MILES MEDIA
The flooring is black marble and, like everything up here, it just feels expensive.
“Hello Kathryn.” Leonie smiles, she looks me up and down. “You look lovely today, dear.”
“Thanks.” I smile as I wish the earth would swallow me up. “I have something on . . . after work.” I make an excuse for looking the way I do.
“I love it, you should wear this every day.”
I fake a smile. Kill me fucking now.
“Just go through, he’s expecting you.”
I walk down the corridor and close my eyes. God, what was Daniel thinking making me wear this? It’s too over the top. I knock softly on Elliot’s door.
“Come in,” his deep voice calls.
I close my eyes as I steel myself and I push the door open. “Hello.”
Elliot glances up from his computer and then looks back down; he then does a double take and his eyes rise and look me up and down. He sits up as if suddenly interested, and holding a pen between his fingers he says, “Hello Kathryn.”
I grip my folder with white-knuckle force. “Hello.”
“Please.” He gestures to the seat at his desk. “Come in.”
I walk in as his eyes drop to my toes and then back up to my face for the second time today, and he leans back in his chair as if pleased about something.
I raise my eyebrow. “What?”
A trace of a smile crosses his face. “What, what?”
“Why do you look like that?” I ask.
“I was just going to ask you the same question.”
“Oh.” I glance down at myself and feel like I have to justify my choice of outfit. “I just—”
“Look lovely,” he cuts me off.
I stare at him, unsure what to say next. I swallow the large lump that is lodged firmly in my throat. “The report?” I stammer.
“Yes.” His eyes hold mine. “Let’s do that.” He points to the seat with his pen and rotates his chair back to his computer. “I wanted to go through a few points. I’m unsure how to read the data.”
“Okay.” I sink into the chair.
He looks up and narrows his eyes as if processing a new thought. “A new perfume.”
“What?”
“You’re wearing a new perfume today.”
“No, I’m not,” I snap. Oh, hell on a cracker . . . this trying to be sexy is a disaster.
“Yes . . . you are. I know your scent.” His eyes hold mine. “And . . . today it’s different.”
He knows my scent . . . what the fuck?
I frown as I stare at him. “Umm . . . ” I give a subtle shake of my head, completely flustered. “I don’t know, maybe you haven’t been around me when I’ve worn it before.”
“What a shame.”
I drop my head in confusion. Is he flirting with me?
I don’t get it: for seven years I’ve known this man, despised him, and thankfully been immune to his charm. I’ve watched every woman around me in the office fall desperately in lust with Elliot Miles and I could never see the attraction.
For the life of me, I didn’t get what they saw in him.
Today, I do.
I open my folder as a distraction.