Chapter Eight
1313 Words
Chapter Eight
Bang!
The door slammed open, and Trent flinched back from Adalia’s knees. She swiveled in the chair. Her heart sank then was set ablaze with burning hatred.
Michelle Van Heerden stood in the doorway, staring at them with her hands on her well-shaped hips. Thin and comely at the same time. She was the perfect woman with her long, blonde hair and her plush ‘b*****b’ lips.
“What are you doing here?” Adalia snapped out each word with so much force that Michelle shuffled back an inch.
She strode in a moment later, flashing a confident smile. “I came to find Mr. Dawson.”
Trent rose to his feet. “You’re a warning away from getting fired, Michelle. I’ve had enough of your interruptions.”
“Sir, I had an important call from Mr. Harrington regarding a business endeavor.”
Trent quirked his left eyebrow. “That is surprising. I didn’t think I’d hear from him again.” He glanced down at Adalia but she refused to be humiliated.
Sure, she’d walked in n***d and argued with Trent in front of old Harrington, but she wouldn’t apologize for it. He’d broken her heart and destroyed her trust. It was only fitting that she did something drastic.
Besides, she’d only wanted to confront him.
“Yes, he’s most interested in pursuing a deal with you, in spite of citing personal reasons for his last drop in communications.” She pointedly stared at Adalia, who wasn’t about to take this crap from her. She stood and slid in close to Trent’s side.
Their hips touched and that electricity sparked, mingling with her irritation at Michelle’s appearance in their office. It was their office, Adalia’s as well, not just Trent’s, which meant she had as much say over what happened in it.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Ms. Van Heerden. We’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“Yeah, that looked like a real serious meeting, Ms. Montclair,” Michelle said with a sweet tone in her voice, but the intent was clear.
“Michelle, watch what you say. I’m not going to warn you about insubordination again. I’ve given you plenty of chances and I’m running short on patience now,” Trent said.
“Finally,” Adalia whispered to herself and only Trent heard. He pinched her lightly on the a*s and she gave a low yelp, a mixture of shock and desire.
Michelle unbuttoned the top button of her V-neck cotton shirt. It plunged, revealing her cleavage and a thrill of jealousy passed over Adalia. Why did her main ‘competition’ with Trent have to be a f*****g playmate?
Van Heerden’s grin widened – as if she’d heard Adalia’s thoughts – and she purred out another sentence. “As you wish, Mr. Dawson. I didn’t think I’d interrupt anything when I came in here, I apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” Trent replied, then went around to the other side of the desk again, releasing the need Adalia had for him. Time slowed and she breathed in the fading scent of his cologne.
“Yes, I assumed Ms. Montclair would be in the bakery where she belonged.”
“Where I belong? I’m co-owner of this establishment. This is my office as much as it is Trent’s.”
Trent opened his mouth and she made a swift chopping motion with her hand to silence him.
“And what do you mean ‘where I belong’?”
“Oh, no offense meant, I simply meant you’re the head baker or chef or whatever it’s called, so I figured that was where you’d be.”
Adalia narrowed her eyes then swept invisible dust off the surface of the table.
“And of course, the position suits you so well.” Michelle said, with a vindictive smile.
She met Michelle’s gaze again, but didn’t ask the question on the edge of her lips. What do you mean?
Van Heerden continued, one hand still on the door handle, the kitchen bustling behind her, “I mean, at least I think it does. I’m not sure how many of the cakes actually make it out to the customers.”
“What the f**k does that mean?”
“That you clearly eat a good portion of them before they get out there. Don’t get me wrong, there’s no shame in tasting to see if it’s right, but eating that many cakes can’t be good for business.” Michelle pointed with her manicured fingernail, indicating up and down Adalia’s length.
“Shut up,” Trent said, in an even tone. “Don’t you ever speak to Adalia like that again. Do you understand me?”
“Sir, I didn’t mean –”
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes, I understand. But I think it’s outrageous that you’re taking her side over mine when we’ve been in business together for years and –”
“The only reason you have this position is because your father was friends with my father. Don’t kid yourself that I need you in this firm. You are on your last leg, Van Heerden, and you can bet I will have no problem phoning your father and telling him just how badly you’ve been behaving of late.”
Michelle went the color of the walls, whiter than white, then turned a vague shade of green. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I think it will be necessary. You’ve overstepped your boundaries too many times,” Trent said, bending over some papers on the desk, nonchalant, unconcerned by Michelle’s reaction to his words.
It was the best business practice Adalia had seen. If only she had a pen and pad to take notes – Trent was masterful with this stuff. And a lot of other... stuff.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dawson,” Michelle hissed, raising her shoulders. She buttoned that shirt up again and didn’t look at Adalia. Her cheeks reddened under scrutiny.
“You don’t sound very sorry.” Trent clicked on the mouse beside the computer and settled into the chair. “You sound like you’re asking for me to give your dad a call.”
“Please don’t. I’m sorry for my behavior, Mr. Dawson.” Michelle softened her tone to a near-whisper, but Adalia didn’t buy it for a second. She wasn’t sorry at all. Man, what she’d give to get this chick on her own and give her a serious talking to.
“I’m not the one you have to apologize to,” Trent said, finally raising his gaze to meet his assistant’s. She gave a tiny shake of her head, in denial or disbelief, her eyes flickering to meet Adalia’s then back again. “Express your remorse to Adalia for your actions.”
“Trent –”
“Now.”
Michelle’s entire body gave an almighty twitch. She stared at Adalia, scorching her with pure hatred. “I’m sorry.”
“Good. Now get out of this office and tell Mr. Harrington I’ll call him back in an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied then turned on her heel and fled. She slammed the office door in her wake.
“God, it’s like dealing with a teenager,” he said.
“Thanks for that, but I could have handled it.” Adalia was stiff and the sentence matched her body. She didn’t need emotional or financial charity from him, but she’d loved seeing him take Michelle down a peg.
Trent went over to the plant and examined it. “Did you know this is fake?”
“No, I didn’t, but what does it matter?”
“Plants are good for breathing. Good aesthetic.” He came over to her and slipped his arms around her waist. “But then, what better aesthetic than to have you in the room, Ms. Montclair.”
“I don’t feel like being played today, Trent,” she replied, trying and failing to wriggle away from him.
“I never play games, Adalia. You should know that by now. I was so sure I made myself clear with you.”
She shuddered against him, taken in by the smell of his skin and the intensity of that stare. There was no question about it... if she kissed him, she’d fall under his spell again. She’d lose her strength and sanity... she’d let him take her on the desk.
Her mouth went dry.
“Yes,” she said, “you’ve always been clear with me.”
“Good.” Trent brought his mouth to hers, but she slipped her index finger onto his lips and pressed him away.
“You’ve been very clear. You’re a player and I promise you, Dawson, I don’t have time for your games.”
Adalia went back to the bakery, throbbing for him.
- Writer
