Collateral Damage |+18|

4. Your disasters are mine.

4. Your disasters are mine.

Defne.

The f*****g bastard.

I hate him.

I swear to God, I hate him with every single cell in my body.

"Defne, calm down," Kacey says, handing me a cup of chamomile tea. "Here, drink this."

"He moved up the date of the first delivery, Kass," Levi says, fully understanding the magnitude of what that i***t Matheo Slade announced today when he came to watch me again in my cubicle.

Worst of all, I know the client didn’t ask for any advance. This is his doing and his alone… because he wants to screw me over.

Was the incident on the first day really so serious that he’s this determined to fire me?

And even though my reasons for being here aren’t completely transparent, I’ve been so careful with the information my father has asked me for—giving him only tiny crumbs of what he truly wants to know—that I wonder if I should keep protecting Matheo after the hell he’s put me through these past few weeks.

"What time do you have to show him the first delivery?"

"Tomorrow first thing in the morning," I answer.

"If you want, I can stay late with you and help you finish," Levi says casually, taking a big bite of his apple.

"I couldn’t ask that of you, Levi."

"I’m offering, and I don’t mind. I’ve got nothing to do tonight."

"That’s great, Levi," Kacey smiles, accepting for me. "I’d stay too, but I seriously doubt I’d be any help. I don’t know anything about design."

"And I’m the best at it," Levi adds smugly, preening like the peacock he is. "Come on, we’ll do it together. Don’t worry."

I nod, because it really is the only thing that can save me right now.

[…]

I’m sure it’s past ten, and Levi and I are still here, side by side, working relentlessly on the project.

"You’re good," Levi admits, tracing the design of a billboard I created with his index finger. "But you’re still a newbie, Defne. You take too long on each design. And that’s going to be a problem when they inevitably start assigning you the app designs the boss buys. I’m going to teach you a few tricks that’ll save you time."

I pay attention to every tip he gives me, and I have to admit he knows what he’s doing. I never doubted it. Everyone always goes to Levi when they need something—not just because he’s the best, but because he’s easy to deal with. His relaxed, laid-back attitude makes people feel comfortable. And even though his ego can inflate sometimes, he’s not a bad person.

"You’ve turned down every invitation we’ve made to go out," he suddenly says, without taking his eyes off the screen. "Don’t you have a social life, Defne?"

"Ha ha," I laugh sarcastically, turning back to my screen. "I just… haven’t had time to socialize."

"You’re really quiet." I don’t respond; I’m too focused searching for the information I need among all the Post-its scattered around me. But then he continues. "Do you at least have friends?"

"I have one friend."

"And where is he?"

"He’s in Kenya," I answer, still focused on my work, ignoring the fact that he’s staring at me wide-eyed until, after several long seconds, I turn to look at him, surprised by the silence. "What?"

"You have a friend in Africa?"

"Daniel’s a doctor. He’s doing volunteer work in Kenya."

"Seriously?"

I nod, feeling a bit nostalgic. Daniel and I practically grew up together, even though he’s a few years older than me. These last six months—when we’ve barely spoken except sporadically because of his work—have been depressing. On top of that, the constant terrorist attacks in the country keep my nerves on edge. I was so used to his presence that only in his absence did I understand how indispensable he is in my life. I didn’t even miss my ex this much when we broke up; though, after the s**t he pulled, no one would blame me for getting over that asshole quickly.

I shake my head and refocus on my work, trying to answer Levi’s relentless questions as best I can. Unlike me, he never shuts up. How can he work so well while his mouth moves at such an absurd speed?

"Come on, cheer up," he says when we’re done, pushing his chair back and resting his arms on the backrest as he watches me shut down my computer. "Come out with us tomorrow. I’m tired of hearing Kass ramble on about you and how you should be hanging out with us. Come on, you’ll have fun."

I open my mouth to accept, but a noise at the entrance cuts my words short. I go completely silent when I see Matheo watching us from the doorway; his gray eyes look darker than ever tonight. In one hand he’s holding a gray thermos, and in the other, his jacket and a black briefcase, leaving his broad chest covered only by a white T-shirt with the top buttons undone. With his hair messy and his beard grown out, giving him a wild look, I’ve never seen a more masculine man in my life. I quickly look away, resisting the urge to keep staring at him.

Even so, I catch him tilting his head toward us in a gesture that clearly asks: what the hell are you doing here so late?

"Defne and I stayed to finish her delivery for tomorrow," Levi says.

"Levi was helping me, since the deadline was suddenly moved up," I add with a slight edge in my voice, not breaking eye contact with him.

The corner of his mouth tightens just a little, but he manages to contain what I’m sure would’ve been a bitter grimace.

"Is that so, Mr. Miller? Are you helping Miss Sinclair?" he asks in that hard voice, looking directly at Levi.

"Yes, sir."

Matheo turns his face away and mutters something I’m sure isn’t meant for our ears; judging by his expression, it wasn’t anything nice.

After several seconds of silence, he asks unexpectedly,

"Are you heading out?"

"Yes, sir," Levi replies.

"Leave. I’ll go down with you."

In an uncomfortable silence, I finish packing my things and move toward him, shivering when, as I pass by, I inhale a hint of his scent.

I feel like hitting myself when I realize I can already identify his fragrance: wood and something much more masculine that I can’t quite name.

