The Gentleman

ROSE

Walking out, I continued to my office, itching to escape his dark gaze. It dawned on me that the more he saw me, the higher the chances were that he’d recognize me.

That’s if he hasn’t already.

Pushing open the clear glass door to my office, I huffed at the sight of my messy desk, documents piled on top of one another in a haphazard heap.

Dropping my manuscript to the ground with a heavy thud, I busied myself organizing the papers, scrunching some up into tight balls before aiming blindly behind me in the direction of the bin.

The uncomfortable heat of my makeshift mask drew sweat out of my pores. I bit my lips, hesitating for a split second before yanking the knot loose, letting the fabric fall free around my neck.

As the cool air soothed over my skin, I continued to throw balls of bunched up contracts and documents over my shoulder, pausing when my eyes fell on the front cover of an ~Azure magazine.

My heart kicked against my ribs at the sight of Daniel Rossi’s alluring face pasted over the magazine. I could almost feel the sharpness of his jaw beneath my fingertips as I held the magazine up, examining it.

With an eyeroll, I chucked the thick booklet behind me, my shoulders tensing when I heard a grunt.

He muttered a curse, his deep voice sending a shudder through me. Shakily, I hurried to tie the scarf back over my face, turning to face him.

He peeled the tattered magazine off his face, arching his brows.

“As a boss, I’ve had many who disliked me, Miss Millar,” he said, “but I’ve never had a magazine thrown at me.” He muttered the last word in a faint whisper.

“I’m sorry?”

He ignored me, instead giving me a once over. His stance turned domineering, a disapproving frown appearing on his forehead.

“I expect this mess to be cleared by the time the Lionharte representatives leave.”

I nodded, swallowing audibly as I stared at the piles of torn and balled up papers lying beside his leather shoes.

The pages flattened out beneath his advancing steps, the spicy wood scent of his cologne clouding my sanity in a haze.

I took an automatic step back, my back pushed up against my desk.

“I’d also like it if you handed in your current manuscript.” He paused at a sensible distance from me. “Of course, the competition aspect is optional, but it may give you the upper hand if and when it comes to making more job cuts.”

A bitter taste spread through my mouth, “So you’re just going to keep firing and replacing people? Do you realize how many people have lost their livelihoods?”

I immediately bit down on my lip, swallowing a gasp at my sudden burst of temper.

His jaw ticked.

“I don’t leave my employees stranded. They’ve all been offered jobs at a sister company.” A warning laced his words, his words echoing across the glass walls of the office in a commanding tone.

“I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to offend.”

“But offend, you have.”

My eyes dropped apologetically, my cheeks reddening as I thought of what would happen if he ever discovered who I was.

The woman he fucked. The woman who ran.

I almost wished I hadn’t looked up when my eyes clashed back into his, an odd sensation settling in my gut. I scoffed internally as he walked out, closing the door silently behind him.

Get over yourself, Rose. He probably doesn’t even remember.

With that notion settled, I busied myself with clearing the mess in my office, flashes of the night before continuing to warm my covered cheeks.

The hours flew by, the relentless ticking of the clock measuring an oncoming migraine.

Stuffing the remaining documents into the bin, I swung my bag over my shoulder, dragging my steps, half-asleep, to the scent of coffee.

In the cafeteria, I watched the manager with a sudden curiosity as she fiddled with the coffee machine, “Hi, Melinda.”

She flashed me a pointed glare, grunting her response.

Swallowing my annoyance at her rudeness, I cleared my throat, “I heard there was some sort of competition going on?”

“Yes. The deadline’s in six months.”

“What’s the prize?” I questioned, trying to hide the excitement in my voice; her eyes narrowed at my glee.

“If you win, you get published.” She retorted sharply before turning to leave the staff room.

My dreams came to life before my eyes, the chance of getting published only a small step away. Adrenaline flowed through my veins from the news of the competition and—along with the caffeine—fueled my rapidly depleting energy.

In a trance, I walked out of the staff room with a wide smile on my face.

The smile slipped right off my lips as soon as I spotted him; his tall, lean figure stood in a heated conversation, the phone clasped to his ear in a deathly grip.

Hastily, I brought my hands to my face—my scarf had dropped dangerously low to my chin, completely revealing my features.

His eyes traveled to me before narrowing at something the caller said. Taking that as my chance, I wove the white scarf tightly back into place.

My heart raced as he suddenly turned back to face me, confusion simmering in his dark eyes. He ended the call, his eyes piercing mine.

“Rose?”

But I was gone before he could say another word.

Racing to the lifts, I jabbed impatiently at the buttons before letting the metal doors close on his breathtaking face, a long sigh of relief rushing out of my lungs.

***

The yearly Christmas lights adorned the roads as I parked in front of my house, the muffled blare of festive music echoing from one of the houses down the street.

It dawned on me that this time last year, I was the one with the blaring music and crowded house.

But this year, it was Melinda’s turn, and she’d never invite me to the annual office Christmas party, especially because she was the one hosting it.

I scoffed amusedly as the car beeped, locking behind me, my keys jingling in my hands as I put one in the keyhole on my front door. Melinda hosting a party. Now ~that~ would be entertaining.

There’d be no music, and she’d hand out assignments instead of gifts.

Still, I wanted to be somewhere and with someone other than the blank walls and the plain furniture of my house.

“Merry Christmas, Rose,” I whispered to myself, shrugging out of my coat and settling on the sofa, my laptop cushioned on my legs as I began to work through the dozens of unread emails in my inbox.

My eyebrows shot up at one in particular. An email from Melinda at this time could only mean one of two things: some extra assignments or an invitation.

Dear Rosalie,

As you know, this year, I am hosting the annual Christmas party. Quite frankly, I’m not about to hire people to help decorate my place, so if you could come over at 6, it would be appreciated.

Regards,

Melinda

P.S. If you come, I’ll reduce your workload for the week.

My lips turned down in a frown. It wasn’t even an invitation. She wanted me to do the chores.

Like hell.

Slamming my laptop shut, I folded my arms, gazing out the windows at the bright lights curtaining the roads. Every house was brimming with guests, rows and rows of cars lined up alongside the road.

With a huff, I averted my gaze only to have it fall on the white scarf I’d worn today, its blank shade hanging over the edge of the table.

A shaky sigh drifted past my parted lips as thoughts of him, and those heavenly lips and the sinful things they did to me, clouded my mind.

With a sudden jolt, I shot out of my seat and was out the door within minutes. I had to get my mind off Daniel.

Even if it meant decorating Melinda’s place.