Happily Enemy After (Hawthorne Brothers 2)

The second possibility is that this is a genuine welcome present. An invitation to start over as coworkers. An olive branch. Maybe Asher has finally come to his senses or maybe he’s just grown tired of all our arguments. I know I have, which is why I wouldn’t mind a truce. It’s about time we set our personal feelings and opinions aside and work side by side for the good of the department and the company.

I really hope that’s what it is.

“Thanks,” I tell Dylan before bringing the box to my office.

Once I’m behind my desk, I turn my chair around so that I’m facing the wall before starting to unwrap Asher’s present. Most of the people on the floor have gone home, but I still want to make sure no one pries or gets the wrong idea about what I’m doing. There are enough nasty rumors about me going around already, thanks to Asher. I should at least ask him to do something about that if he’s serious about wanting to work together.

Finally, all of the wrapping comes off. My pulse races as I stare at the box for a moment.

What can it be?

I draw a deep breath before opening the box. I see what’s inside—a rod as pink as a flamingo’s feathers, about nine inches long and over an inch in diameter, with a small protrusion on the front shaped like a bunny. I recognize what it is a few seconds later, so I quickly close the box and glance over both my shoulders to make sure no one saw what I just did. There’s no one there. Still, my cheeks feel like they’re on fire, like they’re about to launch off my face. My temper starts to rise as well.

That Asher! That fucking jerk!

I should have known he’d never extend a truce. I should have known that an unreasonable man can’t come to his senses, that he can’t have a change of heart when he doesn’t have a heart in the first place. Damn it. Why did I dare hope? Each time I even consider the notion that he might be human, Asher just tramples all over me and rips me apart. And he’s fucking done it again.

Well, I won’t let him get away with it this time.

Huffing and puffing, I stomp to Asher’s office. Dylan is already gone, his desk cleared. Good. I can yell at Asher all I want, and I fully intend to.

I push the door to his office open and find him behind his desk. His gaze shifts from the screen of his laptop to me. Before he can say anything, I hurl his ‘present’ at his head as I unleash the words inside mine.

“Du hast den Arsch offen!”

Asher catches the box with one hand and looks at it.

“Oh, I see you got my present.” Then he meets my gaze with furrowed eyebrows. “But it seems you don’t like it. What’s wrong? Is it the color? Is it the size? Would you have wanted it longer? Thicker? Or maybe—”

“What the hell, Asher?” I express my dismay in English as I approach his desk. “What the fuck is this?”

“Oh, you don’t know what this is?” He opens the box. “I guess they don’t have these in Switzerland.”

To my shame, he holds the device up.

“This is a vibrator. A rabbit vibrator, specifically. It’s a sex toy that—”

I grab it out of his hand. “For fuck’s sake, will you shut up? I know what this is.”

“But you asked—”

“I’m asking what you’re playing at. Is this another attempt to get me to resign? Quite childish, don’t you think? Not to mention desperate.”

“It’s just a present,” Asher says calmly. “It was Ryker’s idea, actually.”

My eyebrows go up. “What?”

“The gesture, not the toy. That’s all me. I even picked it myself.”

My hands clench into fists. Here I am feeling horribly insulted, utterly humiliated, my temper bursting at the seams, and he thinks all this is a joke, one he’s thoroughly enjoying and feeling extremely proud of. Am I a joke to him? Are decency and honor a joke to him?

“You think all this is amusing, don’t you?” I hold up the vibrator. “You think this is funny?”

“No.” He clasps his hands on top of his desk. “I think it’s well made. It’s a work of art, really.”

I grit my teeth. “You…”

Just then, I hear a knock on the door. I turn my head. Before Asher can say anything, the door opens and Dylan comes in.

“I’m sorry. I just forgot to…”

He stops as he stares at my hand—my right hand, which still happens to be clutching Asher’s gift.

Shit.

I quickly tuck it behind me. But I know I’m too late. Dylan has already seen what I’m holding, and I can tell he knows what he saw. His eyes are wide with disbelief. His cheeks have a tinge of pink.