Conflicted

“I’m sensing you could use a hand.”

I jump and look up into the eyes of none other than Aaron Wilmot. My heart begins to pound as I stare up at the man who holds my future in his hands. That’s a tad dramatic, but I really don’t need him seeing me in this state.

What the hell is he doing here?

He raises his eyebrows and I blush, accepting his extended hand. My fingers tingle as he pulls me to my feet and leads me over to his waiting car. I slide into the passenger seat as he runs around to the driver’s side and jumps in to escape the downpour. I shiver, rubbing my hands over my arms in an attempt to warm up.

“I saw the tumble you took. Impressive. Are you hurt?” he asks, nodding to my knee. His dark eyes penetrate me and all thoughts of Lucas flitter out of my head.

“Just a graze,” I say. He passes me a handful of Kleenex, which I place over the wound.

“I don’t know what to criticise you over first,” he begins, his dark eyes creasing with concern. “The fact that you’re out walking in this kind of weather, or that you’re walking alone at one in the morning.”

“I live less than five minutes away,” I lie, not enjoying the feeling that I’m some stupid child who needs scolding. I hadn’t even realised it was so late. Stupid Lucas. “I realise it wasn’t the smartest of choices, but I got sick of waiting for a cab.”

“Out with friends, I’m assuming?” he comments, his gaze falling on my bare legs.

I cringe, wishing I’d just gone with my original, more-sensible choice in clothing.

“Couldn’t one of them have walked you home? Safety in numbers and all that.”

“Out with a friend, and I didn’t want to ruin his evening,” I reply, gritting my teeth. I’m getting defensive, but I can’t help it. Why do I feel like he’s regretting his decision to hire me? “Look, I’m not in the habit of making careless decisions on my safety. My friend dragged me out tonight to celebrate me getting the internship, and to be honest, going out was the last thing I wanted to do.” I glance at him, sick of his questions and the way he’s making me feel. “Why are you even here?”

“Pardon?”

My face goes red. Exactly what am I accusing him of? Stalking me?

“I just mean it’s a bit of a coincidence that you happen to be driving past right at the moment I fall.” The words spray out of my mouth before I can stop them. Amusement sparks in his eyes, making me feel even crappier.

“I was working late at the office. You do remember it’s right around the corner?” he replies. His eyes dance at me, entertained.

Oh shit. Of course it is. I cringe again, wishing I could just disappear. Why hadn’t that occurred to me before I accused my new boss of stalking me? I need to stop talking. This is why I don’t drink. Half a gin and tonic and I have verbal diarrhoea. Once again I curse Lucas.

“Right,” I mumble, staring out of the window. Time passes slowly as we drive in silence until he looks at me expectantly.

“What?” I snap.

“I’m going to need your address,” he smirks, his lips twitching.

“Oh, right,” I mutter. Of course. “It’s up over on Planter Street, number seven.”

“Five minutes away, huh?” he murmurs, raising an eyebrow.

I blush, having forgotten about my little white lie. Home was a good twenty-minute walk from the club.

He pulls up outside of my house. My hand is already on the handle, ready to make a fast getaway.

“Wait so I can help you,” he insists, getting out of the car before I can escape.

Reluctantly, I wait for him to help me out of the car.

“Lean on my shoulder,” he instructs.

I do, letting him take most of my weight as he helps me inside. My ankle throbs as we reach the front door. The lights are all off, so Ariel is either in bed or not home.

I hand him my keys and wait for him to open the door, and I hobble inside. I stand there awkwardly, wanting him to leave and stay at the same time. He smirks at me, which sends flutters through my stomach. I have no idea what I’m excepting to happen, but he’s so damn hot I can’t think straight. How am I going to be around him all day long?

He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it casually over the back of an armchair. The suit he wears shows off his muscular frame and the dark blue shirt he wears is open at the neck. My gaze falls on his stubbled jaw and I wonder if he’s going for the rugged, sexy, just-out-of-bed look or if he just couldn’t be bothered shaving. Either way, he wears it well. He wears everything well. Lucas’s voice mocks me in my head. When was the last time I was thoroughly fucked? Too long ago. I internally groan. I need him to leave before I do something stupid.