Page 9 of Under Construction

"Someone's got to make your amateur designs actually work." Chris leans in, voice dropping. "Face it princess, you need me. Your whole project needs me. Without my fixes, your sustainable dream would collapse faster than your daddy's faith in your abilities."

Dennis’s next breath catches in his throat. "Shut up,” he manages to grit out before he swallows.

"What's wrong? Hitting too close to home? Or is it just hitting spots daddy's approval can't reach?"

"I said Iearnedmy place here!"

"Did you? Or did daddy just get tired of you playing with building blocks in his office?"

"Why are you such a—"

"Such a what?" Chris's eyes glitter. "Someone who actually knows what they're doing? Someone who doesn't need family connections to succeed? Someone who makes you question everything you think you've earned? No, princess." His smile turns predatory. "I think I'm exactly what you need. Even if you're too proud to admit it."

Something in Dennis snaps.

Dennis slams his tablet down, the sound of expensive tech hitting flimsy plastic echoing around the room. "What thefuckis your actual problem with me?"

"No problem." Chris stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. He stretches again, this time with a full body twist that makes his back muscles ripple under his shirt. "Just pointing out facts."

He walks to the door, his steps lazy.Swaggery. Then he pauses. Pulls his phone out and starts tapping, humming under his breath.

“But if you want to know whatyourproblem is," Chris says, his tone casual. "It’s that you think you're such a big deal. Mr. Sustainable Architecture. Mr. Change The World."

"And you think you're God's gift to construction," Dennis bites back, weeks of frustration finally boiling over. "Like being able to read a blueprint makes you special."

"Oh, I'm special alright." Chris's grin turns wicked. "Want to see just how special?"

"What are you doing?" Dennis snaps, his patience so thin it’s see-through.

Chris turns his head, profile so sharp it almost slices the air. "Sending you something to remember me by." He smirks, and Dennis catches the expression from the side, the curve of Chris’s mouth way too smug.

Dennis’s phone buzzes. He looks down.

His eyes go wide.

"What the actual fuck?!" Dennis shoves back from the table. His chair clatters to the floor. "Did you just—"

"Frame it," Chris says with a wink, teeth flashing white. The jerk could give toothpaste models a run for their money. "Something that might actually impress you for once."

Then he's gone, his laughter trailing behind him.

Dennis stares at his phone.

At the very explicit photo now seared into his brain.

He should delete it.

He should report Chris for harassment.

He should definitely not be noticing how the lighting catches the curves and angles of the veins andof the thick, hard, lengt—

"Fuck!"

Dennis grabs his hard hat, the heat in his hand so intense it’s a wonder it doesn’t melt. He storms out of the office in a whirlwind of fury.

He finds Chris by the entrance, surrounded by his crew. They’re all snickering like they’re in on some kind of joke. All watching Dennis approach. Eye of the Tiger starts playing from someone's phone.

There are a few other people milling around, pointing at things, discussing next steps, though their eyes flick over to Dennis as he closes in on Chris.

---