Chapter 21

What’s that supposed to mean? Because I don’t throw myself at you, begging to be mauled?

“Women usually flirt … making their intentions clear. Or just quiz the crap out of me,” he shrugs, un-phased by the statement he made and oblivious to how much of an ass it makes him appear.

“Women openly tell you they want to sleep with you, Mr. Carrero?” I ask pointedly. I had already assumed this was the case; the fact he expects it is a little repulsive. The fact he expected it of me makes me mad.

“Something like that.” He grins at my honesty, still watching me closely, his body turned toward me slightly.

“That must be nice.” I look out at the passing scenery, completely uncomfortable with the direction of this conversation, finding him highly inappropriate and praying to just get to Sunnyside quickly.

Only one more block to my apartment and I can get a reprieve from this crap. Why did I have to live so far?

“It gets old. I like being intimidating; that’s one I haven’t heard yet,” he laughs at me again, and I try to ignore it, hating that his laugh is still nice to listen to despite his flaws.

I cast him a shady look.

Must be so boring having women fall at your feet every day and tell you how gorgeous you are. Must be so hard to have been born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and no real problems in life except how sexy your outfit is that day.

“In what way?” he says in afterthought, turning his gaze back on me once more.

“In what way, what?” I am tense. I hate feeling this way. I watch my fingers carefully, making sure they stay steady on my lap, willing him to leave me alone.

“In what way do I intimidate you?” He’s finding this highly amusing, judging by the expression plastered over his smug face and the tone in his voice, which screams ‘tease’.

“Is this necessary?” I bristle tightly, sitting upright and showing no hint of my inner feelings.

“What? Wanting to get to know my PA a little better? I think so.”

Sure, if that’s what we call this ego fluffing.

“Probing,” I say evenly.

“I don’t think wanting to know why I make you so uncomfortable is probing. We’re going to spend the next few hours together; I think it’s necessary. It’s a novelty for me.” He looks smug without smiling. So talented.

“I never said I was uncomfortable; you’ve summarized what I said and concluded what you’re now pursuing. I merely said I don’t know you well.” He’s exasperating me now, and getting pissed at your boss is never a good career move. I try to keep my tone steady and unemotional, but even I hear the note of dry agitation in my own voice.

“My apologies,” he laughs in that disarming way he has, and I sigh angrily. He knows how to get under my skin and seems to enjoy it.

“Are you always this defensive?” he asks, still pushing.

For the love of God.

I need to muster all my strength to remain impassive.

“Are you always so informal with staff?” I retort defensively, gripping my jacket hem to try and keep my temper low and not show him how much he’s annoying me now.

“Emma, my staff are people I respect, people whose skills benefit me. I don’t see a need for them to act like a stuffed shirt because I employ them. I’m not my father.” I hate the way he’s studying me; I can feel his eyes on the side of my face, and I continue to ignore it, continue to act cold.

“You’re not like him. I met him; you’re nothing like him.”

In that he knows how to behave. He understands the boundaries between boss and employee.

“Good. I don’t aim to be.” He shifts in his seat. “We don’t exactly see eye to eye on most things.”