Chapter Four

Isabella

As much as I hate to admit it with how angry he’s made me at every turn, whatever Adam sent me has me biting my nails in anticipation for the rest of the day. I can’t be sure if it was actually the contents of the box or the way he’d invaded my space, making me lightheaded with his shift in demeanor, but whatever it is, I can’t get him out of my mind.

I’m not typically one for surprises, especially those coming from such a pompous ass, but for some reason this box has me on the edge of my seat. I’ve almost cracked at least three times. However, the promise of knowing I’m pissing him off by not giving him what he wants at the drop of a hat has more appeal than anything that would fit inside this box ever could.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t driving me crazy.

Despite my curiosity, I manage to make it to my car before I give the parking lot a quick scan and lift the edge of the lid, taking a peek inside the box. After a frustrating three layers of frivolous wrapping, my fingertips taste the delicate brush of silk resting inside. A peek no longer sufficing, I toss the lid completely to the side altogether and finally take in the dress he’d chosen, searching for a flaw and sinking into my worn leather seat when there aren’t any.

“Shit,” I hiss, shaking my head before I throw my car into gear and head back to my apartment in silent fury.

It’s perfect.

The soft silk, the deep shade, the classic a-line cut… it’s all impeccable and the thought of wearing something so beautiful has me silently giddy the whole way home.

That’s what really pisses me off.

This whole situation is a real shame.

If his uncle is any indication, Adam comes from a great family and he seems like a decent guy when he’s not on his bullshit, macho power trip. He dresses well, has more money than Jesus and I’d be crazy to not notice how gorgeous he is. His roman features, his strong, athletic physique, the sexy Southern drawl that slips out low and husky as he speaks my name… As much as I hate to admit it, the combined effects of Mr. CEO have me in knots, but the fact remains.

The guy is a prick with a capital P.

By the time I make it back to my place, I’ve barely got time to pour myself a glass of wine before I have to start getting ready. I curse and rant and throw a fit the whole time, but once I slip on the dress, I cease my tantrum and admit defeat.

Even in my childish fury, I have to admit the asshole has great taste.

The shade he’s chosen makes my eyes pop like ice, the dip in the neckline suggests just enough and the silk hugs my curves like a bedsheet.

If I didn’t know better, even I would swear he’d seen me naked by the way this dress drapes so perfectly over my ass.

“At least he has one redeeming quality,” I sigh in frustration as I drain my glass, setting it down on the kitchen counter before I pull up my email on my phone.

I should have read this hours ago, but in my quest to refuse subordination, I’d put it off until last minute, opting instead to give it a quick scan as the polish on my toes finishes drying.

Deciding after skimming the first four paragraphs that it’s not only boring as hell, but likely includes little information that will be expected of me to know, I shut the email and toss my phone to the side.

I’ve already sent the obligatory best friend selfie to Christie and am putting on the finishing touches on my hair and makeup when I hear a knock on the door, pulling an eye roll from me as I move toward the front of my apartment.

“I’ve still got nineteen minutes!” I call out, shaking my head as I reach for my purse and toss a few must-haves inside, cringing when the second round of knocking pulls at me. “Oh, for the love of Pete,” I grate out, fully irritated now as I clear the distance between me and the door. “Pushy ass drivers. You drive big bad boss man to a couple meetings and all of a sudden, you think you can just tell a person how to live their life. Well, let me tell you something, asshole,” I rant, swinging the door open. “You are literally not the boss of-”

Shit.

“You were saying?”

“I um… I thought you were your driver,” I admit, hating the way my chest seizes in humiliation as Adam’s hazel eyes find mine. “I didn’t expect you to pick me up yourself, much less come to the door.”

“So I heard,” he says, his even expression doing nothing to dull my embarrassment. He gives me a once-over, showing nothing in his features as his eyes pause on my half-curled strands. When he begins to speak once more, his voice is soft enough to make my cheeks heat slightly. “Are you almost ready?”

“No,” I say as I shake my head. “You said seven, so I wasn’t expecting you for a few more minutes.”

