Chapter Eight
"Natalie! Where the hell are those files you were meant to get me?"
"They are right where I put them," she fired back. "Edge of your desk, on top of the last ones you shouted at me about."
She got no response to that, but she never expected to get one.
She looked back at Fiona, one of the research assistants from another floor who had come up to deliver some things. Fiona watched her with wide eyes, and Natalie felt a surge of guilt.
"I'm sorry, that was, um, pretty out of the blue when we were just talking about backpacking, wasn't it?"
Fiona shook her head, still looking a little awed.
"Oh, don't worry about it," she said. "I was just a little startled, that's all. The yelling is a bit of a surprise. Usually Mr. Adair doesn't bellow like that, but I think the bigger surprise is that you are still standing here."
"Because his voice strikes people dead where they stand?" Natalie asked in slow confusion, and Fiona laughed.
"No, because Mr. Adair is not a man who deals with insubordination all that happily. People have been fired on the spot for being as insolent as you were."
"I wasn't being insolent, I was just giving him a taste of his own medicine," she said grimly. "Honestly, the man cannot shout like that at someone who was just doing her job."
Fiona shrugged, and there was a smile on her face that was hard to understand.
"Well, I think that he has never quite shouted like that at anyone else before. Really, he's more the type to go all cold and distant before you find yourself fired by HR in a week."
Natalie made a face.
"So I guess I'm the only one who's getting this hilariously funny treatment?
"I suppose so. Lucky you."
Natalie eyed her acquaintance suspiciously.
"Why are you calling me lucky? I admit that I don’t know a lot about how things work in Ireland, but where I’m from, we don't usually call it ‘lucky’ when the boss singles us out for special screaming duty."
"Oh, well, that's much the same here. But when the boss is someone like Patrick Adair, well, that makes things a little different, I suppose."
Natalie made a face.
"Not to me," she said. "Look, I know he's handsome, but I swear, it does not make up for the fact that he's being a jerk right now. Why in the world would anyone put up with that?"
Fiona looked a little startled at that.
"You mean you don't…?"
Before Fiona could finish her sentence, however, there was another bellow from the office.
"Natalie, I swear to God, if you have misplaced the files that I left on the side desk."
"I haven't!" she shouted back. "They're edged to the side, and they've been sorted by date, like you said you were going to be doing yesterday! You didn't get around to it, so I took some liberties."
Natalie waited to see if there was any kind of retort for that, but nothing else drifted down the stairs. Some days, it was quite fortunate that Patrick was all but quarantined up in his belfry office; it made her less likely to give in to the urge to punch him. She guessed that she might have done one or two dumber things in her life than punch her boss while she was in a foreign country, but not many. She would prefer to avoid if she could, but Patrick was making it difficult.
Ever since their encounter that late night, things had been strange. He was perfectly civil most of the time, if a little cold and distracted. He was even kind. The problem was the tension between them seemed to stretch out and keep stretching. It was as if there was a bond between them that was stretching to some kind of breaking point, and when it did, she imagined two ends of chain flying up and snapping back, ready fly off and flail at anyone who got in their way. It was terrifying in its own way, and she had no idea when that breaking point would be.
She wasn't aware that it had gotten so bad that other people had noticed it, and now Fiona had given her an extra piece of the puzzle. Apparently, this wasn't normal at all. Natalie had unreasonable bosses before, and before her little talk with Fiona, there was a chance that Patrick was simply one of them. Disappointing and more than a little maddening when she had to work with him, but just another annoyance as she made it through her day.
But now she knew that this was far from usual, and something about that bothered her.
Natalie checked her watch. She was due to be on break now anyway. She made her way up the narrow staircase to the belfry.
Patrick looked about how she expected him to. He had his headset on and was talking to someone in rapid-fire Arabic. She had been surprised to learn that he spoke Arabic, but he had only shrugged, telling her that it was good for business. Now he paced in front of the tall windows of his office, growling something in a language that she didn't understand. She wondered if she should leave, but it wasn't as if she was able to understand what was going on if it was sensitive, anyway. She ended up perched on the corner of his desk, waiting for him to finish. As she waited, Natalie looked at her boss carefully.
