Lola
SHIT.
Shit. Hell. Damn. Fuck.
As I studied my reflection in the mirror, I tried my best to keep my freak-out at bay.
I breathed out through my mouth and bounced from foot to foot, shaking my hands at my side like a boxer gearing up for a televised fight. “You got this,” I mumbled to myself. “You got this. You got this.” I inhaled through my nose and stretched my neck from side to side. “So what if he heard you call him a pretentious prick?” I asked my reflection. “So what if he’s your boss? Your insanely gorgeous, rock-hard boss.” I gave my head a violent shake and squeezed my eyes closed. “No! No! He’s not hot. He’s… boring… and his nose is kinda funny-looking.” Lies. All lies. His nose was adorable and I wanted to poke it.
“Jeez! Get your shit together, Lola!” I pointed at the mirror. I’d officially lost my mind. If anyone had seen me standing in the bathroom, having a full-blown conversation with myself, they would’ve had me locked up in a padded room. Which, I wasn’t going to lie, didn’t sound too bad at the moment. Anything would’ve been better than going on a date with Grayson Lockhart. Padded rooms could be fun, right? All that bouncing from wall to wall without the threat of breaking a bone. Plus, straightjackets probably felt like hugs.
My cell phone rang from my bedroom, scaring the absolute shit out of me. My heart palpitated as I picked it up off the nightstand and answered with a hesitant “Hello?”
“Ms. Abbatelli, it’s Maury from the front desk. There’s a Mr. Lockhart here for you.”
Damn it, he beat the padded room people! Now I was stuck. I let out a slow breath. “Tell me something, Maury — how does he look?”
“I’m… not sure I’m following you, ma’am,” he answered in confusion.
“His face. Does it look angry? Bored? Excited? Maybe a little constipated?”
I thought I heard Maury choke. “Constipated?”
I stomped my foot even though no one was around to see. “I’m trying to gauge his mood here, Maury. Help a woman out, will you?”
“Well….” He paused for a few seconds. “Right now he looks a little confused, and maybe even a bit scared. I don’t think he’s comfortable, and I have to tell you, Ms. Abbatelli, I’m not all that comfortable right now either.” The volume of Maury’s voice softened, like he’d pulled the phone from his ear. “Oh no, sir, I didn’t mean that she’s constipated.” Oh sweet hell. “I’m not sure, Mr. Lockhart. Hey, how would you describe your face right now?”
This was God punishing me for the sins of my past. I just knew it. Sister Agnes told me I’d be punished for stealing that bottle of communion wine and getting drunk behind the gymnasium of the school with my friends. It was one time, God! Why have your forsaken me?
Maury’s voice interrupted my silent pleading with God. “Oh yes, sir. Ms. Abbatelli?”
“Yeah?”
“Mr. Lockhart for you.” Then he passed the phone to Grayson and his deep voice trickled down the line, sending a shiver down my back. Stupid back.
“It’s 7:05, Lola. You’re officially late. If it’s constipation I’d be happy to have the driver stop at the pharmacy on the way to dinner. I’m nothing if not accommodating.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
My fingers curled tightly around the phone like it was his neck and I was giving it a good long choke. Despite the way my body reacted to him, there was still a very intense need deep inside of me to physically maim him in some way. “I’ll be right down,” I growled through clenched teeth, disconnecting the call as soon as his low baritone laugh came through.
Stuffing the phone in the beaded navy blue clutch lying on my bed, I slipped my feet into my tan heels and headed out the door, cursing Grayson Lockhart the entire trip down to the lobby.
“Do not be charmed. Do not be charmed,” I repeated over the god-awful light jazz coming from the elevator’s speaker. “Remember, he’s a prick.”
The doors opened with a ding once I reached the lobby, revealing the bane of my existence in all his GQ-esque glory. My lady parts all but shouted out the “Hallelujah” chorus at the sight of him. Stupid lady parts.
I knew he rocked the hell out a suit, but there was something particularly intoxicating about how he looked without the tie. I don’t know why, but that small expanse of skin at the base of his throat being exposed was practically calling out to me, screaming “Lick me, lick me. You know you want to. I taste as good as I smell.”
And sweet merciful baby Jesus, when he smiled? Well, a lesser woman would’ve melted into a quivering puddle on the floor. But I steeled my spine and squared my shoulders as I walked toward him with a borderline vicious smile.
“You look possessed” were the first words out of his mouth. How charming.
I widened my eyes and gave him an exaggerated gasp. “What a coincidence! Seeing as you’re Lucifer and all.”
He chuckled as his eyes scanned my body. Not in a creepy, leering way but in a “I’m a hot-blooded male who appreciates a good-looking woman” kind of way. I’d never admit it out loud, but when I chose the dark blue jersey knit dress that ended midthigh, came down in a V-neck that showed just enough cleavage to make the girls look good, and hugged my curves like it loved them, I’d done it with the hopes of wowing Grayson to the point where he’d hopefully choke on one of his steamed clams — or whatever he ate — and keeled over dead.
And oh darn. Wouldn’t you know it, I failed my CPR certification back in college. But in my defense, it was college and I was really hung over.
But as those green eyes of his shone with genuine interest, I found myself unwittingly wanting him not to choke to death, because… well, I kind of liked the attention. Stupid attention whore!
So to brush off the icky feeling of enjoyment that I did not want to feel, I did what any smart woman would do — I went into bitch mode. I snapped my fingers in front of his face to catch his attention. “Eyes up, bub, or your crotch is going to meet the business end of my friend Christian Louboutin.” I pointed to my pumps. “You might be my boss, but I’m not on the clock and I’ll cut a bitch.”
He just laughed.
Okay, so maybe I took bitch mode a little over the top, but I couldn’t think straight when he was around! Do you have any clue how confusing it is to hate someone when your bits are begging to become besties with his bits? I’ll tell you, it’s a pickle.
Shit, now I’m thinking about giant pickles.
“You look beautiful,” he told me with a sincere smile. Son of a bitch, this guy’s good. Bitch mode went into system failure.
“Uh… thanks,” I relented quietly, finally willing to admit I was fighting a losing battle. “You look really nice too.”
“See?” His grin widened. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I rolled my eyes and stepped past him, heading for the door. “You should’ve quit while you were ahead.”
Maury gave me a grin as I walked out the door he was holding open. “If I don’t come back tonight, call the police and tell them this guy did it,” I said, hitching a thumb over my shoulder in Grayson’s direction.
He laughed good-naturedly and tipped his head. “Have a good evening, ma’am.” Then he tipped his chin at Grayson, who reached out to shake his hand. “Mr. Lockhart.”
“Maury. It was a pleasure meeting you. I promise I’ll return her. And you have nothing to fear. If anyone’s well-being is in danger, it’s mine.”
“I don’t know, sir.” Maury looked back and forth between the two of us. “I’ve never seen a man give this one a run for her money. Might just be time.”
“Someone’s off my Christmas list,” I singsonged loudly as I made my way down the steps towards the waiting town car, faking a bravado I most certainly wasn’t feeling. As I climbed into the car and moved across the luxurious leather seat to the other side, I could smell Grayson’s cologne lingering in the interior. I chanced a brief sniff, closing my eyes to take it in before he finally joined me inside and closed the door.
One thought bounced around the inside of my head as his overwhelming presence suddenly filled the small space.
What the hell have I just gotten myself into?