“Aye! For fucks sake!”
Holy shit.
I realize the end of the tube tucked under my arm has collided with something hard and I turn to find a man with short dark brown hair, the top tousled back with sides cut to a gradual low fade, clutching the back of his head. My jaw hangs open when he swivels his chair around in my direction.
Not lucky me.
He seems like a tough guy, and an intimidating one at that. His deep green eyes focus on mine with knitted brows. “I only had one brain cell left in me head and ya killed it!” His Cockney accent is new to me.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s alright, babe.” He cuts me off with a wink and his grin widens into a full blown smug smirk. The brazen bitterness from moments ago vanishes. “Ya can make it up to me one day. That’s fair, innit?”
“Bryce!” Giulio sneers. “Leave her alone and enough with the drama.”
Bryce dramatically gapes. “You, calling me dramatic? Have ya ever been personally hit in the head with one of them tunnels of death? My whole life flashed before me eyes.”
So this is what Giulio meant when he said to assist Bryce McCarson sparingly.
Giulio’s gaze meets mine. “Please ignore him. Was it easy to find?”
“Relatively.”
He thanks me as I set the tube down.
I’m mortified by the accident. At least Bryce is only an employee. I don’t want to imagine the outcome if instead of an in-house meeting, it was an important business deal with clients. The thought alone has me cringing inside.
Way to go, Valencia.
Across the table, two older women return to their discussion. They’re in deep conversation and swiping through an iPad between them. On the left side of Bryce sits Lance Hilton, Giulio’s closest friend and project manager at the company. On the right side of him is a man I don’t recognize, the same one who was speaking before my disturbance.
Lance shoots a kind smile my way and I mirror the action.
“Ya leaving without formally introducing yourself?’ Bryce nods towards my hand near the handle. A smirk takes over his face at my parted lips and all of a sudden those green eyes drop the length of my body, slowing at my waist and then again at my legs.
Breathe.
Out of the corner of my eye, I note Giulio watching Bryce, taking in his stance as the Englishman rises to his full height and extends a hand. I reluctantly shake it. Dark shadowed tattoos cross the back of his hand, but I can only make out a detailed rose and a thin cross.
“I think ya like ‘em. Miss…?”
“Mrs,” Giulio jumps in, a hiss in his delivery, “Mrs. Giannotti.”
Bryce takes one good look at me and chuckles. “Aye, Mrs. Giannotti. I thought you two were separated, nah? That’s what they all say, innit true?”
I nod. “We are separated. However, this isn’t a conversation for the office.”
“Well, in that case, a new bar opened up near—”
“For the love of god, Bryce.”
“Oi, shut your mouth, Giannotti! I weren’t even talking to ya. I’m talking to ya Missus.”
“Exactly,” Giulio grits. “You’re talking to my wife about going to a bar during work.”
“And the problem is…?”
“Guys! Let’s just let this go, okay?” My attempt to defuse the tension between the two men does little to help. They’re left glaring at each other, brooding with pressed lips. It’s as if they have some sort of personal vendetta against each other.
I’m definitely missing something.
There’s no denying the confidence that spills from Bryce McCarson. I’ve only known him for a few minutes and he’s already claimed himself to be the type of man who isn’t afraid to say exactly what’s on his mind. A no filter type of guy.
McCarson’s dominant personality intimidates me, even though it shouldn’t. It’s less the tattoos and rather his penetrating stare. How it begins diluted, destined to suck you in for all the wrong reasons. A hint of caramel blooms by his pupils, illuminating the lightest features.
“I ain’t trying to be rude…” Bryce begins. “But is it possible to call you something other than Mrs Giannotti?”
“You can call me Valencia.”
“Oh, does the ‘cia’ in ya name stand for ‘cute intelligent attractive’ woman?”
“Enough.” Giulio pushes off his chair with so much force his knees slam against the edge of the table. He doesn’t react to the pain, but I know it’s there in his clenched jaw. “Apologize to her right now, McCarson.”
McCarson’s eyes roll. “He doesn’t like to share you, does he? We’ll need to change that cause imma need ya from time to time, Valencia.” His cockney accent thickens and so does the damn plot. It’s wicked the way certain words like ‘you’ change to ‘ya’ whenever he becomes passionate. “You’ll allow me in, won’t ya? Allow me in ya schedule that is. I promise I ain’t that scary.”
I clear my throat.
Smile.
Nod.
Do anything!
I have never met anybody like him before, and now as I stare up at this man with this mysterious aura surrounding him, I’m pretty sure I never will again.
“Of course, Mr. McCarso—”
“Call me Bryce.”
“Okay, Bryce.”
“Hmm, nah. Actually, call me Mr. McCarson.”
“Noted. And once again, I’m so sorry about before, Mr. McCarso—”
“Nah. I don’t like it. Call me Bryce instead of—”
“JAMES!” Everybody turns to Giulio who’s fuming. He rubs his face before directing one hand in the Englishman’s direction. “Well, which one is it? Huh? Your first name? Your last name? Or, should we begin calling you by your middle name instead? You’re being preposterous! Sit down. Don’t you dare play around with anybody else, especially Valencia. Never. Ever. Fucking. Again. Understood?”
Woah.
I have never known Giulio to be this worked up. Especially not the way each word was presented with a staccato pause to emphasize his point. Bryce must really push his buttons.
The room is at a standstill, my heartbeat the only sound blanketed by the white noise. Everybody’s gaze is on Bryce, and