“You’re right. I did say seven,” he admits, the corner of his lips quirking up just so. “I also said when I tell you seven, I expect you to be ready at six forty-five,” he glances down at his watch before returning his eyes to my narrowing gaze. “Which it currently is.”

“If you wanted me to be ready at six forty-five, why did you say seven?”

“Miss Baxter,” he begins, forcing a smile as he tenses his jaw. “Do you make a habit of forcing all of your guests to argue with you in the hallway in front of the neighbors before following through with engagements?”

“Most of my neighbors are ninety and half-deaf. I’m sure they haven’t even noticed,” I promise, extending my arm as I take a step back, the fake smile plastered on as he steps inside. As I push the door closed behind him, I drop my voice so low he can’t hear me. “Besides, you weren’t invited, so technically you’re more like an intruder.”

 

Adam

While I wait, I force my eyes away from my watch and the nerves that it puts into my chest, instead focusing on the apartment she calls home, taking in the details.

It’s small and the feminine décor has a bit of a bohemian edge to it I didn’t expect. You shouldn’t be expecting anything. She’s your employee, I think to myself as I shake my head clear, focusing my attention back to the meeting we’re about to be late for.

I’m about to call out to her when she returns, looking even more well-polished than she had before. I get a proper look at her and fully appreciate the way the silk falls over her skin, hugging her curves in all the places I’d imagined. Her hair falls over her shoulders in soft waves, her blue eyes popping and making my breath catch.

“Now I’m ready,” she says quietly, reaching for the small clutch she’d previously abandoned and grabbing her house keys before moving toward the door.

I follow her, waiting as patiently as I can manage as she moves to lock her door, the sound of whispered profanity pulling my eyes to her.

“What is it?”

“Nothing really. It’s just my door,” she sighs, still twisting her wrist as she pulls on the handle in an effort to find a winning combination. “I asked my landlord for a new one a month ago, but he’s been taking his sweet ass time,” she shakes her head, trying again. “It’s been getting jammed. I either can’t get the latch to turn over or the key gets stuck. It’s incredibly annoying,” she admits, pulling the key out altogether and trying to start over, resting her forehead on the frame when it refuses to budge. “I’m trying.”

“May I?” I ask, taking a step closer.

“Be my guest,” she nods. She begins to move away, but I stop her by reaching around her shoulders and effectively caging her in, not missing the way her breathing catches. My fingers move to pluck the keys from her grip as I gently place my hand over hers.

“Stay where you are,” I order soft. “It might take both of us.”

“Okay,” she replies, her tone just as low.

“Pull hard on the handle,” I instruct, feeling her dark hair brush against my chin as she nods in agreement. “Forgive me if my next words are intrusive or come off as anything other than genuine curiosity, but I’ve never known my uncle to be anything but generous with his employees,” I start as I continue to finagle the lock, struggling to feel it catch. “I’m sure you’re paid well enough to not be forced to live in a place with ill-working locks.”

“Any place I could afford in the city would be half the size and I like my space,” she shrugs, slowly relaxing. “Besides, it’s charming here. I have neighbors who sing to their house plants, ya know? There’s something to be said for people like that.”

“Fair enough,” I smile soft, appreciating her sentimentality even though it doesn’t necessarily trigger much for someone like me. The truth of the matter is, I’ve always envied people with a tie to things like that. I don’t, however, so it isn’t something I often understand. “Use your weight,” I insist, shaking my head clear from the thought and maneuvering the key into the lock. As the smell of her perfume hits me, I clear my throat in an effort to stifle a groan. She hears enough to have her eyes flitting up to mine. “Pull it tight,” I say low, watching her follow my instruction, but nothing happens with the door. “Harder. Like this.”

I grip my hand more firmly over hers and twist it just enough to feel the bolt catch, twisting my hips and inadvertently brushing against her ass. The friction pulls a gasp from her at the same time I bite my lip and the lock slides into place.

Jesus Christ.

“All set,” I say, my voice low as I release my grip and watch her swallow hard as I step away. “We should be going. I’d like to arrive before the others.”

“How did you…?”

“I’m good with locks. Let’s just leave it at that,” I say simply, cutting her off and not delving into the subject regardless of the smirk her curious expression puts on my lips. “Follow me.”