“But—”
“You think you’re getting curious looks now?” he cut her off. “You have no idea what I can buy to make those whispers louder.”
Bristling at his plan, she shook her head. “You’re threatening my career. This power imbalance between us is unfair.”
Vihaan scoffed, a lopsided smirk replacing his previously tense features.
“You’re right. Itisunfair. Are you going to quit work?”
“No!” Her palms came up to rest against his chest, ready to push him away. Instead, her fingers curled into his suit. “You told me you didn’t want me to quit!”
“I don’t. That leaves you with one option—report me to HR.”
28
Claim
Vera
“Report me,” Vihaan saidonce more, without a waver in his voice. The air shifted, charged, neither daring to look away and accept defeat in this unspoken challenge.
“You don’t mean that,” Vera whispered.
“Don’t I? I’ve left a trail of messages you could use against me. You could’ve destroyed my image by revealing the things I’ve said to you—I can think of ten gossip rags who’d pay you an obscene amount of money for something like that. I’ve given you every opportunity to follow through on your hate for me, and you haven’t taken it. Why?”
Her inability to answer him frustrated her.
“I feel it too,” he confessed, reading her conundrum as though it was his. “This thing between us that comes alive when we’re together? I don’t understand it either. It is maddening, and illogical.”
Transfixed by her, he dragged the tips of his fingers down one cheek, trailing it lower, down the center of her body, between her breasts, sliding it along her satin blouse before resting it at the dip on her waist. Vera’s mouth fell open while she tried to remember how to breathe, every gentle caress leaving a trail of infernal heat in its wake, the firmness of his hand branding her through her clothes.
When she finally spoke again, her voice was rough, like she’d been smoking for years. “What do you propose we do?”
“Stop thinking,” he advised, looking no less troubled. “Stop fighting me. Stop trying to make sense of why we keep gravitating towards each other. Keep my flowers on your table, drink my coffee, eat the damn food I send to you. Once some fuckers finally get a clue that you aren’t available, I might be more amenable to reducing the frequency to something you can live with.”
“F—frequency?” she stammered, feeling oddly bereft that his hand fell away. “Is this a negotiation for how many gifts you can give me or how often we’ll be sleeping with each other?”
“Both.”
“Are you trying to stake a claim on me?”
“You finally noticed,” he muttered. “I don’t share, Princess. Not the things that belong to me.”
“Stop this barbaric bullshit,” she scolded, pushing away from the wall to brush past him. “I am not athing.”
“I stand corrected.”
“And I don’t belong to you.”
“Wrong.”
With a speed that left her breathless, Vihaan caught her arm and drew her closer, trapping her between the desk and him.
“Are you crazy?” she squeaked, when he lifted her easily, setting her onto the smooth tabletop instead of letting her leave. His free hand slipped about her nape, holding her captive while he dipped his head toward her. Rough lips met her chin, drawing lower to trace her delicate skin.
“The door,” she eked out, her pulse pounding where his mouth settled.
“Locked.”