Page 17 of Abyss

She’s somehow louder than the blaring sirens inside my head, warning me not to get involved, reminding me that her problems aren’t mine. That I have several of my own I still need to heft my way through.

My eyes track back to Belinda, noting a hint of something new in her expression—an awareness of something I’m clearly not privy to. The corner of her mouth pulls into a slanted smirk before she rests her hand on her belly. “You can ask her yourself . . .afteryou apologize.”

Workingmy hands into the pockets of my suit pants, I clear my throat. “Ms. Jain, can I see you in my office?”

Kavi’s hands stall over her keyboard, though I’m not sure she was even typing anything—merely pretending as soon as she saw me in her periphery.

Belinda murmurs something about needing to use the restroom and waddles down the hall before Kavi swipes me with a side glance.

Her long dark lashes flutter before her nostrils flare so slightly, I’d miss them if I wasn’t looking closely. “Why? So you can humiliate me again?” She turns, pulling a sheet of paper out of the printer. “Well, you can save your breath, Mr. Case, because—”

“I’m sorry.”

Jesus, fuck, those words practically burned my tongue ontheir way out. It’s a good reminder why I don’t use them often.

Kavi’s hand hovers in the air with the paper hanging from her pinched fingers, her nails polished orange. Her mouth falls slightly agape. “Excuse me?”

I exhale a hard breath. Is she expecting me to repeat myself?

Because I don’t do that.

“Ms. Jain, if you’re thinking I’m going to clasp my hands in front of you and beg for your forgiveness, you’ll be waiting a while. I said I was sorry, and that’s about as much as you’ll get from me.”

She rises from her seat, her hand trembling as she releases the paper on her desk before she tucks a strand of that shiny, wavy hair behind her ear. Today, there are plastic kiwi slices dangling from her ears, matching the kiwi on her shirt and the shiny green skirt that tightens delectably over her hips.

The woman has . . . eclectic taste, that’s for sure, and I’m not even counting the orange Doc Martens on her feet. Clearly, she has a thing for the color orange, too.

She wraps her arms around her chest, and the movement causes my gaze to dip to her ample cleavage.

Did I just ogle her cleavage and hips?

Not for the first time in her presence, my cock stirs inside my pants, and I remind myself that she’s twenty-five. Younger than my own daughter.

I’d pulled up her HR records, including her age and address, in the conference room before I exited. Apparently, she lives on the other side of the damn Bay. Getting here by car is shitty enough every day, having to take not one, but two subways would drive a person crazy—especially given the hours I expect her to work.

“Then, I guess I’ll have to think about your apology, Mr. Case, given I don’t really know what you’re apologizing for.”

It’s my turn to open and shut my mouth before I repeat her previous words. “Excuse me?”

Is this the same jittery woman who’s been nothing but a ball of nerves during all of our interactions? Because right now, she reminds me of the other two women in my life, with her eyes flashing and her upright stance.

She lifts her chin, her rapid blinking and the rise and fall of her chest the only indication of her apprehension. “Over the past week, I not only lost a job because of you, but I’ve been publicly shamed in front of my new colleagues—”

“Both of those things were your fault!” I seethe.

“Well, then I suppose you have no reason to apologize, do you?”

I raise my arms, letting them fall to my sides. “And yet, here I am!”

The woman is infuriating. A contradiction of bold and timid, soft and unyielding.

Innocence and sin.

Her face hardens before she turns, running her hands over her hips and giving me an eyeful of that fucking peach ass. She settles in front of her laptop again, speaking to it as if I’m no longer present. “Clearly, you need lessons in expressing contrition, because if that’s your form of an apology, then I don’t accept.”

I swear I hold in the growl ready to expel from my throat with everything I have. My hands fist at my sides as I sear her profile with my glare. “Your choice. It’s the best you’re going to get.”

And with that, I storm down the hall to my office for the second day in a row.

---