Friction(6)

"Ah," I murmur, holding back a laugh as I challenge her gaze. Lucy Williams, with all her research and careful planning, doesn’t know a single thing about my company. I should be offended. Should tell her to get the fuck out of my office. I’m not, and I don’t. "Well, call me a cocky motherfucker for saying this, but the rest is much, much better."

She moves her tongue from side to side between her teeth, and I zero in on her mouth again. This time, I don’t look back up. I love how her voice hitches uncomfortably when she says, "There's nothing wrong with being cocky when you're talented."

"Then good on me for being cocky and right."

"I can only imagine," she starts, slightly out of breath. "I can only imagine how incredible the rest of your work is. How long have you been set up here?"

"Going on three years. I started with five employees, but I had to fire Michaela.” I run my hand over my mouth and lift my shoulders. “This past year has been good to us—really good, to be honest. We’ve been making waves."

She keeps her face neutral, but I can tell she has something smartass to say. Do your worst, love. "You’ve been making waves, but you want more.”

"Isn't that the American dream? More. Better. Bigger?"

She shivers and glances away from me for a second to gather her thoughts. "More, better, and bigger is the human dream, Mr. Exley."

"Jace,” I correct. I want to hear her say my name. Need to hear her say it.

"Sorry, it's a habit."

"One I'd quickly break if you were with me."

“Right,” she whispers. Her movements are short and jerky as she opens her portfolio, and I know I’ve gotten under her skin. I’ve been there before, but I’ve never enjoyed it this much. Never wanted to see how much deeper I can push. I’ve also never had my dick react to her so quickly. She passes a stack of papers across my desk, keeping her fingertips at the edges, so she won’t have to touch me. I accept her letters of recommendation, unleashing a harsh laugh because she snatches her fingers away.

"Germaphobe?" I demand. I was counting on touching her. To see if her skin’s as soft as it looks. "Might not go over well around here, Williams."

She juts her narrow chin out defensively. "I can promise you I'll fit in just right. Even though I've never worked for a company quite like yours, I—"

"If you don't know what you're selling, why the fuck did you apply?" My crass response echoes through her body, and she releases an angry shudder from her nose. "Well, Williams? Or should I call you"—I cast my eyes down to her resume—"Duncan?"

The color drains from her face. "No … it’s Williams now."

I wish I could enjoy learning that—that she’s no longer married—but I don’t. I’m not sorry nearly as often as I should be, but I feel like a rat bastard for goading her, and her hurt expression shoots a sharp wedge right through my chest.

I don’t like that she’s made me feel any more than I enjoy being attracted to her.

"All right, Williams,” I say, softening my voice. “Why did you apply if you don't know what you're doing?”

"Because I know how to get things sold, and that’s all that counts. At WLC, I marketed everything from electronics to toys.”

The ghost of a smile hovers over my lips. "Toys, huh?"

"Yes, you know the playthings parents purchase for their children." My shoulders shake with silent laughter, and she gives me a confused frown. Fuck, if she only knew. I motion for her to continue, so she takes a deep breath. "Most recently I did branding and spearheaded the launch of an organic coffee company."

"Java-Org," I read from her resume, my brow tugging together because I recognize the name of the company. If it’s the same one I’m thinking of, it’s no wonder she quit. Their coffee is rubbish. "Daisy's ordered their stuff a time or two—the coffee that comes in the green tins, yes?"

"That's the one." She beams with pride, so I swallow the insult I was prepared to hurl at the liquid shit Daisy forced on my unsuspecting employees and myself. "It's been incredibly successful. That's why there's no doubt in my mind I can make your business even better if you let me. For starters, we'd get you a functional website. Not having one is hurting you."

I ponder that for a moment, tapping my fingers to my chin, before I ask, "Why did you leave? If it’s so successful, why would you leave?"

She looks like I’ve just shit on all her hopes and dreams as she peers down at her hands in her lap. "The owner and I had a falling out that couldn't be resolved.”

I imagined she’d say she wanted a change of scenery. Or that she’d tasted her own product and decided to stop peddling shit. I never expected her to admit she couldn’t get along with her employer.

She’s full of surprises today.

"So if I were to hire you, and I pissed you off—and I can almost guarantee I will because I've been told I can be a tosser—"

"A tosser," she interrupts.

"An asshole." I roll my eyes. She knows exactly what I mean because she called me that once, and I responded with a comment that made her flush all over. Just like she’s doing now. "For fuck’s sake, Williams, as I was saying, when shit hits the fan, are you just going to walk out on me too?"