The Sweetest Oblivion (Made 1)

I paused.

Explain rationality to my sister and ease her heartbreak a bit, or rip the Band-Aid off?

“Right.”

She nodded. “I’ll be down soon.”

I was downstairs, turning a corner in the hall near the library when I collided with something warm and solid. A breath escaped me as I was forced a step back. I knew who I’d run into before I had to look.

Russo.

Unease drifted through my body like a kindled flame. We were no longer in a foyer filled with people, but completely alone. It was so quiet I could hear my heart beating in my chest.

I took another step back as if to get some footing, but it was mostly just to put myself out of his reach, some kind of survival instinct kicking in.

He stood there in a gray suit and a smooth black tie. He was larger than life in this hallway. Or maybe this hall was just small? No, it looked like a normal-sized hallway. Ugh, get a grip, Elena.

He regarded me like someone would watch Animal Planet—like I was another species and possibly dull entertainment. He had a cell phone in one hand at his side, so I assumed he must have been making a private call.

This hallway was more of an alcove made of arches behind the staircase. Some large potted plants blocked our view from the main hall, and a green glass lamp on a side table cast the area in dim light. However, it was bright enough to see the flicker of impatience behind his gaze.

“You going to stand here and stare at me all day, or are you going to move?”

I blinked.

“And if I say stand here and stare at you?” It was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and I instantly wished I could reach out and take my words back. I’d never spoken to someone like that—let alone a boss—in my life. My stomach dipped like a tilt-a-whirl.

With the phone in his hand, a thumb came up to run across his jaw. I imagined he did that while thinking of how he was going to kill a man.

He took a small step forward.

As if we were the same poles of a magnet, I took one back.

He dropped his hand to his side, the slightest bit of amusement coming to life in his eyes as if I’d just done a trick that entertained him. I suddenly had the distinct feeling I didn’t want to be his entertainment. And an even stronger feeling that I already was.

“Thought the Sweet Abelli was sweet.”

How did he know my nickname?

I didn’t know what came over me, but I suddenly felt free of that name—maybe because he’d never met that girl before. I wanted to be someone different. Especially to him, for some inexplicable reason.

“Well, I guess we were both fooled then. Here I was thinking a gentleman apologized when running into a woman.”

“Sounds like someone’s been making assumptions again,” he drawled.

An odd thumping began in my chest, and I shook my head. “It wasn’t an assumption.”

He took a step forward, and once again I took one back.

He slipped his hands into his pockets as his gaze fell down my body. It was hardly leering and more observant, like I was in fact another species and he was wondering if I was edible.

His eyes narrowed on my pink heels. “You think you’ve got some proof, huh?”

I nodded, feeling strangely breathless under his scrutiny. “My mamma said you acted the perfect gentleman at church.”

“I did act the perfect gentleman.”

“So, it’s a matter of if you want to be one?”