My feelings for him are so visceral they threaten to make me lose what little sanity I have left.

Inside the elevator, surrounded by these massive men, I feel so uncomfortable, and the tension in the small space is so thick I could cut it with my fingers.

"It’s really late—if you want, I can take you home," Levi says softly.

"Yeah, that’d be fi—"

My words die when the elevator stops at the ground floor and, at the same time, a warm body bumps into me from behind and then cold water soaks my entire back.

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

Because if he did, then he’s a dead man.

"Miss Sinclair, I’m sorry," Matheo says without a hint of remorse in his voice, finishing pouring the contents of his thermos down my back. "Come on, I must have something you can change into in my office. Mr. Miller, you may leave; I’ll take care of her."

While Levi remains inside the elevator, staring at us with eyes wide as saucers, Matheo repeats more harshly,

"You may leave, Mr. Miller."

Levi hasn’t even finished stepping out of the elevator when Matheo roughly slams the button, closing the doors in his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I shout, confronting him.

"I must remind you, Miss Sinclair," I glare at him furiously as he drops everything carelessly onto the floor and steps closer to me with a serious expression, "of the no-fraternization rule in my company."

I watch him in silence as he raises his arms and his hands go straight to the buttons of my blouse. A muscle tenses in his jaw, but otherwise his expression remains impassive.

My chest rises and falls sharply as his polished fingers undo the first button of my blouse, moving slowly to the second, then the third…

"Are you f*****g kidding me?" I growl, ignoring the shiver running through my body because of his intimate actions, because of the way he touches me without asking permission, as if he has every right to do so.

"No. I’m simply reminding you that any relationship between employees is forbidden."

"You’re telling me this while you undress me?"

"Unlike you, Miss Sinclair, I clean up the disasters I create." His gaze darkens as he pulls my soaked blouse out of my skirt, letting it fall open, exposing my breasts barely covered by the white bra I’m wearing. "And that’s exactly what I’m doing. Nothing more."

"You poured that water on me on purpose."

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me with a focused expression, running his thumb over his lower lip, looking so damn serious.

"Are you cold?"

I growl, because he’s clearly not taking me seriously.

"Why the hell did you do that?" I lose control, yelling at him.

He arches a brow, then reaches out and, with an almost imperceptible touch, slides his thumb over my n****e, protruding through the fabric of my bra.

I close my eyes, letting out the air in a sharp gasp, focusing on staying upright as my legs weaken.

"You’re cold," he hums, brushing the pad of his thumb over my n****e one last time. Then his touch is gone so fast I question whether I imagined it.

I open my eyes just as he leans in to drape his jacket over my shoulders, buttoning it until my entire torso is covered, replacing the blouse he himself ruined. The garment is so big it could swallow me whole.

His expression remains impassive the entire time, while I’m a bundle of nerves—which only makes me angrier: at him, at myself, and at the situation.

This man is driving me insane.

"You’re such a hypocrite," I say very quietly when his silence frustrates me. "You don’t have the moral high ground to warn me about Levi. I think you’ve crossed the professional line between us more than enough to—"

He grips my chin hard, lifting my face to his and forcing me to face him until my body crashes and rebounds slightly against his. His arm stretches out and coils around my lower back, and his eyes burn with pure, hot rage.

"The next time you need help because you can’t meet a deadline, you come to me," he tightens his grip, pressing his thumb against my lips, silencing me when I try to speak. "Listen to me, and let this be clear. If I ever see you alone with Levi at midnight in my company again, I’m going to lose my s**t, Defne. And it won’t be anything good."

I shake my head and push him, trying to break free of his hold. But his arm hardens around me, pulling me even closer to his body, lifting me onto my toes until our noses brush.

"He was helping me in a situation you put me in yourself," I hiss angrily.

"Next time you come to me, and I’ll get you out of that same f*****g situation myself, damn it."

"You’re—"

"No one else fixes the disasters you cause, Defne," he warns me. "Your disasters are mine. No one else’s."

I stare at him, stunned, because the man in front of me is the most irrational person I’ve ever met.

I don’t understand him.

I shake my head, unable to find words, silenced by this imperturbable maniac standing in front of me.

Furious, I shove him again, and this time he lets go.

I slam my hand against the elevator button, forcing the doors to open.

"My driver is waiting outside; he’ll take you home," he says in a voice so calm it only pours more fire into my veins.

As I step out of the elevator, I raise my hand and flip him off without turning to look at him. I can feel him behind me, following my steps. And just as I pass by the car with the man waiting outside—surely his driver—I veer off and keep walking.

"Defne!" I hear him call out angrily, but I don’t stop.

When I finally get a taxi, I get in without looking back. This attraction between us is very strong, I admit it, but giving in to it would be a colossal mistake. I can’t keep playing this game with him—not when there’s so much I could lose.

When I arrive at the apartment complex where I live, I see his car pull in behind the taxi, which tells me he followed me. I almost expect him to get out so we can continue our argument, but his car drives off as soon as I step out of the taxi and he sees me standing there, safe, on the sidewalk.

And then I understand: he was making sure I got home safely.

Inside my apartment, I fall backward onto my bed and let out the sob I’ve been holding in the entire way home.

Because I know it: Matheo Slade is about to complicate my life even more.