Page 11 of Abyss

Her breathy gasps, the rise and fall of her chest, and the flush that sweeps over her cheeks whenever she’s embarrassed.

Her fucking heart-shaped lips . . .

She’s the definition of a walking, talking migraine.

“Alright.” Belinda raises and drops her arms to her sides in exasperation. “Fine, I’ll tell her to go home because, for whatever reason, my boss doesn’t find her to be a good fit. But guess whatyou’regoing to have to do?” When I chance another glance at her, she flashes me a smug grin that says she knows she’s on the verge of victory. “You’regoing to have to tell your daughter why you fired her friend without a fair shot. And rest assured,thatwill not be an easy conversation.”

My hand balls into a fist around a pen as my molars grind, and I recall the promise I made to Maddy at the end of our dinner—to give her friend the benefit of doubt and a fair shot.

I rub my temples with the tips of my fingers, watching as Belinda struts back toward the door with her nose in the air.

Goddammit!How do the women in my life always seem to get their way?

“Fine,”I grit, keeping my voice low and my eyes trained on my screen, stopping her in her tracks. “Keep her. But I swear to God, Belinda, the second she becomes a bigger headachethan she already looks like, I’ll fire her and bring you back with that newborn of yours. So, make sure to train her well.”

With her hand on the doorknob, Belinda turns her head to the side, and I don’t miss the triumphant smile flickering at the corners of her lips. “Yes, boss. But just so you know, it’d be illegal for you to ask me to come back during my leave. I’m pretty sure I can sue you for the gazillions you wipe your ass with, so unless it’s to congratulate me on my new bundle of joy, don’t call me.” She flips her hair off her shoulder. “Oh, and that’s definitely not a threat; it’s a promise.”

I glareat the white plate, covered in see-through plastic wrap, for the tenth time.

A swirl of Nutella decorates the slice of pound cake under the wrap. Even from its place at the corner of my desk, the sweet scents of vanilla, chocolate, and butter seep through the covering, agitating my senses. It’s the same scent that lingered inside my nose days after the restaurant incident, and now I feel like my fucking brain is floating in it.

And the small orange Post-It note with the words,Thanks for chasing away the rainstuck to it? It’s pissing me right the fuck off.

Who the hell bakes a cake for their first day of work?

She came in an hour ago, trying to be confident with each stride toward my desk, though I didn’t miss the way she fiddled with the bottom of her blazer. Not that I was looking, since my eyes never left my laptop.

I also never wondered if said blazer was her own or if she borrowed it from her boyfriend because she got dressed at his house this morning.

I never wondered about that, but the thought managed to piss me off, regardless.

“I . . . I’m learning to bake.” Her soft voice, the same as I remembered from the restaurant and then from this morning, grated against my ears. “I got this recipe book called Thirty Easy Bakes to Know by Thirty. I’ve been trying each recipe, and—”

“Ms. Jain, as riveting as your culinary endeavors sound, I don’t have time for the diatribe.” I didn’t spare her a glance. “Please make sure you close the door on your way out.”

A pink tint had settled at the tops of her brown cheeks when she dropped her eyes to her clasped hands and nodded, abruptly turning to leave. But before she made it through the door, I’d glanced up, not knowing exactly why I was holding my next words with all my might at the tip of my tongue.

To stop her?

But why the fuck would I want to stop her?

If this was going to work, then there was no reason to become too familiar. There was no reason to let her think I appreciated gestures of the type. I’d gone down that route in the past and look where it landed me—with my girlfriend in bed with my brother, and a betrayal that rocked the foundation of the company I’d worked so hard to build.

In any case, in three months, she’ll be on her way to her art therapy job to do whatever the fuck it is that art therapists do, and I’ll still be running a multi-million-dollar company here in California.

So I dropped my eyes back to my computer, but not before letting them trail down to her exquisite ass, full hips, and thick thighs, practically ripping the seams of her denims.

I’ve never been attracted to thin, fragile-looking women—the types that look like they’d break in the arms of a six-foot-two, two-hundred-plus-pound man. My eyes are magnets for round hips and soft curves, a round and plentiful ass. There’s something so hot about being able to grab handfuls of a woman’s ass, watching it bounce while being buried deep inside her.

As soon as the door clicked, I shoved those thoughts right out of my mind. As it was, I wouldn’t be able to get out of my seat sporting the boner inside my pants for a good time to come.

The woman is my daughter’s friend, half my age, and from every encounter till now, somewhat of a hot mess.

Not only that, but acting on or eventhinking aboutsomeone who was now working for me was out of the question. Not that I was even remotely interested in her.

I’d broken that rule in the past—dating someone from our marketing department and thinking I could trust her, only to have her stab me in the back, right alongside my brother. I’d be a fool to go down the same road again.

No matter how sweet and innocent the woman sitting at Belinda’s desk looks, I don’t know her, nor do I want to. Sure, Maddy’s opinion of her holds weight, which is why Kavi even has the job, but it won’t be the reason I let someone cross the boundaries I’ve firmly set.

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