Page 8 of Big & Bossy

It didn’t help that I could feel the little bit of warmth from his skin still on the fabric of the shirt he’d lent me.

That I could smell his cologne.

The same cologne that he wore during university.

“So, if we’re in agreement,” Harry said, the words slowly filtering in through the fog. “Then we’ll be in charge of the communal spaces, the offices, and the executive rooms. You’d like them all to be uniform in design, correct? So it’s all cohesive?”

“Yes,” Jackson responded. The word almost sounded biting, as if he’d prefer it were me up there with the clicker and pointer.

“Do you have a color and design scheme?”

“Colors should match the company’s logo and branding, which I’ve included in the paperwork I have here for you. Design scheme: think minimal but sleek, futuristic but not tacky. We’re a tech company, so it should feel like a tech company.” Jackson lifted the briefcase he’d walked in with onto the table and opened it. He pulled two stacks of alligator-clipped papers and slid them across the desk. “You’ll find all of the details in there from color to design to building plans and layouts. You two will also be given express permission to be on site from security so you can see it for yourselves.”

Harry took the stack of papers and flipped through them quickly, scanning each sheet with his eyes. “This is more than enough information,” he chuckled. “Normally our clients don’t give us this much.”

“I like to be thorough.”

I shouldn’t have taken this contract. Even though he was thorough, even though it would be fairly easy for us with the amount of specification he had, this was a horrible idea from the start. I doubted his threats held any actual venom behind them, though based on our last interaction before today, hurting me seemed fairly high on his list of things he enjoyed doing. But I’d never known him to be vindictive.

It was a new low for him if that was his plan.

Being this close to him again, his scent on the shirt I was wearing, brought up too many memories of the past.

Back in New York.

All those nights at the arcade, all our time spent studying side-by-side in the library, him reading over his engineering textbooks as I poured over my interior design ones. Late-night coffees, the occasional party…

Our last night together.

I hated thinking about that night.

I’d given fucking all of myself to him.

I’d let him in.

I’d slept with him.

Given him my v-card.

I had agreed to be exclusive, whatever that meant in college. I’d done it even though I knew better. I’d seen firsthand, time and time again, my mom getting fucked over by men she slept with, dated or married. All but my dad. But men like my dad were few and far between, and I didn’t stand a chance of finding one as good as he was.

I definitely wouldn’t find it in Jackson.

“Is that everything?” I asked, directing my gaze at Harry rather than to Jackson.

“I believe so, yes. For now anyway.” Jackson sighed, leaning back in the creaky leather chair he was sitting in. “I would appreciate it if you two could keep me updated during the beginning stages.”

“Of course, Mr. Big,” Harry said. He gathered the paperwork in front of him and stuffed it into his bag. “We’ll be in touch.”

I stood before he dismissed us, feeling like a disobedient child getting out of their desk chair before the bell rang. I didn’t want to stay a moment longer—I did not want to be around him, his cockiness or his moodiness. He stopped me before I’d even reached the door.

“Miranda,” he said. I hated when he used my full name. Actually, I hated when anyone used my full name. “I’d like my shirt back at the earliest convenience.”

I dug my fingers into the sleeve of the shirt, gripping it to keep myself from swearing at him. “No problem, Mr. Big.”

————

As I drove along route seven, my windows down and the stereo on, I had two options: Take the next left and head back to the office, force myself to be a person for the rest of the day, and have to talk to Harry about everything that happened while wearing Jackson’s shirt. Or I could take a right instead, head home, and go for a run, allowing every single annoying thought in my mind to be stomped out with each step.

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