Lex(15)

Sitting down on one of my leather guest chairs, he props one of his expensive dress shoes on his knee, getting overly comfortable with a cup similar to mine clutched in his hand. His elbows pretentiously resting on the armrests, everything about the way he sits exudes copious amounts of confidence, cockiness and unadulterated power.

Leaving me, once again, with the conclusion he’s a douche—even though he is beyond a beautiful man, with his light green-blue eyes, medium brown hair perfectly styled with just the right amount of gel and a light dusting of dark facial hair, providing him with that permanent sexy five o-clock shadow. That typically makes most women swoon. Which, I’m sure he’s fully aware of that effect on women and probably graces his bed with those dopes on a nightly basis. I bet he’s one of those men who has little bags with a toothbrush and toothpaste and other toiletry items that he gifts them in the morning before kicking them out with a blueberry muffin and a cup of coffee to go. Or he could be a Christian Grey; he is a lawyer after all. And it wouldn’t surprise me, if he had them sign a nondisclosure clause when he ties them up in his bedroom and beats them senseless, then fucks them once they’ve passed out from the pain.

Okay, now I’m really projecting my own issues onto this man. I’m sure he can’t be the kind of a monster Brian was. I pray no one is that type of monster.

Eyeing me, not saying a word he glances around my office and back to me. “It’s tea, Lex.” His smooth voice, that no doubt woos women to bed, states.

“Did you poison it?”

Yes, that was a bit forward, but I had to ask.

Chuckling, he shakes his head with a slight grin. “No, I didn’t poison it. It’s tea from Barbie’s; I picked it up before I came over. I figured you’d like it, Lex.”

The way he says my name it’s like he’s fucking it, all smooth and sensual, with a slight hissing sound at the end. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.

“Don’t call me Lex. Only friends call me that. And let’s face it, you, Sir, are not my friend.”

Yes! Point for Lex, I am seriously upping my game today. Apparently, jerks bring out the best in me. Sassy Britches would be so proud.

“Listen…about that.” He sits forward in his chair, like he’s uncomfortable.

With an attitude, I raise my hand to stop him from speaking and thankfully, he catches my drift.

“No, Mr. Masterson, you do not get to discuss your rude behavior with me. Tell me why you are here and then please leave. I have a meeting at eleven and lunch at Dolly’s at noon. So please get on with it. I’m a very busy woman.” I cross my arms, resting back in my chair and cross my legs. Even though I know, he can’t see them behind my desk. I’m full of attitude today. I wish I had this much confidence all of the time.

“I’m your eleven o-clock meeting; I just came in early to talk with you about it and to apologize. Barbie said that was your favorite tea, and I got one just like it for myself. I figured a classy lady, such as yourself must have good taste in drinks. I was right. This is the best tea that I’ve ever tasted.” He smiles, and I frown, rolling my eyes.

Classy lady? Phul-ease… First, I’m a spoiled brat who makes a man sign a contract under sexual duress, and now I’m classy. Whatever.

“Please, leave your assumptions, whatever they may be about me…outside. Business time, now out with it.” I snap. I’ve had more than enough time with him in my office. He keeps looking around like he’s going to find something to point out to tease me about. Good thing I have impeccable taste and my office expresses that in full force.

“Okay, sorry…Le…Ms. Keagan. Donald is coming in with the other representatives from Saks, including a woman named Rebecca Songs, to replace Mr. East. We have some documents that Kim, your lawyer, will need to review before we decide if we will escalate this through the judicial system or not. I wanted you to know firsthand that I’m trying to expedite this matter without having to step in front of a judge…”

“How noble of you.” I roll my eyes, cutting him off, and I bite my bottom lip, to keep myself from chewing his head off. I realize the pompous ass is doing his job, but I don’t have to like it.

“Stop doing that.” His sharp husky tone fogs the air.

Squinting in confusion, I open my mouth to ask him, ‘What?’

“Biting your lip.” He explains, beating me to the punch, shifting awkwardly in his chair and sucking hard on his tea, swallowing the mouthful of its contents with a loud gulp.

“Why?” My stronger voice has suddenly flipped a one eighty, to weak and small. Maybe it’s my adrenalin plummeting, or maybe it’s, how his Adams apple bobs in this throat so sexily when he swallows. I have no idea. However, the climate in my office has changed from disdain to something else entirely.