Romance Warfare: a Tigress' Guide to NOT Secure a Mate(19)

As soon as she was out of sight, Adam snatched Dean to his feet, knocking the glass of amber liquid and clinking ice cubes to the floor. Nose to nose, Adam let loose a low, menacing growl. His anger at Dean burned hot, curling deep inside, causing his tiger to push close to the surface. His feline fangs elongated, pushing against his lips before he caught them and forced his tiger back down, to curl in the pit of his stomach.

“This is your f*cking fault. What the hell do you think you’re doing, bringing Rachel here? I can’t believe you did this shit, Dean. You’re my f*cking cousin, my f*cking second—in the company and the clan. What are you trying to do?”

Dean pushed back, pulling his jacket from between Adam’s clenched fists, smoothing the lapels. He gave the diners around him an apologetic smile before grabbing Adam’s elbow and steering him to the door and out onto the sidewalk.

Adam, still fuming, turned on him. “Would you like to explain yourself?”

“There’s nothing to explain.”

“Try again, Dean. You wearing my patience too thin. Why did you bring Rachel here?”

Dean sighed, the sound huffing out in a sharp exhale. “I’m trying to get you to see something.”

“And what would that be?”

“That you love Eva.”

Adam reached for Dean again, ready to inflict some serious damage on his cousin’s handsome face, but Dean stepped lightly out of his reach.

“Violence isn’t the answer,” he said, deadpan.

“You know what? I’m out, I’m gone, before I the beat the crap out of you, right here on this sidewalk. I can’t deal with your shit anymore, Dean. Especially not now, with Eva…”

“With Eva, what?”

Adam didn’t answer, instead, he turned and walked away from Dean, leaving him standing on the sidewalk alone.

***

The next morning, Adam sat at Eva’s desk, his eyes trained on the bank of elevators beyond the glass doors. She wouldn’t answer any of his texts or calls last night. She even ignored him when he went to her apartment, refusing to answer when he buzzed her intercom. She was going to talk to him that morning. He was going to explain what happened, that it was Dean’s fault that Rachel had been there. Then he was going to tell her why he’d wanted to meet her there in first place. That he’d been ready to give her an offer of marriage. That he still was.

When the doors finally slid open and Eva emerged from the elevator, his heart crawled in his throat. She was so goddamned beautiful, she took his breath away. Even in her obvious anger. He could see it in the way she strode down the corridor, her heels clicking staccato across the marble floors. She pushed the door open and stopped when she saw him at her desk.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Frost?” Her face was a mask, her eyes frigid chips.

“We need to talk, Eva.”

She reached her desk and dropped her bag onto the top, shooing him away from her chair. He got up, letting her have her spot, watching her quietly as she went about turning on her computer, switching the phone from the answering service, printing off messages. When she finished with her office-opening procedures, she looked at him expectantly.

“So, what can I help you with this morning, Mr. Frost?”

“Mr. Frost? Eva, you don’t need to call me…”

“Yes, I do,” she said coldly. “Now, would you like coffee? I can make a fresh pot or send out for Starbucks.”

“Eva, I don’t want any coffee.”

“Fine, I’ll get you a water then.” She shuffled through a stack of papers, pulling one out and handing it to him. “Here are your meetings for the day, I can move your one o’clock if you think your lunch will run long.”

“Eva, I didn’t know Rachel would be there. Dean brought her.”

“Your five o’clock canceled—Mark’s kid has a school thing—so you’ve got that hour free. Would you like me to make a dinner reservation somewhere or will you be dining in the office this evening?”

“Eva…”

She regarded him with steely eyes, a veil of studied indifference over her face.

“Please, talk to me,” he almost begged.

He saw her swallow back her emotions, knowing that he’d put a small chink in her armor. At least, he thought he did, until he saw her eyes harden again. “I’ll be happy to talk to about anything work-related, Mr. Frost.”

Adam watched as she morphed into a brisk and efficient executive assistant. Her gaze was distant, she never looked directly at him. She moved around her office, hanging up her coat and bag, opening mail, as he stood and stared at her. What had he done?

“Eva, will you talk to me about last night? About Las Vegas? About us? Please?”

She stopped feeding papers into the shredder, the papers clenched and crinkling in her hands. She didn’t turn around to look at him when she spoke. Her voice was low, but her meaning was clear.

“No,” she said, “we don’t have anything to talk about. I also don’t care about last night. I’m trying to put Las Vegas out of my mind. Business, Adam. That’s all there is between us. That’s all there’s ever been between us. Employer and employee. Beyond that, there is no us. Now, Mr. Frost, is there anything else I can help you with? If not, please vacate my office. Your being here attracts unwanted gossip, and to be honest, annoys the hell out of me.”