Page 29 of Out of Office Nights
She’d just watched him burn all but two of the sketches she’d painstakingly spent the whole day working on. That urge to scream spiked again.
She swallowed it down. How had she thought he was anything but what she’d labelled him? He’d been toying with her emotions all along.
Just like…
She speared her fingers through her hair, more to dislodge thoughts of Nathan than anything else, but there was disappointment as well.
‘Are you going to say something or just sit there?’ she threw at him.
He studied her, arms folded across his chest as he perched with one hip propped against the dining table, watching her unravel.
‘Are you taking pleasure in this?’
‘Pleasure? Not entirely,’ he repeated the phrase from before, annoying her even further.
A rough sound escaped from her, unable to be bottled.
For some reason that made his eyes glint, almost encouraging as he watched her pace. Sabeen forced herself to stop and face him, mimicking his posture with arms folded. ‘What the hell is going on?’
‘You’re upset because I’m not hailing your first venture as some extraordinary breakthrough.’
Yes, she wanted to snap. Her gaze swung to where her sketches were now nothing but ash. ‘I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that,’ she said, anger destabilising her voice.
He remained unmoved, not even bothering to glance down at the two sketches he’d deigned to keep. ‘I spent seven hours sketching them.’
‘And in those seven hours, all you did was welcome your muse to take a seat and put its feet up and then refuse to make it work for you. Besides all you’re doing with these barely adequate offerings is indulging the fear gripping you.’
Her mouth dropped open, words failing her at how shockingly intuitive he was. ‘It still doesn’t excuse you burning my work.’
‘No? How else will you do what you promised? How else will you stop wasting time on the surface?’
She gathered her anger like a protective cloak. Her euphoria was completely extinguished, but the panic hadn’t returned with it. Instead determination burned through her. Determination to prove him wrong. Determination to be able to throw her brilliance in his face.
‘The next time you burn my work, we’re done.’
‘Next time you produce mediocre work, I won’t need to burn it. You’ll burn it yourself,’ he predicted in that soft rumble that so mesmerised her.
‘It infuriates me that you think you know me on any level.’
His mouth twitched. ‘I’m aware. Right now, you’re torn between slapping my face and getting back to sketching, just so you can show me how brilliant you are. You’re going to do neither.’
‘Wanna bet?’
Silver eyes turned molten. ‘Will you risk slapping me, knowing what might happen if you did?’ he queried gruffly.
Anger turned to desire. Which she pushed far away, ignoring the fireworks fizzling through her.
She forced her eyes to roll in exasperation. Then froze when he slowly straightened and ambled over to her. His arms unfolded to brace his hands on his lean hips.
He wasn’t going to kiss her. She didn’t want him to. Did she?
‘If you’re about to ask me how I feel, then you must be blind,’ she hastily said.
‘As much as this show of temper intrigues me, I’m more interested in the appetite it’s worked up.’
She frowned. ‘I’m not—’ She stopped herself.
Because, in fact, shewashungry. The hours had sped by again after lunch, and it was approaching sundown when he’d inspected her sketches before casually strolling across the room, lighting a fire in the hearth, and to her shocked anger, burning her work right before her eyes.
