I also couldn’t help stealing something else. A glance of her perfect, lick-worthy tits when she leaned over. That small glimpse sent blood rushing to my cock. I was hard instantly, so hard it practically hurt.
And I almost fucking kissed her.
Everything in that moment meant nothing; not the job, not the risk of someone seeing us, not even the fact that I'm her boss. I ignored all of it, ready to finish what we started all those years ago.
Touching my lips softly, I close my eyes, wishing I hadn't pulled back. Regret washes over my body, and all I can picture are her sexy, pouty lips. I see her eyes, the way they were looking up at me. All those stolen moments between us, past and present.
I should have fucking kissed her.
There's no way I could have expected my body to react the way it did. The pull is strong, the desire so heavy I'm not sure how long I'll be able to control myself around her. It's primal, like she's awoken a beast inside me.
I've never felt like this before. Not with any other woman. Not one of the girls I've dated since high school up to now has ever turned me on the way Dalia did today.
When Sandy sent me the list of potential new hires, Dalia Greene is the last name I thought I'd see. Yet, there she was, her information typed up all neat and organized, her art portfolio more incredible and amazing than I remember.
Her art is mind blowing. Even when we were younger, her talent was always way above everyone else, even my sister. I'd never tell Sandy that, but it's obvious to anyone who takes the time to look.
I was positive Sandy was up to something, because there's no way she'd actually hire Dalia in a million years. What kind of trick was she playing? What did she have up her sleeve? I put Dalia's name on the top of the list, positive that my sister would call me out on it.
Then Sandy proved me wrong. She did the exact opposite of what I thought. She hired the girl I've never forgotten, and the one she loved to torture. This could still be a game to her, one she's keeping from me.
Sandy's always been good at tearing people down. She's no stranger to hurting others to get what she wants. This company didn't just happen from good fortune. And I'm not proud to say I've seen it firsthand.Sandy's always been the type of person who never really sees you, she hardly ever sees anyone. If you're not an obstacle in her way that she has to knock down, then you’re just gunk on the bottom of her shoe. You'll never be on her radar.
Dalia's been off her radar for years. Sandy probably forgot all about her the day we graduated.
Now she's back, she's here. Dalia Greene is no longer a ghostly memory.
I really thought I could handle seeing her again, I honestly did. Obviously, I can't. Just the thought of her turns me on. She makes my skin hot and my stomach tight.
“Knock, knock.”
Speak of the devil. . . “Hey, San, what's up?” I ask as I keep packing up the stuff from meeting.
She takes a single step into the room. “Well, how'd it go with Mr. Fergeson? Did he like your pitch?”
“How do you think it went? You know when I'm on this stuff it gets done right.” Gathering the small stack of folders, I tuck them in my briefcase. “We got the contract to do all the advertising and graphics for his new sneaker campaign through next year.”
“Nice job,” she says halfheartedly, not really caring at all about the outcome. Her eyes are dull, lacking any real interest. I know that look, it's the look she gives when she really doesn't give a shit. “Listen,” she goes on to say immediately, “I want you to put the new girl—what's her name again?”
“Dalia.”
She really doesn't remember her. My sister is so single minded. She only focuses on herself.
“Right, Dalia. I want her on this campaign.” Sandy leans against the door, picking at the bed of one of her nails. She isn't even looking at me anymore. “Let's throw her in headfirst and see if she can swim.” Holding out her hand, she twists it back and forth, examining her nail polish.
“And if she can't?”
Her eyes float up to mine, her expression flat as she shrugs a shoulder. “We fire her ass. What else would we do? We wouldn't keep someone who can't even float, Lyle.”
Arching a brow, I angle my head. “Just like that? Fire her after one project? No second chances, no time to adjust. Really, Sandy?”
“Yeah,” she says, darting her eyes up to mine, and dropping her hand down weightlessly. “Just like that. Why? You have a problem with my decision?” Folding her arms over her chest, she gives me the look.
It's the same look our mother would give us when we were kids, the same look she's given me for years if I challenge her or don't agree with her. Her eyes squint hard, astute, and icy. Her brows crinkle and drop, causing sharp lines across her forehead.
“Sandy, come on. It just seems like basing the decision to fire someone off their first project isn't really fair. Why don't we give her something easier to start with, give her a little time to settle in before we challenge her? I mean, what's the point of hiring someone just to fire them a week later?”
Impatience fills her eyes like angry weeds, causing her head to fall heavily to her shoulder. “There's no point in wasting time and money on someone who sucks, Lyle, it's as simple as that. Put her on the Fergeson campaign, and fire her if she can't hold her own.”
She leans back on the sharp point of her heel and spins out the door. Lazily, she waves an arm in the air, and says, “You know what
