He stills at the door as if that’s something he hasn’t even considered. I can’t work and send emails if I’m not connected. He should be able to understand that.
“The password is on your desk. There’s nothing else you’ll need,” he informs me before disappearing out the door, leaving me in my new office.
My fingers itch to explore the room, to check out the books that are so expertly aligned, but I don’t. Like I said, I’m not a snoop, but I can’t deny that curiosity has taken hold of me. Perhaps a coffee will settle the inkling.
Moving through the house on my own is daunting because it’s big. Like, so big I could easily get lost. I love the white walls and the light gray tiles. Throughout, there are dark throw rugs that give the spaces contrast. The furniture is functional, comfortable, not what I expected to find. Most people who have money tend to go for the modern, sleek, silver, and glass furnishings rather than focusing on comfort.
In the kitchen, I open cupboards until I find mugs. Grabbing one, I set it under the Keurig, thankful I know how to work the damn machine. The last thing I want is for Julian to return to a kitchen floor drenched in coffee or boiling water.
As I make my way through the hallway again, I’m tempted to veer off and sneak a peek at what’s behind the multitude of doors. I’ve always been a curious person, and when someone told me not to do something, I always ended up doing it anyway.
I don’t think of it as snooping, but learning about your surroundings can be a good thing. At least, that’s what I tell myself. I focus on the office and settle behind my new desk to work.
With a smile, I pick up the batch of pages that have been printed for me and start getting to the details, hoping that before Julian returns, I’ll have finished. That would impress him.
I don’t hear him enter the room. My focus is on the words in front of me as I circle names, add minor pricing changes, and tweak the information he has with a pencil.
When he sets down a large Starbucks mug, I practically leap into the air, sending the pencil flying. The gentle sound of it falling on the rug steals the silence for a second as our gazes lock.
“I figured you might like a coffee,” Julian tells me.
“Thank you,” I say, nodding slowly. I can’t help but notice how handsome he is, which is completely unprofessional. He bends to retrieve the pencil, setting it on the desk in front of me, and I take note of his hands. The veins protrude, and I notice the splotches of color on his fingers. “Are you hurt?” The question tumbles from me before I can take it back. And when I lift my eyes to his, he offers me a small smile.
The buttons of his shirt are open, and my eyes inadvertently drink him in. The way his collarbone moves and the way the muscles of his shoulders tense and release. Every dip and peak I can see from my viewpoint have me wanting to see more. He looks like he’s been sculpted from the finest marble.
“No, I was painting last night,” he says, shocking me. I didn’t expect him to share something about himself, and the thought of him in a studio, splashing paint across a canvas, takes hold of me.
Tipping my head to the side with interest, I ask, “You paint?”
“I thought you would’ve done your research,” Julian snips before turning to leave me in the office once more. I want nothing more than to snap at him. His cold demeanor is going to get to me. I’ve never met someone so angry all the time.
“If there was something about you online, I would’ve. But there isn’t.” My biting tone has him stalling on the threshold. He glances at me from over his shoulder, his eyes practically digging through me, trying to burrow themselves into the very heart of me.
“Is that an admission to you googling me?”
My cheeks heat at his question. I shouldn’t have said what I did, but this man truly is bringing out the brat in me. He doesn’t move, waiting for an answer I don’t want to give. But I know I’ll have to because I’ve already admitted to it.
“I needed to know the person I was coming to interview with,” I tell him, sitting back in my office chair. “And normally, it’s far more interesting than anything I found on you.”
“I like my privacy.”
“That you do because all I learned before I walked in here yesterday was that you had inherited this historical home from your father. The gallery included, and you’re one of the most brutal art critics in the world.”
That makes him smile. Even though my anger has taken hold of me, I can’t deny the man is attractive— the perfect Adonis, with the worst temperament.
“That’s all you need to know.”
Chapter 7
Julian
This is ridiculous.
She’s my employee, and yet all I can think about is bending her over that desk and showing her just how creative I can be. Her gaze heated every inch of me. I could feel her like she was practically touching me. Her gentleness, those delicate fingers, and those plump lips that shimmer with gloss had every nerve in my body alive.
Since Shay, I haven’t really looked at a woman. I haven’t even considered having someone in my house, seeing her daily, and talking to her. Opening up to someone isn’t what I do. I didn’t even do it with my wife. Why the fuck would I do it with a stranger?
This is utter fucking bullshit. I move into the studio and shut the door, hoping the loud bang will ensure she
