Perfect Chaos

She hides her secret smile and looks away, while I talk my cock down under the table. “Next,” I say, deciding the only way I’m going to get through this meeting with my sanity intact is by keeping my eyes off her. I force them away before I lose my mind or anyone becomes suspicious. Lainey’s right. I need to find the will to behave while we’re at work. Fight my instinct to look at her and touch her. But once we’re out of here, the gloves are off.I feel like I’ve been slowly tortured by the time Sal calls a close on our meeting an hour later, and I’m grateful when Lainey is the first to leave, not giving me even a glance as she hurries out of the conference room. It’s probably for the best, though I’m still disappointed.

Once everyone has filed out, Sal takes a seat next to me and sighs. “I’m fucking bummed about Adidas, man.”

I only just hold back my eye-roll. Are we still rehashing that? One fucking deal, for Christ’s sake. “We’re not going to go out of business over one deal, Sal. We have an eighty percent win rate. It’s not like the design department is struggling for projects to sink their teeth into.”

“It’s not the deal, it’s who we lost to. Why aren’t you more bothered? You hate Taylorson Greeves.”

I stand, scooping up my phone. “I am bothered. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it show. You shouldn’t either. It’s bad for staff drive.” I head for the door.

“Hey, where were you this morning?”

“Suit fitting for my cousin’s wedding.” I have no idea where that genius excuse came from, but I’m giving myself a serious pat on the back for it.

“Oh, by the way, you’ve been summoned to dinner next Wednesday night at our place. Seven?”

“Seven,” I confirm, leaving Sal behind in the conference room.

“Hi, Ty,” Violet sings, coming toward me with a projector in her hands.

“You should have one of the blokes shifting that for you,” I say, taking it from her arms. “Where are you heading?”

“Thanks.” She brushes her hands off and straightens her skirt. “Conference room.”

“I’ve got it.” I backtrack to the conference room and push my way through the door, Violet following. “Which end?”

“Far, please.” Violet spots Sal still sitting at the head of the conference table and smiles brightly. I watch closely as I make my way to the end of the table, seeing her faff with her blonde bob, color creeping into her cheeks. “Having a meeting on your own?” she asks.

For the first time today, Sal smiles as I push the projector onto the table. “Just making a few notes. I wanted to chat with you about Christianson Walker’s social media strategy for the coming year.”

“I’m all yours.” Violet plonks herself in a seat next to Sal. “I’ve been working on a few ideas.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” I say, heading back out, hearing a bit of banter behind me. I turn as I close the door, flashing a raised brow to Sal, who completely ignores me. What’s going on? There’s definitely flirting happening there. It makes me feel . . . uncomfortable.

As I wander up the corridor, I see Gina up ahead boarding the elevator. I look down at my watch, noting it’s gone midday already. My brain steers me toward the kitchen, and I grab a cup, shoving it under the spout of the coffee machine, stepping back as I stab at the button that’ll dispense me an Americano. And my tummy growls, reminding me to fill it. I grumble under my breath, watching my coffee dribble out of the machine.

“Yo, Ty.” Mac bowls into the kitchen and my head drops tiredly. I haven’t the patience right now to try and explain my odd behavior this morning. “You were late today.”

Aren’t people being observant today? “I had things to do before work.” So what if I was late. Why’s everyone making such a big deal about it? I grab my coffee and leave. I want to lock myself away in my office and beaver away so the day goes faster, and I can indulge in Lainey again.

As I’m passing through the kitchen door, someone rounds the corner. Fast. And we collide, my coffee slipping from my hand and spilling everywhere. Lainey yelps, pulling her shirt-dress away from her body and bending forward. “Oh my God, that’s hot.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I reach forward and . . . pull away again.

“Fucking hell, Tyler.” She scowls at me, and I wilt on the spot, my proverbial tail going between my legs. “Look where you’re bloody going,” she snaps, fanning the front of her dress to circulate some cold air and soothe the burn.

“Sorry,” I murmur, feeling guilty as fuck. “I didn’t see you.”