His Terms

“Yeah, it crossed my mind.” Sorcha licked her lips and noticed the way he lowered his gaze to watch the act.

“Let me ask you something, Sorcha. When you look at me what do you think?”

Was this a trick? A test?

“I’m not sure that I understand what you mean.” Her heart started beating fast again, and she shifted on her seat.

“Do I need to ask the question again? Rephrase it so that you can better understand it?” He was being a bastard again, and that was clear by the tone of his voice and this cocky fucking smirk that covered his face.

She felt her expression harden. Oh, she had a lot of things she could have said, a lot of things she had said in her mind and to Cora only. But they were things she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Rian Hartford, not unless she wanted to lose her job. “You’re my employer, and therefore I see an intelligent man that knows how to run a business.

“I see a man that took over his father’s company at a young age, made it even wealthier.” She was playing it safe, because she had no damn idea where he was going with all of this. He didn’t speak for a moment, and when he finally did he seemed angry, or at least the look on his face made her think he was.

“I didn’t ask for the sugarcoated explanation of what anyone could read in my bio. I want you to tell me what you see when you look at me. Off the record, without repercussions.” He started drumming his fingers on the table. Whether that was from nervousness or annoyance, she still hadn’t figured it out.

He seriously wanted her to call him out on the bullshit she thought about him? It seemed like a trick, and she didn’t speak for a second, and finally he exhaled roughly.

“Just speak.” He was most definitely angry now.

She sat up straighter, gritted her teeth, and narrowed her eyes. She so didn’t need to be talked to like this by some egotistical asshole that thought the world revolved around him.

He grinned, like did a full blown smile that had his straight white teeth showing, and totally changed the way he looked. “Exactly, Sorcha.”

Oh. Shit. She had totally said those words out loud. Her face heated, her palms started to sweat, and she contemplated bolting like a coward. Because wouldn’t that be the smart thing to do?

7

Rian watched her like a hawk about to swoop down and capture her in his talons. “I’m not going to fire you, Sorcha. In fact, knowing what you really think is very refreshing.” He grabbed the bottle of champagne, took the two flutes that sat on the tray beside it, and filled them halfway. He then grabbed the orange juice, and made mimosas before handing her one. Alcohol was the last thing she wanted, but the hair of the dog and all that.

“You’ll feel better.” He tipped his glass back, drank some, and watched her over the rim of the flute.

She took a long sip, and she did admit that after it was all said and done she felt marginally better as well.

“I am a cocky bastard, Sorcha, and can be cruel and unyielding when the time calls for it.”

She downed the rest of her mimosa. “We’ve eaten, had some drinks, so if you could please tell me why I’m here…” She swallowed, hating that she felt nervous like this. It was an uncomfortable sensation that made her feel not like herself. Whenever she was around Rian Hartford she felt weak, on display, and when he stared at her so calculatingly it was like there was no secret that she could keep from him.

But she didn’t tell him how she felt, didn’t show how unsteady he truly made her. Sorcha put up a wall of indifference and discontent, because when it came to a man like him there was nothing that was left out in the open.

He was authentic in his emotions, in his feelings and how he acted. He displayed his innermost basic urges that made a human what they are. And although they made him a bastard, a hard and unrelenting man, there was a part of her that could appreciate that side of him.

“Timothy,” Rian said in a raised, yet steady voice. A second later the cook entered the office again, cleared the dishes and food off the table, and then left them alone. “You’re anxious now to hear what I have to say, but I have a feeling you won’t feel the same way once you know my intentions.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, just stood and grabbed a manila envelope off of his desk. He faced her again, and then set the envelope on the table in front of her.