“This is the first and only time I will cower to you,” he tells me, the confidence in his tone causing a tremble to shoot through me. “I run my gallery the way I see fit. And yes, I’m not the easiest person to be around, but I have rules as well, like my employees obeying my requests.”
My brows shoot together. “Requests and demands are two completely different things. Perhaps you should look them up,” I bite out, spin on my heel, and walk toward the gate. I’m so angry, my hands are trembling so much, I know if I were holding anything, I’d drop it. Thankfully, my laptop bag is slung over my shoulder, or that would certainly be on the ground.
“Be back after lunch,” Julian shouts at me, but I don’t turn to look at him. I’m far too infuriated right now, and I know if I cast a glance his way, my resolve would falter. I just need time to breathe. I need to be far away from him and his nice-smelling cologne and his stupid handsome face.
Reaching the main road, I stop, looking around, taking in every store close by. When my gaze lands on a small coffee shop, I make my way toward it. Perhaps a sugary-sweet latte would help calm me the hell down.
After placing my order, I stroll down the street to the park I glimpsed earlier, and settle on a bench with my drink and a muffin. The double chocolate will not be good for my waistline, but when I’m angry, I tend to binge on sweet treats. Tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up early and go for a run, I think to myself as I bite into the fluffy confection.
I’ve never been so annoyed, so goddamned irritated at someone. Julian is a special breed of brooding asshole and sexy Adonis. It’s infuriating because even though I have to be angry at how he spoke to me, I can’t be. He doesn’t want to lose me, clearly, but he also needs to learn I’m not a pushover. If you treat me right, I’m a loyal employee. But I don’t stand for being spoken to like I was.
Once I finish the muffin, I pick up the cup and head back toward the house. I don’t rush; I take my time, meandering down the drive, taking in the flowers lining the long path toward the door.
The house is gorgeous, the architecture making me itch to learn more. With the white pillars that seem to hold up the second-floor balcony, it truly is one of those classic plantation homes.
The wrap-around porch is painted black, contrasting the white of the house perfectly. A porch swing hangs off to the right side of the house, and on the left is a bench. This one, a small wooden one, with cushions that look good enough to fall asleep on.
Potted plants of every color line the wall, showing off bright blues, pinks, and yellow. I wonder briefly what it would be like to grow up in a house like this. Running around as a kid, playing in the humungous garden. It must’ve been magical. I can’t help but smile, thinking about my mother.
I should do some research and find her childhood home. She never once gave me the address, but I’m sure if I headed into the town records, I’d be able to find it. Going back to where she grew up is a dream I’ve had for a long while. After my stint with rebelling—after her death—I’ve wanted nothing more than to connect with her on a deeper level. To learn about who she was before she met my dad and had me.
“You came back.” The deep drawl of Julian startles me out of my thoughts, and I look up to see he’s changed into a pair of jeans that only seem to show off his lean, muscled thighs. The dark-blue crewneck top he’s donned fits him like a glove, and my hungry gaze eats up every inch of the six-foot-five god.
This is ridiculous. How can he be that hot and so damn annoying?
“You said after lunch,” I tell him, not wanting to return to the argument we had earlier. I want to put it in the past. I always hated fighting, and this time it’s no different.
“I did.” He nods. Moving toward me, he settles on the bench, leaning his elbows on his knees, which puts him in my eye-line. “Like I said earlier, I’m sorry. And I am,” he tells me, honesty raw in his dark eyes.
“I just hope that it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t. I’ll stay out of your way, and you will learn to stay out of mine. My studio is off-limits to anyone,” he says. The way he’s regarding me tells me there’s more to that story than he’s offering up. But like I said earlier, I won’t snoop.