Had he always had those dark circles under his eyes? Patrick looked as powerful and lean as ever, but there was something slightly haggard about his expression, something defensive about his stance. He didn't walk, he stalked, like some kind of injured big cat that was ready to lash out with claws at any provocation. She could imagine how terrified his staff must be of him at this moment, but with a certain kind of dark humor, she realized that she was spared. People like Fiona were trying to make lives at Adair. They wanted to stay with a company that everyone admitted was a good one, that provided for them. She, on the other hand, was temporary, and that gave her more freedom to do and to say as she pleased. As temperamental as Patrick had been lately, it might simply mean that she got a little more running room before he cut her off and sent her into the street. However, right now, she wasn't sure she cared. Finally, Patrick ended the call and pulled off his headset. He looked startled to see her sitting on the edge of his desk, but his dark brows pulled together in consternation.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled. "You're meant to be on break."
In the back of her mind, Natalie wondered how he always seemed to know when she was meant to be on break or lunch or knocking off for the day. Instead, she only shrugged.
"Yes, I am on break, so I'm on my own time right now. Twenty minutes to do as I please, and I thought that I would come up and spend some time with you. Aren't I nice?"
If anything, his scowl deepened.
"There's no room in this office for someone who's not immediately working or helping me work," he growled. "Get out, get some damned coffee or something."
"As a matter of fact, it's your break too," she said, ignoring the dark look in his eyes. "I figure that you can take it by going out to get some coffee, or maybe we'll just spend it sniping at each other. That works for me, too."
He stared at her as if she had grown another head.
"What the hell kind of game are you playing? Get out of here. I have work to do. I don't have time for a break."
He went to sit down at his desk chair, presumably to get onto his laptop and to make it even easier to ignore her, but that was where he made a great error.
Natalie could move quickly when she wanted to, and in a moment, she had put herself between him and the laptop. That also put her right on his lap, but that was immaterial, she decided. There was a part of her that craved this contact with him, but she decided that she would simply ignore that in favor of the greater good, which was making sure that the man took goddamn break before he actually broke.
"What the hell, Natalie?" he growled, looking so incensed that it was funny.
"Seriously. Take a break. You've been shouting at me all morning, and I think it's beginning to freak people out. It would be one thing if it were just me, not that I deserved any of it, but when your shouting fits start to make people twitch, it's not doing anything for morale around here. Work's on slowdown because no one knows what's setting you off, so quit it."
Her short speech shook him, and when Patrick frowned up at her there was doubt in his eyes.
"People are upset?"
"I would say more alarmed and wondering if they are going to be looking for new jobs soon," she said.
He scowled at her.
"I'm not planning on firing anyone."
"Yeah, but they don't know that. There are people with families downstairs, and they want to make sure that they are going to be able to continue feeding and housing those families. They do not want to suddenly find themselves on the street because you are having a bad hair day or whatever, and that is why I am currently sitting on top of you and making you take a damned break."
Patrick's expression eased a little bit, and he looked a little guilty as he glanced up at her.
"And you are here because you are not afraid of any of that?"
"My situation gives me a unique freedom to do as I like," she retorted. "After all, no matter what happens, I'm out of here when the floors are done, remember? Free and clear with a ticket that the company's owner promised me. I get to be a little more aggressive."
His gaze darkened, but now there was something else in it, something hot and intense. She could feel the change in the air, and she responded to it. The smart thing would have been to hop off of him now that she had made her point, but instead, she leaned into him a little more. His body was tensing underneath her, and almost deliberately, he arched up against her.
"Aggressive? When I met you, you were being hauled into an alley. How aggressive can you really be?"
A flash of anger streaked through her at his harsh words, but that anger was warmed by something besides those words. It was the tension that he had put them through over the last few weeks. It was the strain that she had been under living with a man who called to her like water without being able to touch him. Right now, she knew that she could not afford to be baited even as she fell right into it.
"I'll show you aggressive," she said, and she reached up to fist her small hands in his hair.
