Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107660 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“Look who was the shining star at this meeting,” he goaded.
“We can’t all be clouds of darkness,” I snarked.
“And we can’t all be spoiled princesses.”
“I’d rather be a princess than an arrogant as—”
“Lucian?” Emily called with the perfect interruption.
Somehow, all the times I imagined seeing Lucian after that night, I never pictured us bickering like children at each other’s throats. And despite appreciating her interruption before we spiraled, I hated the way she smiled at him. Or how he smiled back. Or how I even cared that they smiled at each other because why the hell should I care?
Jesus, I groaned.
Lucian shifted his attention to Emily, allowing space for her to notice me. “Oh, hello, Miss Quinn.”
“Hello, Miss Green. It’s good to see you again,” I greeted cordially, shoving back every ridiculous ounce of negative feeling I had no right to feel.
She glanced between us. “I hope I didn’t interrupt an important conversation.”
“Not at all,” Lucian assured.
Despite his innocent tone, his devious smirk put me on edge, bracing for impact.
“Miss Quinn was just leaving to copy these for me.” He held out an inch thick file folder. “Right, Miss Quinn? Or did you want to finish what you were saying before?”
I glared at the files, then back up at him.
He assumed I wouldn’t call him an asshole in front of an employee—but I had no problem calling someone what they truly were. “Copy them yourself, asshole. I’m not your secretary.”
With no regrets, I made my exit.
CHAPTER 8
ASPEN
My eyes bounced between the clock and Lucian’s mouth. I zoned out the last of the interview, having already dismissed the woman across from us for the position, and stole glances to study each curve and dip of his lips as they formed around the words.
Despite the lingering embarrassment of him finding me at my weakest, I couldn’t stop thinking of those few moments when everything calmed. The tension shifted to something different—something soothing.
And then sexual.
I couldn’t stop wondering what would have happened if his phone never went off.
Would we have kissed?
What would his lips have tasted like?
Would his kiss be as demanding as his words?
Would they be as arrogant and condescending?
Each question sent jolts to my core, leaving me confused about what version of myself liked the idea of experiencing a kiss like that—leaving me shocked that that version existed.
Lucian Daire wasn’t just fucking with my life and business anymore—he was fucking with my mind too.
I ground my jaw and forced myself to look away, focusing my attention on the woman in a lime green pantsuit with clashing copper hair. She suggested gothic-country-jazz as the next big thing and that we invest half our profits into pushing it on the scene.
I hated her.
I hated that she even made it to the interview process. I hated sitting there pretending like anything she said after her initial statement mattered. I hated that we had to have the stupid interviews to begin with.
All because of Lucian.
I hated him too.
I hated him the most.
Each interview over the past week pushed my ire higher and higher. Sitting next to him, waiting for him to bring up what happened, only to be faced with more verbal warfare every chance we got.
At least this was the last interview of the day, and then I could escape.
I eyed the clock. Six-fifty-two. Fifty-two excruciating minutes on a Friday night for one asinine interview.
“Thank you, Miss Quinn and Mr. Daire.” Darlene stood and held out her hand. I shook it with more exuberance than necessary, elated for it to be over.
Lucian walked her to the door and shut it behind her.
“Do you even care?” he asked, dropping all politeness as he sneered at me.
I stood and fully faced him. “Excuse me?”
“Do. You. Even. Care?” he repeated, slowly prowling across the room. “You sat there checked out for the last thirty minutes. Completely unprofessional.”
“Oh, please. She was a waste of our time, and you know it as well as I do.”
“It doesn’t matter. She came and expected our attention for the full interview. It’s courtesy to not waste her time.”
“But you can waste mine?” I turned the tables. “It’s seven-o’clock on a Friday night because you couldn’t be here until this evening. I offered to do the interview alone, but noooo…”
“I had a business meeting. You’re not the only company that requires my attention.”
We closed the gap between us with each back and forth. “See, that’s the thing. We don’t need your attention. We don’t need you at all.”
“And yet, here I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it.” He stretched his arms wide, presenting himself like a gift. “Despite your knowledge of the business and company, we are doing this together. So, you waited for my availability.”
“Exactly. My knowledge of the business. My knowledge of the company. Not yours—some condescending asshole who thinks just because he can buy companies as he pleases that he knows who’s the best for us,” I snapped, my voice increasing with each statement. “I’m the one who is sitting here trying to find a person for the job that is supposed to be mine. And as soon as that woman showed how useless she was, I let the less knowledgeable interviewer take the reins.”