Page 7 of Jacob

I’ve turned into the dumbass that cares about what I wore today and how I look right now, behind this boardroom table. For a boy. A man. Definitely a man.

A gorgeous, tattooed devil in a white shirt.

Jacob finally makes eye contact with me, and my heart skips a beat. “I was asking if you had time to read the email I sent you this morning and if you are able to attend London with me next month for five days? I need you.”

He needs me.

He adds, “Frankie can’t make it.”

He doesn’t need me at all. Not personally. It’s strictly business.Stupid girl.

“Oh.”

“Is that a yes or a no, Skye?” His brow wrinkles as he waits for me to answer.

I clear my throat. “Yes, I can attend.”

Five days. Alone. With Jacob.

Goddammit.

“Good,” he says curtly. “Okay, thank you, everyone. You can all go.” He stays rooted to the spot.

As if a veil has been lifted from my eyes, I’m seeing him in a whole new light.

My brain is working overtime, and I need to get out of here.

I push my seat back to leave along with everyone else, but Jacob stops me. “Skye, stay seated please,” he barks, making it sound much more like a demand than a request.

My breath hitches in my chest. If he mentions Saturday night, I might die.

“Someone’s in trouble.” Shona, Jacob’s personal assistant, squeezes my shoulder as she passes me.

“Shut up, Shona,” I hiss and she laughs back at me.

Jacob storms over to the frosted glass door and bangs it shut, making me jump.

He lets out a heavy breath and swivels on the balls of his feet. Walking back toward the table, he lays his hands flat against the tabletop, arms spread wide, and glares at me. “Do you mind explaining this shit, Skye?”

“Explaining what?” I feign innocence.

“This.” He lifts a piece of paper and dangles it in front of me before ripping it into pieces and throwing it in the trash can.

I clear my now fossil-dry throat and croak, “I can’t stay here, not after…” I look up at him as he storms toward my chair.

I suddenly feel tiny in comparison to his six-foot-two, broad-shouldered frame.

“You’re not resigning, Skye.” Displeasure bounces off of him, filling the room with tension.

When I wrote that letter last night, it seemed like such a good idea, although in hindsight, it feels like I’ve made the worst decision. I love my job, but how can I stay after what happened between us?

“I must apologize for my behavior and for…” I struggle to grit the words out. “Watching you.” I whisper my last two words and turn my head the other way, unable to look at him. “It was very unprofessional of me.”

“We both crossed a line. A line that we won’t cross again. We scratched an itch. End of story.”

I sneak a cheeky glance his way as he straightens to his full height, folding his thick arms across his broad chest.He’s gorgeous.

“Skye?”

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