Chapter 8

The next morning, I got out of bed feeling more tired than I usually felt before the submission of a project. I hadn’t gotten any sleep, and I still needed to get through a ton of research.

Marla came to pick Zoe up at eight in the morning, and since then, I’d sat around the house in my pajamas and robe, cradling a lukewarm mug of coffee in my hands.

From the corner of my eye, I could see my computer, imagining it giving me a stern look while I tried to avoid its gaze. I needed to get my work done, but my mind couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t convince myself to just get up and sit down in front of it. I couldn’t stop thinking about Casper Argent and what happened in his office building and how I had masturbated thinking about him. I wasn’t even angry any more, just upset with myself.

When the doorbell rang, I jumped off my couch. I had a feeling that it was Marla and Zoe again. Maybe she had forgotten something in my apartment.

So, I rushed to the door and swung it open without giving it another thought. When I saw him standing in front of me, my body froze. I was instantly aware of my matted hair, my unwashed face and panda eyes, my three-day-old pajamas and the robe with coffee stains on it.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, like I was accusing him of killing my imaginary cat.

Casper looked wonderful and smelled of freshly pressed linen. His hair was as beautifully styled as ever, like he was ready for the paparazzi. He was in a pair of fawn tailored pants with a casual dark-checkered shirt neatly tucked in at the waist. He still had that sparkling wicked smile on his face. His angular jaw looked freshly shaved.

“I thought I should apologize for my behavior yesterday,” he said in that same calm, soothing voice of his. In comparison, my voice sound high-pitched and nervous, like a mad woman’s.

“How did you find my house?” I asked, crossing my arms over my breasts, in a shoddy attempt to hide my poor clothing situation.

Casper only smiled.

“And how did you get up here? Who buzzed you in?” I asked, rhetorically really, because I wasn’t expecting an answer to that either. It was evident now that Casper Argent always got his way, and he was proud of it.

I could feel my muscles tightening under my robe. I had seen him naked the previous day, and then seen him naked again in my dreams just a few hours ago. And yet he was standing there, fully clothed and looking as handsomely delicious as ever. I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to him. I was supposed to detest his corporate ass. We were fighting him.

“I brought you this,” he said suddenly, interrupting my thoughts. I hadn’t noticed the large paper bag in his hand before, and I meekly took it from him. Why was I accepting gifts from him? What was wrong with me?

“What is it?” I asked, as I peeked into it.

“Some craft supplies for you and Zoe. I figured that you could never have enough, what with all the protest sign-making that you do.” Casper had that smile on his face as he said it, like he was making fun of me.

I could see sheets of colored paper, the bottles of glitter glue, a big box of colored permanent markers, and a painting kit. I jerked my head up to look at him.

“I can’t accept this from you,” I said hurriedly, thrusting the bag back in his direction. Casper kept his hands inside the pockets of his pants as he cocked his head to the side and smiled at me again.

“Well, I don’t expect you to accept this for free. I want you to do something for me as well,” he said, and I gulped. Even though he was talking, I was concentrating on his lips moving, imaging what they would taste like if he kissed me again.

“If you’re here offering me a job again, I can’t accept that either,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as nasty as possible.

Casper shook his head, as self-assuredly as always. “We can discuss the job offer later. That isn’t why I’m here. I was hoping that you would accompany me to a company party. You know, be my date for the event,” he said confidently, as though he was definitely sure that I was going to accept.

“What? Why me? What kind of event?” I was in too much shock to actually process the information.

“It’s the christening of a new company location. I don’t have anybody else to ask on such short notice, and I feel like we can get along if we try,” he explained, already stepping back from me a few paces. Who was he kidding? He’s a billionaire playboy, and he can’t get a last-minute date?

“Where is it?” I blurted out, my mind racing a mile per minute.

“It’s in Hawaii, so pack a bag. I’ll send a car to collect you in an hour,” he said, giving me a once over, like he was making fun of my clothes in his head. Then, without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and went rushing down the stairs.

The bag of craft supplies remained dangling from my hand as I watched him disappear. What did I just get myself into?!