“First of all, I don't really give a shit what they think. I'm their damn boss. I'm half of this damn place, same as you. And secondly, no one else has ever done what she has in the amount of time she's been here. Maybe this will be a good motivator for them.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I puff up.
I'm not backing down from her. This isn't her choice to make.
Sandy's really starting to annoy me. Why is she so against taking an employee out to lunch? That's all Dalia is, an employee.
Is that really all she is? The question sits on my brain, but I don't answer it. I don't need to.
“Or,” she says, drawing out each letter, “maybe there's something else going on between you two.” She dances two fingers back and forth in front of my face.
Scoffing, I scratch the tips of my fingers over my scalp, and groan. “Come on, Sandy, don't start with this crap. There's nothing going on between us. I just think she deserves to be recognized for the work she's done. If the others don't like it, fuck them, I don't care. I'm not going to ignore the fact that she's given us recognized brands to work with, and not just some little mom and pop places that no one's ever heard of. With her talent, people are going to know who we are, and if they don't, they'll learn quick.”
“Well, I'm telling you no. You're not taking her out to lunch.”
“You—” I say sharply, using a hand to brush her to the side of the hallway as I take a strong step forward. “You don't get to tell me what to do. We're partners here, which means I make decisions too.”
“Fine, do what you want.” She flaps her hands in the air, darting her eyes to the floor. “You know better than to get involved with an employee. . .” She drops her arms to her sides, brows folding up into hard arches.
I know what she's doing, and I'm not getting sucked into it. She isn't a victim here. I'm not going against her, this isn't me being defiant. She's not our mother, and I don't owe her anything. We're equals. Sandy doesn't get to make all the rules.
I'm not going to give her the satisfaction of a response. Taking another step forward, I reach past her for the door handle. I'm done with her lecture, she isn't my boss, no matter how much she wants to have total control.
“And,” she says louder, catching my attention, “you definitely know better than to get involved with a girl like her.”
Looking back at her over my shoulder, I snarl, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Sandy smiles, resting her hands on her hips happily. “You know what it means, Lyle, don't act stupid. We're treasure, she's trash, nothing's changed, we've just allowed the lines to blur between us, that's all. It doesn't mean she's one of us now.”
“What the hell is your problem, Sandy? This girl is making you money, she's landed us two huge deals in the short time she's been here, and you want to act like she doesn't deserve something for it?”
She innocently holds up her hands, palms facing out. “I'm just calling it as I see it. But don't worry, I know you know better than to fuck this up. So go, have fun on your lunch date.” Sandy gives me a wink, then heads off in the direction of her office.
Well, she definitely knows who Dalia is, there's no question about that now.
But what the fuck is her problem?
The way she's acting, the tone of her voice, she almost sounds jealous. And not jealous of wishing she was the one who had brought in these clients. She sounds jealous of me taking Dalia to lunch.
That's ridiculous. Why the hell would she be jealous of that?
Shaking off the idea, I push Sandy out of mind, and open the door. I'm not going to let her ruin this for Dalia. She deserves to be recognized, and that's what I'm doing.
“So, where do you want to go for lunch?”
“I don't know, what are the options?”
“Anything you want, just name the place.”
“Anything?”
“Yup, anything.” Stretching my fingers over the back of the chair, I lean forward. “It's on me.”
“Oh well, now that changes everything.” Dalia smiles, causing my stomach to clench and my cock to jerk. Giggling, she taps a finger against her chin and looks up at the ceiling. “I know,” she says, bobbing her head up and down.
She picks a nice little bistro off Fourth and Main. Taking her down into the parking garage, I hit the button to unlock my car.
“Are you sure we should do this?”
“Do what?”
“Go out for lunch? I mean, won't people talk?”
“Fuck them if they do. I don't work for them, they work for me.” Shrugging a shoulder, I pull open her door for her.
Dalia laughs, and that fucking laugh sends the blood straight from my brain to my dick. “That's true.” Dalia drops down into the seat. Using the tips of her fingers, she runs them across the dashboard. “I really love this car, it's gorgeous.”
Smiling down at her, I say, “You keep going like you have been, maybe I'll buy you one someday.”
Her eyes jump to mine, head tilting a hair. “Yeah, no thanks.” Slipping her fingers into the door handle, she closes the door for herself.
Climbing into the front beside her, she has her hands tucked under her legs. Her eyes are set on the windshield, and her back is completely straight.
“Nervous?” I ask her.
“With you? No. I mean your little show in the break-room was something, but I'm not nervous with you. With your sister on the other hand, she
