My Arrogant Boss Called Me A Sister — Until He Saw Me With A Rival
Part 2
The heavy, humid air of the glass conservatory felt like a physical relief after the screaming chaos of the ballroom.
Craig handed me a crystal tumbler of dark amber liquid.
His rough fingers brushed against mine.
I took a sip.
The whiskey was incredible.
It burned a clean, hot trail down my throat.
Craig observed that I was angry.
I stiffened and assured him I was perfectly content.
He leaned closer.
The smell of his clove-scented soap cut through the heavy floral rot of the room.
He told me I carried anger like a heavy coat.
He said it was dragging my shoulders down.
No one had ever bypassed my pragmatic armor and simply tapped the glass beneath.
A sudden, terrifying urge to tell this strange man everything welled up in my chest.
I opened my mouth to offer a biting retort.
A heavy booted footstep crunched violently on the gravel path behind us.
I flinched.
The whiskey sloshed precariously in my glass.
Dan stormed down the narrow path.
He pushed past a massive hanging vine with unnecessary force.
The usually flawless knot of his cravat was askew.
A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.
His dark eyes were fixed entirely on the few inches of space between me and Craig.
He stopped walking.
The air in the glass house suddenly vanished.
Dan’s chest heaved.
He stepped directly into Craig’s space and used every inch of his height to loom over him.
He rasped Craig’s name in a breathless, unhinged tone.
Craig didn’t flinch.
He simply took a slow sip of his whiskey.
Dan snapped that we were leaving.
He reached out.
His large hand wrapped around my upper arm.
His grip was entirely too tight.
The silk of my dress crushed beneath his fingers.
I froze.
I looked down at his hand gripping my arm.
Six hours ago, I would have obeyed.
Six hours ago, I would have assumed he needed me to fix something.
A sudden, fierce heat flared in my chest.
It burned away the last remnants of my quiet, pathetic hope.
It left behind a hard, brilliant anger.
I did not pull my arm away.
I simply stared at his hand until he felt the scorching weight of my gaze.
Dan slowly loosened his grip.
I told him I wasn’t going anywhere with him.
My voice dropped to a low, venomous whisper.
Dan looked as though I had driven a blade into his stomach.
He physically recoiled.
He choked out my name.
Craig stepped smoothly between us.
He shielded me from Dan’s frantic energy.
Dan’s hands balled into fists at his sides.
He stared over Craig’s broad shoulder to meet my eyes.
He expected to see my usual calming pragmatism.
Instead, he found absolute, freezing indifference.
Dan took a step back.
His polished boot slipped slightly on the damp gravel.
Without another word, he turned and fled back into the crowded house.
He tore blindly at the suffocating knot of his cravat.
I took a steadying breath.
The scent of cloves and rain grounded me.
Craig turned back to face me with a sharp, calculating look.
He asked if we should finish our whiskey.
A slow, genuine smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
I agreed.
Would I let the ghost of the man who never saw my worth drag me back into the dark, or would I finally step into the light with the one who treated me like an equal?
