Page 90 of Carnal Games

Is that better than him being angry?

After the disaster that was this morning, I’m nervous about how to act around him. Is another thing I do going to set him off? I get he’s my boss, but I hate the impersonal distance he’s trying to create between us by asking me to address him as Mr. Singhania. As if there’s not a million reasons already separating us.

Having him so close yet oceans apart is torture.

Wreck-me-into-a-million-pieces type of torment.

I want to talk to him, touch him, laugh with him, and ask why he lives alone. Who hurt him so bad that he became so cold and detached from the world? No one is born heartless. It’s circumstances, people, the world that crushes someone’s soul to make them so.

“It’s nice,” I answer him, crossing my hands on my lap.

“You haven’t sat still since the car started moving.” The timbre of his voice drops an octave as he asks, “Am I making you nervous?”

Nervous, crazed, obsessed, aching, starved, and lust-drunk.

The last one is the most overpowering in this second, being cramped in the compact interior of the car. Up close, his body seems muscular and larger from the way his suit jacket stretches around his thick biceps. Leaning back with one leg crossed over the other, his broad shoulders flex as he shifts. He’s taken up all the space, making me feel small and feminine against him.

It’s heaven and hell, wanting to climb him like a tree.

I’m irrational when it comes to him.

I feeltoomuch.

That’s the root of the problem.

“No,” I lie, gazing out the window. Then defiantly huff, “You do not make me nervous, Mr. Singhania.”

By the time our five months are up, he’ll be begging me to call him anything but that.

The car begins to slow down, signaling our arrival at the destination. I reach for my purse when Kian’s suave voice caresses me like the wind, causing my heart to bang against my chest.

“You may call me Kian when we’re alone. But never when we have company.”

My grip around the strap of the purse slackens as my stunned gaze shoots to his. Did he just bend his own rule? For me, no less?

His face is unreadable.

As if letting me peer behind his sky-high walls will be the death of us.

My heart feels like it’ll burst from my chest. I can’t help but tease, “Does this mean you’ll call me Iris too?”

The corners of his eyes twitch. “I think I’ll stick to Miss Mannan.”

Yet it still feels like a big win.

Blinding sunlight filters in as the driver opens his car door, breaking the soft trance. For a breathtaking second, he does look like a reaper incarnate with the light casting a dark shadow behind his back.

I blink against the light when he steps out.

The driver rushes to my side and does the same. Kian, a chivalrous gentleman, waits until I round the hood to be beside him before walking toward the sliding glass doors of the high-rise. Though it’s not as tall as his building.

Last night after receiving Kian’s text, I studied about the meeting. We’re meeting with a possible vendor for developing security hardware at Kinetic Securities after we recently dropped the previous one due to a disagreement while renewing the contract.

“Hello,” I smile and murmur at the security guard who greets us good morning while holding the gates open until we step inside.

The man actually jerks back in shock that I spoke to him, which makes me feel a little sad. Just because his job isn’t as fancy or high-paying as ours doesn’t mean we can’t spare two words to them. Nothing gives me the ick than people who look down on others.

We’re supposed to meet the manager on the sixth floor, so we directly trot toward the elevators after informing the receptionist that we’re here.

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