Page 32 of The Butterfly Effect
“Good afternoon,” I said to the group, waiting expectantly for them to look at me. She avoided my gaze until I cleared my throat. “I am closing the office down early today. Please go home and enjoy the holiday with your family. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Julianna narrowed her eyes while the rest of her team celebrated, thanking me excitedly. I considered pushing her buttons and forcing her to respond to me, but the look in her eyes was clear. She had spent her entire day off thinking about me. Nodding at the group, I turned and walked back to my office, shutting the door behind me.
I stayed at my desk for an hour before deciding to call it a day. There would be plenty of time to work from my office at home during the long weekend. I threw on my coat and grabbed my things, stopping in my tracks when I opened the door to my office and Julianna was still sitting at her desk. She was beautiful when she was focused, her stare intensely set on her computer. The glow of the screens casted light on her face.
She didn’t seem to see me walking up to her, but her sigh was audible. She kept her gaze on her computer and didn’t turn to me.
“Julianna, I sent everyone home an hour ago. What are you doing here?”
“I’m just catching up on a few things,” she said quietly. Then she mumbled to herself, “Not like I’m going home for Thanksgiving anyway.”
Her voice wasn’t sad, but she wasn’t happy, either. “Why aren’t you going home for Thanksgiving? Don’t you have family?”
“I do, and I love them, but they can be a lot. I told them I had to work.” She shrugged, finally turning her head towards me.
“What will you really do?”
She laughed, an easy laugh that made her eyes light up. “Honestly? Probably eat pumpkin pie and drink red wine until I’m sick to my stomach.” She shrugged before a light pink colored her cheeks, and she quickly diverted from her confession. “Why aren’t you going home?” The look of defeat in her eyes was tainted with pity. She wasn’t spending Thanksgiving with her family, but she felt bad for me because I was doing the same.
“How do you know I’m not?” I raised my eyebrow at her, crossing my arms.
“I just assumed. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I told them I had to work.” A half smile pulled at my mouth, and when she smiled back at me, a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how badly I’d needed to see her smile after she ignored me all day. “Let me take you to dinner tomorrow.” The words had rolled out before I stopped to think about them.
She arched her eyebrows. “Dinner?” Her voice was coated with suspicion. I couldn’t blame her for hesitating after the last couple of days.
“Yes.”
Julianna leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up and making her cleavage pop slightly out of her V-neck T-shirt. “Why?”
“Because it’s Thanksgiving and nobody should eat Thanksgiving dinner alone. Strictly professional.” I winked, enjoying taunting her and seeing her eyes light up with a frustrated fire.
“Professional… so not a date.” Doubt covered her face. Would she be the first woman to ever tell me no to dinner, date or not?
I chuckled. “I don’t date, remember?”
“How could I forget?” She rolled her eyes, providing a display of forced annoyance to mask what seemed like pain. “Fine. Why not?”
When she gave her unenthusiastic answer, there was a small wave of victory I wasn’t used to. “Great. I’ll pick you up at 5:30 tomorrow. Now go home. I’m leaving and locking the office behind me.”
She sighed but listened, shutting down her computer and tossing her phone in her bag before throwing it over her shoulder. I wanted to bend her over and take her over her desk the way I did mine, but there was pain in her eyes that I didn’t want to make worse. Making her scream in the middle of the office would make us both feel good for a while, but I let her lead the way to the elevator, locking the door behind us.
I spentmost of the day trying to figure out what to wear for dinner with William. What do you wear out to dinner, but not on a date, with your boss you’ve slept with? Nothing in my closet was good enough, and by the time I settled on something, most of my clothes were in a heap on the bedroom floor. I went with a pair of skinny jeans adorned with holes and a black, off-shoulder sweater. The black heeled booties I paired it with were my favorite because of how long they make my legs look. I left my hair down in loose curls over my shoulders and wore mostly neutral makeup aside from bold red lipstick.
I looked in the mirror again after adding a pair of simple gold studs to my ears. It would work. I was ashamed to think about how badly I wanted him to like my outfit. As he said, it wasn’t a date.He doesn’t date.I sighed and checked my clock. 5:29.
When there was a knock on my door, sudden nerves fluttered through me. I grabbed my purse and opened the door with a deep breath. William was standing there, more casual than I’d ever seen him. He had on a pair of jeans that looked like they were custom tailored for his body and a black sweater with the sleeves slightly pulled up that showed off his muscles too well. The tattoos on his arms peeked out from beneath the cuff of his sleeves, and when he moved his hand, the muscles in his forearm rippled. I rolled my lips together when he moved his gaze from my face down my body.
“Hi.” I kicked myself for not being able to come up with something cleverer. The man in front of me rendered me speechless. I was more aware of the line of his jaw under his well-trimmed beard and the broad muscles of his chest. I was drawn back to the end of the knife tattoo on his arm, and when I dragged my gaze back up his arm to his face, there was a small smirk there. His already dark eyes darkened further when I met his stare.
“Julianna. You look nice.” His voice was almost a groan, and I was suddenly happier with the outfit I had chosen. He eyed my bare shoulders and moved his eyes down my figure. I bit the inside of my lip. Nice was the professional way to say hot as fuck, or at least I hoped so, and a small wave of confidence ran through me.
A smile tugged at my lips as a blush continued to rise on my cheeks. “Thank you. You don’t look half bad yourself, Mr. Carlisle.”
His smile disappeared, and he half rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Are we really doing that?”
“Doing what?” I tried to feign innocence with a shrug as I pushed his buttons, but I could never keep a straight face when I needed to.