With more boldness than she knew she possessed, she leaned up and kissed him hard on the mouth. She had meant to make it short and punishing, to tell him that she was not afraid of him or in the least intimidated by what he was saying.
She had not expected him to respond instantly, crushing her in his arms and drawing her so close she could barely breathe. After a moment of shock, he kissed her in return with just as much need, just as much pent up desire. Her kiss was like throwing a match onto a stack of dry tinder, and they held on to each other tightly, as if they never wanted to let go.
Patrick was the one who broke away first, but he only moved to her throat. She could feel teeth as well as lips there, and there was a silvery pain that cut through her as he bit gently. She started to cry out, but then he laved her skin with his tongue, the pain feeding off of the pleasure and the pleasure feeding off of the pain. She could feel his arousal underneath her, and it woke her own as well, making her long for this man.
She never would have called herself a passionate person, but now she was hanging off of him as if she would die if she were pulled away. She needed this man, she craved him, and she knew that it was all hopeless.
They might have continued to the point of no return and past it when there was suddenly a step on the stairs. It was loud, it was coming closer, and for a moment they both froze.
Natalie imagined Patrick bellowing at whoever the innocent person was who had interrupted them, and with a whispered curse, she slid off of his lap. Patrick made a startled sound, grabbing at her as he thought she had fallen off of him in surprise. Instead, she slithered to the ground and tucked herself between his knees and the desk, hiding her from view of the door.
"Excuse me, sir? I have those figures that you asked for."
"Oh. Yes, come in."
She didn't know the man who had brought the paperwork for Patrick, but she couldn't resist a slight giggle at the idea of him figuring out that there was a woman hiding under his boss's desk. Patrick and the man spoke for a few moments, and she wondered if he noticed that Patrick's voice was slightly strained, just a little odd. Probably not. Patrick had been acting so irritable lately that the man was likely just happy that the boss hadn't started yelling.
It seemed like an eternity passed when Natalie was under the desk, though it was only a few minutes. Absently, she stroked Patrick's knee, startled when he tensed up. Intrigued, she kept half an ear on what he was saying to the man, and repeated the motion.
She could feel the shiver of response throughout his frame, and she grinned to herself. Patrick was not a man who ever felt out of control, and she wondered how it felt to him now, trying to talk to an employee while she was touching him. It was innocent, she thought, it wasn't like she was touching anything particularly sensitive.
The man finally said his goodbyes, and as soon as the door clicked after him Patrick's hand shot down and grabbed Natalie by the arm, dragging her back up.
"You infuriating little witch!" he exclaimed, and Natalie couldn't help bursting into giggles.
"You kept twitching!" she exclaimed. "It wasn't my fault that you were so responsive!"
For a moment, she thought that Patrick really would just throw her out of his office, and that was something that she couldn't even begrudge him.
Then, like magic, a slow smile spread over his face and he started to laugh as well. His arms came around her in a hug that felt oddly innocent despite everything that they had been shouting about before, and he buried his face in her belly like it was the most natural thing in the world. Natalie wrapped her arms around his head, hugging him a little as she laughed, and as she did she realized that it just felt good. This man felt good when they weren't snapping and snapping at each other. The realization made her sad, and she wondered why it couldn't be like this all the time.
"Because we are two very different people, I suppose," he said, and with a blush, she realized that she spoke her wistful question out loud.
"We are still two different people who managed to laugh together," Natalie murmured, but she slid away. The realization that she had earlier, that it would be terrible when she left Patrick, was still true. Sometimes, she wondered if the warmth was going to make it worse than all the yelling had.
Patrick sighed, and the look he gave her was free of the anger and frustration that he had showed her lately. Instead, it was sad, and she knew in the core of her being that that was worse — far worse.
"Break's nearly over," he said, and she could hear the return of that stiffness to his tone. She wished she could reach out again and break it, but that would not have been fair to either of them. "You can get yourself some coffee before you go back to it."
"No, I think I'll just leap right in," Natalie responded, a bit of sadness in her own tone. "I mean, sooner begun is sooner done, right?"
In this case, that saying was terribly true. The sooner she got her work done, the sooner she would be done with Patrick, and the thought made her heart feel as if it was tearing in two.