Page 10 of Flirting with My Billionaire Enemy

He has a big enough head. He doesn’t need to know I’m wildly attracted to him. That is a secret I must protect at all costs—even if he did guess I liked him at the club. Wait a second. He already knows I like him. I’d pretty much admitted that when I first met him. But that doesn’t mean I need to remind him.

“It’s unprofessional of me to have brought it up. It won’t happen again.” I need him to believe me. I can’t lose this job. My stupid, stupid mouth. I’m berating myself on the inside, but I keep my face neutral, with my armor of professionalism on. That armor has helped me get to where I am today. It’s helped men take me seriously. It’s one thing to be a woman in the workplace, but it’s even harder to be a woman of color.

Kaison doesn’t comment further on my accusation that he’s easily distracted by beautiful women. To be honest, I’m making myself out to be a hypocrite today because I’ve been struggling to stay focused all morning. Kaison is one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever spent time with. Sure, there have been attractive men at my other jobs, but no one came close to Kaison’s level of hotness. And there’s definite chemistry between us, as much as I don’t want to admit it.

I have to focus on this project. I can’t afford to be distracted by the owner’s son. He’s probably spoiled rotten, anyway. I tell myself that, but I still know that, regardless of that, he’s hard working and did earn his spot at the top of his class at Stanford.

We go over the procedures and financial standing of the company in great detail until it’s five minutes past three and my stomach lining is about to turn inside out—either that or growl so loudly that Darlene from HR could hear it on the other side of the building.

“I’m going to need to take a break for lunch.” I stand.

He glances at his watch. “Whoa. How’d it get so late?”

“You know what they say. Time flies when you’re saving the company.”

“You make us sound like superheroes or something.”

I crack a smile because it does kind of feel that way.

“You know, you really ought to smile more.”

My smile drops. The tiniest thing—just a smile—and he’s already borderline hitting on me. Fill in the blank, and it’s easy to assume he thinks my smile is pretty. Which does nothing but weaken my stance in this company. It’s like there’s this scale. The prettier you are, the less competent you are. It’s a shame that it has to be that way.

“Hey, why the gloomy face?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I head to the doorway and stop, glancing over my shoulder at him. “I’m going back to my office to eat my lunch.”

“Okay. Should we resume around four?”

“Three-thirty. There’s too much work to do to take an hour for lunch. And I brought a sandwich, so I don’t have to heat anything up.”

“See you at four then.”

I turn back around and head next door to my new office. It has a gorgeous view of Atlanta, and I can see the cars already backed up in traffic on the interstate. It’s a good thing I live close to the office and can take back roads. Getting stuck in Atlanta’s traffic will suck away your soul until you’re nothing but an empty husk. I was lucky to find a job near the apartment I share with Farah. I used to work about twenty minutes away from home. If I ever tried to come home between the hours of three to seven, that commute turned into an hour. Eventually, I learned to take the train.

I get out my lunch and open my laptop to get in a few words on my story. It feels like I’m finally getting close to finishing this thing after a lot of years of blood, sweat, and tears. I’d better be finishing it because I’m getting to the point that I’m sick of working on it. Just when I think it’s perfect, I get feedback from another publisher or agent saying it still needs work. I can’t express enough how frustrating that is.

But this scene is one of my favorites, and I’m quickly sucked into the story. I must have lost track of time because Kaison appears by my side, scaring me half to death. I’d been so drawn in by my book that I hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Whoa. You just scared the living daylights out of me. What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?” I demand. I twist to look up at him, and his eyes are on my manuscript.

“Did you write this?”

“I—” My mouth is hanging open so wide a fly could buzz right in there. I snap it shut. I think about lying, but what would the point be? He’d probably just catch me working on it some other time. “Well, yes. I did actually.”

“This is really good. Are you planning to publish it?”

“Well… It’s a long story.” I don’t really feel like telling him how many times I’ve been rejected. It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. Each of those rejection letters is a black spot on my heart. Who ever knew how painful this process could be? I mean, sure, people are always talking about how competitive it is, but you never really get that until you’re in the middle of it.

“You either are, or you aren’t,” he says.

I save the document and exit my word processor. “We should get back to work.” Better to stick to professional—safe—topics than to reveal too much of my painful writing journey to Kaison.

Because, let’s admit it, I don’t want to open myself up to him emotionally. There’s no telling where this might lead.

6

KAISON

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