My Cruel Lover (Wicked Poison 3)

“If you insist on staying …” He breathes out heavily. “Then get my lunch.” He shuts the door again with a slam.

Lunch?

Fuck!

What lunch?

My eyes search for the guy who helped me before, but he’s not there. I could try to work out what Mr. Harley eats, but I’m afraid he will just fire me again. So, I grab my purse and run down to Rylee’s office to find her lost in her work. It takes her a moment to notice me, but when she looks up, she smiles at me.

“What does your brother eat?” I ask.

Her brows scrunch, and she looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

“Eat? For lunch?” she asks. I nod. “He gets his own lunch, usually.”

“He ordered me to get him lunch. But there were no instructions as to what.”

Rylee offers me a sad smile and rolls her eyes.

“He has a wholemeal sandwich with ham and salad. The shop down below knows his order. It never changes. Just say his name and they will know what to do.”

“Thanks.” I run off and go straight downstairs. When I arrive at the shop, the line is long, so I keep checking the time to make sure I’m not taking too long. The only problem is, I am. I can’t push in front of everyone. They are all in a rush.

Yeah, but will they be fired for taking too long?

As the line slowly moves, I bite my lip. There are at least twenty people in front of me, and they are taking forever. My stomach grumbles, making me realize I haven’t eaten either.

It takes another ten minutes before the line moves a few more steps forward.

Suddenly, I notice everyone has stopped. Standing in front of the line is someone who wasn’t there before.

His suit is unmissable.

It’s immaculate.

Just as he is.

His normally gray eyes darken, and they narrow as he stares me down. I see him take hold of his sandwich and walk toward me. My heart rate picks up, waiting for him to get to me.

“I asked for my food over twenty-minutes ago. Did you get lost?” he seethes, and everyone goes so quiet you could hear a pin drop. “I own this place. You push in to get my food next time. Do you understand?”

I nod. It’s the only thing I seem to manage when I am around him. Where the hell is my backbone, I seem to have lost it.

“Are you all of a sudden mute, too?” he barks at me.

I flinch, and he shakes his head before he literally stomps off like some sort of petulant child.

The line moves, and I can feel everyone’s stare on me as we inch forward. When I finally arrive at the front of the line, the cashier gives me a look of pity, and I find I’m not even hungry anymore.

Chapter 3

Beckham

“Do you really have to be such an asshole?” Rylee asks, sitting opposite me, her drink in hand as she watches me. “She’s nice. Give her a chance.”

“Why are you sending me accolades for this woman,” I ask. My attention has now gone from the account I’ve been working on non-stop. It’s one of the biggest accounts in the country, and I am trying to acquire it.

“Do you even know she was an employee here before she got the job with you?” One of her brows slides up. “No, you wouldn’t, because you pay no one any attention.”

“You’re sitting here, are you not?”

She waves me off. “Please. I’m your sister. You can’t get rid of me.”

“Hurry this conversation along. I need to get back to work.”

“It’s late, and we’re the last two here. You should get a life.” Rylee stands and walks toward the door.

“I have a life.”

“Something apart from fucking things that have two long legs,” she sings as she shuts my door with a click.

I scrub a hand down my face, grunt, and then get back to work.

She’s sitting at her desk the next morning. I check my watch to make sure I’m not late. Nope, I’m here at my normal time, before everyone else, so I can get things done before any shit hits the fan.

But no, the woman with chocolate hair sits at her desk, head down, as she studies something on her computer. I silently stalk toward her, stopping in front of her desk to simply glare at her. She doesn’t notice me at first. Her eyes reading the screen before she pauses then glances up. I watch as her back straightens, and she turns slowly to face me.

She’s beautiful, in a classic way. Her lips are painted red, and she’s wearing a red suit jacket with a dark-colored skirt. Her heels are kicked off under her desk, which I noticed.

“Sir,” she greets me and offers a smile.

I stare.

Who is this woman?

“What’s your name?” I ask.