The Gentleman

ROSE

I pushed the doors of the tall glass building open, its large windows glinting beneath the midday sun. My core still ached, my limp obvious in my steps.

That guy was a beast.

With a white scarf carefully wrapped around my neck to hide the hickeys, I forced my shoulders back, my feet tapping impatiently as I waited for the lift.

The metal doors parted with a soft chime, revealing a distressed crowd.

I stepped in once they exited, my ears perking up at their outcries:

“How can he just fire us? We’ve been here for seven years!”

I winced as the lady screeched, the red splotches around her eyes shadowing her tears. The others mumbled in agreement, their dejected steps making my heart race in my chest.

The doors closed just as my breath began to hitch, my nerves on edge.

I bit my lip. My fist tightened around the strap of the bag hanging from my shoulder, the weight of my manuscripts suddenly feeling ten times heavier.

Dragging my feet out of the lift and onto the floor, I glanced around, the bright lights hanging from the ceiling in stark contrast with the burdened expressions of the staff.

The long, sleek headroom was filled with people rushing over the marbled tiles, pacing back and forth between the rooms adjacent to the corridors.

I limped over to the people standing in a queue outside a door with the name “Daniel Rossi” embellished into the wood in a golden font.

The name rattled around in my head, creating a numbing cacophony of worried thoughts. I shoved the odd familiarity into the depths of my mind, clenching and unclenching my fists for comfort.

Rooted to my spot, I swallowed nervously as I waited for my name to be called. People left the office, some in tears, others red-faced with fury.

My stomach dropped as I pressed my eyes shut, muttering calming words to myself.

I let out a shaky breath, my feet shuffling nervously, my hands crossed in a messy entanglement.

“Rosalie! Finally, you’re here!” I rolled my eyes, pasting a smile over my anxiety as the manager closed in on me.

“Well, don’t just look at me! Go in.” My thoughts blurred, a lump lodged in my throat.

She wrapped a tight hand around my arm, nudging me toward the room with a pointed glare. I shot a glare back at her before reluctantly trudging to the oak door.

Lifting a balled fist up, I knocked on the wooden door, looking through the peephole.

My knees almost gave way as I pressed my back against the wall after catching a glimpse of the figure inside, my hand clamped over my mouth.

“Come in.”

I gasped at the deep voice, the same voice that had whispered heated things into my ear mere hours ago.

I quickly wrapped my scarf around the bottom half of my face, tying the fabric into a knot over my hair.

My eyes widened, my face flushing a deep crimson as my mind traveled to the sting still present between my legs—the man who caused it was on the other side of the door!

I frantically looked between the door and the manager who was standing with her hands on her hips as I desperately searched for a way out.

With no possible route of escape, I gave up, turning back toward the office. I stepped into the tense atmosphere weighing over the place, letting the door close behind me with a faint click.

The large room seemed to mock me, the wide windows glistening beneath the clear blue skies. A huge mahogany desk sat proudly in the middle of the room, documents neatly arranged around its perimeter.

He stood with his back to me, a tailored blazer smoothed over his ripped back, his hands clenched around the shelves behind his desk.

“Miss Millar, I believe?” He turned, eyes narrowing at my makeshift mask.

I cleared my throat, “I... um... have an infection.” My voice softened under the layers of the white scarf, trailing out in an unrecognizable tone.

He frowned, nodding slightly, “Right. Infection.” His gaze pierced through mine, his eyes traveling over my face in a light caress.

Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.

Keeping his gaze fixated on mine, he motioned to the dark chairs by the table, “Take a seat.”

I lowered myself onto the cold leather, my shoulders tensing up under his scrutiny.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re an author who specializes in romance,” his eyes darkened, “erotic romance.”

“Yes.” I paused to swallow. “I’ve been working here for the past two years.”

He cocked his head to the side, the intensity of his features making me look away.

“What do you want, Rose?” His voice turned sultry and low, his eyes crinkling at the edges like he was keeping a smile at bay.

Shit, shit, shit.~

I pressed my mouth shut, my cheeks heating up.

“I mean, that’s what one of your books is called. What You Want,~ right?” I blinked, and his amused expression vanished, a businessman sitting in the place of the man who had fucked me senseless only hours ago.

My shoulders dropped in relief, “Yes. Yes, I do have a book by that name.”

He sauntered around the desk, stopping beside me. I snapped my gaze away from him, the heady scent of his cologne making my knees weak.

“As you know, I’ve had to make a couple of cuts from the staff.”

I almost scoffed.

A couple? More like hundreds.~

“But I think a renowned author such as yourself should be offered a permanent position, rather than the hours you’ve been doing up until now.”

His words reverberated against the walls, his presence filling and dominating the space.

I looked up to see him already looking at me, his deep gaze fastened to mine, almost like he was searching for something.

“I appreciate the offer, Mr. Rossi, but I’m not sure I’d be able to accommodate the hours,” I replied breathily, struggling to control the heat running over my skin.

He cocked his head to the side, “Well then, I’m afraid the company will be unable to accommodate you, Miss Millar.” He threw my words back at me—an unspoken challenge laid open between us.

Rounding the table back to his seat, he left an uncomfortable coldness in his wake—the cool air enveloping me.

“Unless, of course, you’d like to take some time to consider the offer.”

I gnawed at my lips, looking down at my lap before shooting him a glare, “Actually, I think I’ll take you up on that offer now.”

I’d worked hard to get to where I was today, and I wasn’t about to give up just because I’d unwittingly fucked my new boss.

Actually, when you put it like that—

Silently, he pushed the contract toward me with a slight grin, the sight sending a pleasant warmth rushing straight to my core.

As I read over the complex sentences, he held a pen forward, my fingers grazing his for a split second as I took it. Signing at the bottom of the paper, I rose.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rossi.” I turned, not waiting for his response.

“You too, Rose.” My steps faltered at his husky tone, my breath hitching in my throat.

Refusing to turn back, I escaped his lair, my limbs trembling with adrenaline.