Nemesis(34)

He comes over to me and says, “Jason’s gone home because he’s not feeling well. He said to ask you to cancel his two meetings.”

“Okay,” I reply, my jaw tight.

Cohen pauses and leans on my desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?” I ask, glancing up at him, making sure my expression stays blank.

“I don’t know,” he says, studying me. “You tell me.”

“Everything is fine,” I snap, regretting it instantly. I exhale and pick up the phone. “I better call Jason’s clients, if you will excuse me.”

I glance up into those green eyes, and… Is that amusement flashing there? I put the phone back down and narrow my eyes. “What is so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. “Just you. You’re cute when you’re all annoyed and shit.”

I blink. “Okay, goodbye now.”

He waves, smiling widely, and disappears into his office.

What just happened? He thinks I’m cute because I’m annoyed that a beautiful woman just came here to see him? A woman he’s possibly f*cking? Cute?!

Fucking Scorpios.

I call Jason’s clients and then return to brooding about Cohen and his mysterious lady friend. If he is f*cking her, and he brought her here knowing that I’d see her, he really is an *. I scrub my hand down my face, wondering what my next move should be. Should I call him out on it? Truthfully, I’m dying for the confrontation, but that might not be the best way to go. Cohen is a master at games, and he’s probably anticipating that from me. Hell, he probably did it just to get a rise out of me. How did he bring me down to his level? Because right now, all I want to do is beat him at his own game.

I tap my French-tipped fingernails on my desk, feeling agitated and off-kilter. What if this isn’t a game to him though? What if he decided I wasn’t worth the effort because I wouldn’t hear him out? I guess I could’ve at least listened to him, but at that point I didn’t want to give him a chance to work his way in, to get close enough to hurt me again. My walls are up right now… and maybe they’re too high for him to climb.

What I need to remember is that he’s broken too.

Maybe the broken don’t want to fight. Maybe they want to be fought for.

No. It has to be him playing games. The Cohen I know wouldn’t give up so easily, at least without having his say.

He always likes to have the upper hand, the control.

And now he has it, because I’m left here wondering who that woman is, and what they were up to.

But not for long.

*****

“What are you doing?” Cohen asks, sounding suspicious as I step into his office the next morning. All last night, I wondered to myself why the f*ck I suddenly wasn’t so angry at him. I was more concerned with him having gotten over me. I’m not over him, so how is that fair? I was just ready to hear him out, to listen to what he has to say, and he’s flipped the switch on me, pretending like he doesn’t care anymore. I don’t know how to react to this. All I know is that I am reacting.

“I brought you some coffee,” I say, smiling sweetly. I place the coffee on his desk, inwardly cheering when I hear his soft growl as I lean forward, showing off my cleavage.

“You never bring anyone coffee.” He narrows his gaze, which drops to my breasts then back up to my eyes again. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Cohen,” I reply, shrugging. I straighten and wander back to the door with an extra sway in my hips. Closing the door behind me, I check that no one is around then do up two of the buttons I undid. A few minutes later, he comes over to my desk with the coffee in his hand.

“What are you up to?” he asks, taking a sip but keeping his eyes on me.

“Nothing,” I say, brow furrowing. “It’s just coffee, Cohen.”

“And Hell is just a sauna,” he mutters under his breath. “So, you don’t have anything you want to talk to me about?”

He wants me to ask about yesterday, about the woman who came in, but I’m not going to. He started this game, but I’m going to end it.

“Like what?” I question, tilting my head like a confused puppy.

“I don’t know,” he says, clearing his throat. “Thanks for the coffee. Pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve ever brought anyone in the office any.”

“It is.”

“Can we have lunch together today?” he asks, studying me. “Maybe we can finally have that long-overdue talk.”

“I actually have a lunch date,” I tell him, sounding apologetic. “How about tomorrow?”

“Lunch date with whom?” he asks, gripping onto the edge of my desk, knuckles going white.

“Just a… friend,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “So, tomorrow?”

“Does this friend have a penis?” he asks, jaw clenched.

“Yeah, why?” I ask nonchalantly. I pick up a pen and start to jot down a to-do list.

“You’re doing this because of what happened yesterday,” he says after a few moments. “Aren’t you? Jacinta—”

“What happened yesterday?” I repeat, shrugging. “Cohen, I have to get back to work, and you have to be in court soon. We can talk about this later.”