Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
There’s a collective exhale as everyone shuffles their notes and the head of Finance launches into a mind-numbing recitation of gross margins and year-over-year growth. Normally, I’d be laser-focused, but all I can think about is the fact that I dumped coffee on the most powerful man in the building. The man who could have me fired, blacklisted, and exiled to a Siberian branch office before my next pay cycle.
My brain short-circuits, running all possible escape plans at once. Maybe if I slouch enough, he won’t see me. Or maybe I can slip out to the bathroom and hide until he goes away.
I hear my name. “Ms. Stone, are you with us?”
Oh, sweet mother of humiliation. He’s staring directly at me now, one eyebrow raised. Not smiling, but not exactly mad, either. The entire room is watching.
I scramble for a response. “Yes, sir. Just, um, pulling up the data sheet.”
.suddenly aware of his presence. The room feels too small, the air too thick. I risk a glance over my laptop and see him listening to the presentation, fingers steepled, eyes heavy-lidded but alert. He looks… bored? Maybe even amused.
I tell myself not to keep looking, but my eyes move on their own like some kind of embarrassing heat-seeking missile. He’s just… there. Way too powerful. Way too gorgeous. Way the heck out of my league.
My heart does this weak, traitorous thing every time his gaze sweeps the room. When his eyes land on me, I swear my skin literally buzzes. I’m hyper-aware of the way my blouse clings to my chest, the trickle of sweat between my shoulder blades, and the pulse that’s hammering in places that have no business being awake in a business meeting.
I shift in my seat, crossing my legs, pretending to focus on my notes. Liar. All I can think about is how his voice would sound.
I let out a tiny, silent sigh, hoping to get through this freaking day so I can go home and eat an entire tub of rocky road ice cream. I deserve it.
The meeting drags on, a blur of charts and acronyms. At some point, Mr. Mercer interrupts a heated debate between Operations and HR with a single, perfectly timed, “That’s enough.” The heads snap to attention. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t even raise his voice, but the whole room resets, instantly.
At the halfway mark, there’s a break for coffee and pastries. I practically teleport to the back of the room, determined to avoid another collision. But even with the food table as a buffer, I feel his gaze. Every time I glance up, he’s staring at me with an unreadable expression. I suddenly feel like a bug under a microscope.
I try to focus on my croissant, which promptly sheds flakes down the front of my skirt. Of course.
“Mind if I sit here?”
I look up to find Gabriel Mercer himself standing directly in front of me, plate in hand. My stomach dives to my toes.
“Sure,” I manage, voice a full octave higher than normal. He settles into the empty chair, folding those gigantic arms across his chest and leaning in just enough to shatter the comfort of personal space.
“What a coincidence this is,” he says, dryly.
I nearly drop my croissant as I mutter, “The story of my life.”
His lips twitch. There’s a ghost of a smile there, but it vanishes before I can be sure. He glances down at my notes, then at my skirt, which now sports a constellation of pastry crumbs.
He leans in closer. “Relax.”
I flush so hard my earlobes burn. “Yeah, right,” I snort, and before I’m able to stop myself, I add, “That’s not going to happen.” What in the world? Is he like a human lie detector or something?
He cuts me off with a slight shake of his head. “You don’t have any reason to worry.” His voice is still low, but the hint of amusement is unmistakable.
Is he… flirting with me? No, that’s impossible. Stress has finally pushed me over the edge. But he keeps staring, those eyes drilling into me like he’s cataloging every last detail.
“I’m glad,” I mutter as it occurs to me that the rest of the room is totally silent. Like, so silent you could hear a paperclip hit the floor. I can feel everyone watching us, their gazes flicking back and forth between Gabriel and me like we’re the pre-lunchtime entertainment. Even Jonathon, who’s usually glued to his emails during breaks, is straight-up staring, mouth open just a tiny bit.
Oh my God. They’re all trying to figure out what in the world is happening here.
Gabriel just leans in closer, eyes burning into mine, and it’s like nobody else in the world exists.
As the meeting resumes, I avoid his gaze entirely, focusing on my furious typing. But I can sense him watching me. By the time it ends, I have a complete set of notes, a stress headache, and exactly zero idea how to handle this situation.