Chapter 10

He’s a joker. Right. Got it. Don’t take things so literally!

“I know you don’t.” I smile coolly, outwardly un-phased despite irregular heart-pounding and crazy goosebumps hitting my skin. I’m annoyed at myself.

“You don’t need to be so … stiff around me, Emma.” He relaxes back in his chair, dropping his hands on the arms casually.

“Stiff?” I stare at his eyes, avoiding following the motion of his hands. A mild irritation flutters within me that successfully dampens anything else; I’m not good with male criticism.

Especially about my demeanor.

“You can thaw a little. I know you’re efficient. You won’t get sacked for relaxing.” He looks amused, but annoyance churns down low inside of me. I have come to do a job and I have pride in my professionalism; it’s the one area where I know I excel.

We can’t all be laid back, Mr. Born Into Money. We don’t all have the ability to sway people with a smile, have charmed lives with happy childhoods and irresistible faces.

“This is me relaxed,” I respond tightly, training my expression to not betray my mood.

As relaxed as you’ll ever see me, Mr. Carrero, seeing as I’m paid to do a job not pander to your ego.

I pout inwardly, avoiding a direct look. He raises an eyebrow at me and breaks into an unguarded smile, confidently handsome, and yet this time it irks me.

“If you say so,” he responds, with that irritating smug look he has that’s the other side of Carrero. It’s that face that makes women drop their panties in a blink, but he also has this annoying male know-it-all impishness and arrogance, like he’s always on the verge of a good joke. It has to be one of his most infuriating qualities.

“So, to the CEO of Bridgestone …?” I say with a tight tone, raising my eyebrows and tapping my pen on my notebook, indicating we should move on. I disapprove of his overfamiliarity. As much as I’ve seen him this way with Margo, I’m adamant that this working relationship will stay on a professional level. I have too much to lose. I’ve worked too hard to get here.

He frowns at me, holding my gaze for a moment, unphased, but I ignore him, then look down at my paper expectantly, relieved when he sits back and dictates what he wants me to note down.