It didn't click in my brain when I applied online or came for my interview. Not once did either of them cross my mind when I saw the company name.
The brother and sister duo are the epitome of my fucking nightmares. Sandy the bully, and Lyle, my high school crush, who left me behind all those years ago.
What the fuck is happening right now?
Sandy glares at me with hard eyes, the same angry eyes she's always had. “You're late,” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest as she tips her chin up.
My eyes move from her to Lyle, then back to her. I don't know if I should smile and introduce myself, or if she's having flashbacks of her own right now.
Lyle shifts away from the window, his movements easy and relaxed. Then he notices me, like really notices me. Stopping in his tracks, he sucks in a quick breath of air. I watch him as he freezes, his chest, arms and legs, all staying nervously still.
Does he recognize me?
Does she recognize me?
I don't know what to do right now. I don't know if either of them remembers me at all. The look on her face says no. The way she's holding herself, the way her eyes have no depth or recognition.
I'm sure if she did, she would have busted out laughing, maybe thrown some of her horrible nicknames for me out, then fired my ass.
But Lyle, Lyle's eyes are different. He's not just looking at me, he sees me. His cobalt blue eyes are bright as the sky and deep as the ocean. I'm trapped in them, falling hard and fast.
My heart flutters with the same energy it used to when I was a teenager, when my feelings for him controlled the pace of my heart and woke up the butterflies in my stomach.
“This is not the way you want to start with our company—to be honest, it's fucking terrible—” Sandy leans her face closer, her brows crinkling into her nose. “Do you even know who I am?” Her jaw hangs to the side as she glares at me. “I own this fucking place.” Her head jerks on her shoulders as she points a finger at the floor. “Every wall, every room, every piece of furniture here belongs to me. And now you, you belong to me, too, for as long as you work here. But how long? Well…” she throws her arms out to the side, knocking a cup loaded with pens to the floor. “That's all up to.”
Sandy glances down at the pens, then back up to me. I tilt my head, unsure what she expects me to do. I'm certainly not going to clean up her mess, that's not what I'm here for. I wasn't hired as her maid.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I kick my leg out, and clear my throat, angling my chin higher. I'm not that shy little girl anymore who's just going to bow down because she gives me the stink eye.
I have a backbone.
Taking a step closer to me, she kicks a few of the pens with the tip of her shoe, sending them rolling across the floor.
“Do you want this job? Like, really want this job. . .” she's fumbling with her words, searching for something, and suddenly it hits me. I know what she's looking for—my name.
She really doesn't remember me. . .
“Dalia,” I say. “My name's Dalia, and yes, I wouldn't be here if I didn't want this job.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't have to worry about her bringing up all the shit from our past, and everything that has no place in my life now. We can just leave high school where it belongs, in the past.
Although as I'm standing here, staring into her stale pupils, listening to her snarl at me like I'm a maid and not the new employee of a high-end graphic design company, I'm not sure what's scarier: being in her shadow now or being in her shadow back then.
Lyle's watching, not saying a word, just lingering in the background, listening to his sister's tirade. But that look, that look on his face is more than enough for me to know he doesn't recognize me either.
He can't, it's not possible. The Lyle I remember would never look at me the way he is, not with this much lust, this much heat, this much desire.
Because this Lyle, the Lyle that I'm meeting here, is looking at me like hungry jaguar ready to pounce. His eyes rake my body, devouring every inch with greedy blinks.
Leaning against the wall, he tucks his arms under each other, and I'm floored by how strong he looks. The muscles under his sleeves threaten to bust free as they roll into solid mountains. The seams strain to stay connected, and the buttons bite into the fabric.
His eyes pierce me where I'm standing, squeezing around my lungs and making it hard to breathe. I'm trying, I'm trying so hard to not let my skin turn crimson. But Lyle Vox is a man who's never made that easy.
And right now, there is no doubt in my mind that he has more than just thoughts about work going through his head.
Sandy takes a step toward the window, crossing her arms over her chest again. She lets her eyes drift to look out through the window as she keeps talking.
She hasn't changed at all, that's easy to see. Talking is something she's always been good at. She always had a comeback for anything. I swear, she just likes to hear herself most of the time.
“If you want this job like you say you do, and you expect to go places here, I suggest you don't start off by being late.” Scoffing, she looks down at the street. “If there's one thing I find fucking rude and disrespectful, it's an employee who thinks they can make their own schedule.”
I'm half
