets off on watching people scramble, panic, and battle for his attention. He’s always made my skin crawl, though I hide it well behind a smile.
“I’ll have things settled for thirty minutes. That’ll give you enough time to finish up and make your way over.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Adora.” His words are honeyed warmth that spreads through my body. His deep voice full of appreciation ha
s always had a profound effect on me.
“Starve for sure. I’ll send you the details via text shortly.” I end the call and close my eyes, pressing my thighs together in my black pencil skirt. Get ahold of yourself. I’ve never met a man I had such a virile response to before. From the minute I saw his hazel-colored eyes and massive hands, I knew I was in trouble. Then he spoke, and I was a goner. Time has only made the situation worse. Seeing him go through the upper echelon of women like tissues has become too painful to continue. Denial doesn’t work when emotions are involved. Choosing gifts for his flavor of the month had pushed me to the point of no return.
Regardless of what he has to say, once I share my feelings, I’m leaving the company. I have no clue how he’s going to take it.
“YOU TRULY ARE A TREASURE, Adora,” Mr. Alby purrs.
Taking a sip of my sparkling water, I mentally scream as he pats my hand with his wrinkled paw. There’s savagery in his watery, blue eyes that watch a person’s every move.
“Weston is certainly lucky to have you.”
“I do my best for our company, sir.”
His eyes light up, and I wonder if I’ve made a misstep.
“Many of the employees could learn from you. Dedicated, loyal, and beautiful.”
Why is he so focused on me tonight? I turn my gaze to Weston, who pointedly looks down at his food. I’m being kept out of the loop, and it’s unacceptable.
“You compliment me too much, sir.”
“And humble,” Mr. Alby crows.
My stomach twists into knots.
“I know a woman who could learn a few things from you.”
Misogynist bastard. I shove a spoonful of beans in my mouth to keep the words dangling on the tip of my tongue from escaping. I’ll wait until after I’ve worked my final two weeks before I let my real opinions on this monster fly. The thought makes me smile as I chew.
“Perhaps you can give Ms. Priscila a few pointers?”
I frown, searching my mental database for a connection to the name. “I’m not familiar with that name, sir.”
“Of course you aren’t. Priscila Scott is Mr. Scott’s eldest daughter. She happens to have time in her schedule to show us around while we’re here.”
“Won’t that be lovely, Weston?”
“Yes, sir. It’s always a pleasure to see Priscila,” Weston says woodenly. His face is locked down in the mask he wears for business.
I can’t glean any emotion or information from him. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable as Mr. Alby continues to study me. He hums and moves back in his chair.
“We’ve set up a few team building tours while we’re here. I’d like you to go with them, Adora. You can keep Priscila company and take photos for our newsletter. You have an artistic flair if I remember correctly, and we want to build strong relationships to help ... ease the merger along. What is it you do on the side?”
“I’m an illustrator, sir.” I’ve never garnered this much attention from him. What did I do to get caught in his crosshairs?
“That’s right. Drawing.” The dismissive tone makes my hackles rise. “It’s so important to have hobbies to keep us busy in our spare time.”
I open my mouth. A large, warm hand clutches my thigh and squeezes. My eyes cut over to the right, and I fall into West’s intense gaze. He gives the slightest shake of his head. Heat rushes to my cheeks and the back of my neck. I hum a noncommittal response to Mr. Alby as my heart tries to escape from beneath my ribcage. If West moves his hand just a little to the left, he’d be touching the bare skin of my upper thigh. I fight the urge to widen my legs like a wanton woman from the romance novels I read through rapidly.
Tightening my grip on my water glass as the blood rushes straight to my pulsing core, I force my hand to remain steady as I bring the cool drink to my lips and savor the liquid. I have to get through this dinner without spontaneously combusting. West removes his hand, and I mentally protest the loss. Bill’s restaurant is part pub, part dine-in. I admire the rustic wooden benches with leather-cushioned seats and leather chairs of the same material. Light wood paneling elevates it to a style I’ve decided to call pub chic. A row of frosted square glass forms a barrier between the pub and dining area with smaller, more intimate tables. Candles have been lit to add to the cozy atmosphere, and the smell of rich food fills the air. Music plays on low, blending in with the soft voices locked in conversation. I envy those clearly relaxing after a long day at work while I’m caught in work hell on the other side of the pond. I’m not saying Mr. Alby is evil, but he’d be Palpatine, or maybe Snoke if this was Star Wars. I blend into the background for the rest of the meal as Alby continues to shine a spotlight on me and ask probing questions. I want to tell him to shove it where the sun doesn’t shine. Suddenly, leaving this is looking better and better.
WESTON