Diary of a Bad Boy(33)

It’s going to happen. I’m going to kill her.

Right here, in her dad’s business, I am going to murder his one and only child.

Not even bothering to knock, I whip the door open, causing Sutton to jump drastically in her chair and spill tea all over her desk.

Hand to her chest, breathing hard, she glances up at me in utter shock. “Roark, what the hell are you doing?”

With my foot, I slam the door closed, then I lean over her desk, hands gripping the wood, my eyes narrowed. “Why the fuck haven’t you answered your phone?”

“What?” She genuinely looks confused.

“I sent you multiple texts and called. Are you trying to punish me? Is that your game, Sutton?” I’m positively seething and there’s no chance I can pull it back, not when there are too many unwanted and fucking confusing emotions flowing through me right now.

“I . . . no.” Scattered, she reaches for her purse and digs around while sopping up the tea with some napkins. “I don’t have my phone on me. It’s . . . here it is.”

Fuck.

I reach for it. “Give me that.” She doesn’t need to see my texts. She sure as hell doesn’t need to see my asterisk usage.

She pulls away quicker than expected, scooting her chair away and hitting the wall behind her. She clutches the phone to her chest and says, “No. This is my phone.”

“It was mine for a while.” There is maturity and logic buried deeply within my demand. “Now give it.” I hold out my hand.

Head thoughtfully tilted to the side, she says, “What don’t you want me to see or hear?”

“Nothing, just give it to me. I need to check . . . uh . . . for poison. There was rat poison all over my apartment last night, and I want to make sure it didn’t get in your phone.”

“You’re such a liar.” She looks down at the screen and her eyes soften. “Aw, you used asterisks.”

“Christ,” I mutter, turning away, hand in hair.

“And you called.”

“Well, you’re not dead, so I’m leaving.”

“Wait.” She races out of her chair and rounds her desk where she pulls on my hand to keep me in place. A wave of lavender hits me all at once as she tugs on me, forcing me to look at her. “Roark, you were concerned.”

She’s not going to let this go. I can see it in her eyes. Sighing, I say, “Yeah, okay. I was concerned. I expected you to be in the guest room, so when you weren’t there, I thought that maybe you tried to go home, and when you weren’t answering your phone, I thought the worst.” And Harris wasn’t on shift, understandably, so I couldn’t even fucking ask him when she left.

Her fingers lace with mine, and I know I should pull away. I know I need to discourage the intimate hold, but for the life of me, I can’t. Not when I have this weird sensation to make sure she truly is okay.

“I set an alarm this time, figuring you wouldn’t be up for a while given your state last night, and I went back to my place to get ready for work.”

I nod. “Yup, makes sense.”

Her hand reaches up and fidgets with the lapel of my jacket. Christ, she’s way too damn close. “Thank you for checking on me. It makes me think you actually do have a heart.”

“A small one, but it’s there . . . on occasion.” Knowing I owe her an apology, I suck up my pride and try to keep my hands to myself, even though my fingers are itching to push her hair behind her ear.

Eight years younger.

Client’s daughter.

Sweet and innocent.

Not the kind of girl for you.

No. I’m not the kind of man for her.

Subtle reminders as to why I need to keep my distance.

“Hey, I, uh”—I pull on the back of my neck, I’m not good at this apology thing—“I’m sorry about yesterday, and how everything went down with Siri. I had a long conversation with her, and there’ll be an apology made from her as well.”

“I don’t care about Siri. I mean, I kind of do.” She glances at the ground. “I care about how you treat the work I value. You act like it’s a joke when it means a lot to me. I’m not here to chase you around. If you really don’t want to help, I can do it all myself, but I ask that you give me the phone numbers for the celebrities who can assist at the camp. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

When the hell did I gain a conscious?

“I’m sorry, Sutton. I wasn’t . . . in sending Siri, it wasn’t to undermine you or your job. And I certainly didn’t think about how it would look regarding your dad either. I’d never disrespect him, Sutton. Please believe that. I’m kind of an arsehole and don’t recognize when I’m hurting someone.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually apologizing,” she teases as I pull away, needing some distance.

“Yeah, well don’t get used to it. I’m feeling bloated this morning, off my game, so you got lucky.”

She chuckles and takes a step back to sit on her desk. “So, are you going to help me?”

Why does she have to look so goddamn beautiful in this tiny-as-shit office? It’s doing things to me, especially when those ridiculously long eyelashes of hers flutter, pulling back like a curtain to reveal giant pools of blue.