The O Intention(10)

Oh, boy. Private. The way he says it has my belly tying itself in knots. It could be worse, I suppose, and at least he remembers my name.

Abruptly, she nods her head and her curls bounce. “Not at all.”

Dread rolls through my stomach once again. This is not going to be good. I’ve never been one to regret my actions. I’ve always taken responsibility and moved forward, but right now, in this moment, I regret last night. I regret it hard.

Jesse adjusts his dark grey suit jacket and turns on his heel. I take immediate notice of his posture. His shoulders are broad and rigid, aggressive almost. At his sides, his hands clench and unclench, and there’s a heavy stomp to his walk which is nothing like the light, sophisticated steps he took last night.

I follow him. The sound of my heels against the beautiful white and black tiles echoes in my head as I walk quickly with my hands clasped together. I ignore the way my palms sweat and my mouth dries. I don’t want to get fired. I like my job. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and bite the inside of my cheek. I do anything and everything I can to prevent myself from freaking out.

In a secluded section of the bar, in the far corner, Jesse turns and gestures to a small, black seat. With a subtle nod, I drop into it and cross my legs. He doesn’t say a word as he takes the chair in front of me, but he keeps his brown eyes on mine and it locks me in place. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and threading his fingers together. He says nothing. For minutes, maybe hours, he says nothing. He watches me and I watch him, neither one of us willing to start the conversation we’re both undoubtedly dreading. I try not to breathe too heavily, or let my gaze slip from his. He needs to know that I’m not scared of him, that intimidation won’t work on me.

“How often do you prowl the bar where you work, looking for men to sleep with?’ He asks, obviously deciding to dive straight in rather than beat around the bush.

That sounds awfully familiar. Though, I’m sure it wouldn’t kill the guy to take his time and beat around the bush first. I can’t help it. I crack a smile. If he wants to play it like this, then fine.

“Why, are you jealous?”

His gorgeous eyes thin. “Hardly.”

Strangely, my blood begins to heat under his accusing stare and I like it. “Since we’re playing twenty-one questions, tell me; how often do you accept offers from ‘prowling’ women at the hotel you own?”

He takes offense—not obvious offense—but I saw the subtle way his hands tightened when I said it. “Never.”

I smirk. “Well, that’s a lie.”

His perfectly shaped jaw clenches. God. He really is perfect in every way... well, almost every way.

“Fine,” he hisses. “You’re the only one I’ve—” Jesse inhales sharply and holds it for a few seconds before slowly blowing it out. “Not often. I don’t do it often.”

“How sweet,” I tease, secretly getting off on the control I so clearly have over him.

I watch as he unthreads his index finger and taps it against the table’s wooden surface. Each thud sends vibrations through the wood, making my arms tingle, and my heart beat a little quicker.

“I could fire you, Alix.”

There’s a softness to his voice. Regret? Maybe. Sympathy? I’m not sure.

“But you won’t,” I say, the threat clear in my voice. “You’re in the wrong just as much as I am.”

Inside, my body is sweating and all my organs are clenching. I’m a hair’s breadth away from losing my job. My body knows it, but my face refuses to show it. Jesse’s clear brown eyes cloud over and his features pull together. He knows I’m right. He knows that last night happened only because he let it. I approached him, and I propositioned him, but he accepted.

“Maybe this isn’t about last night. Maybe I should fire you for having your handbag behind the bar.”

Once again, I smirk at him. “Firstly, there’s a three strike system implemented in this hotel so that would be strike one. Secondly, check the end of shift register readings for all of my shifts. I’ve never been down a cent. And lastly, check the security tapes.” I flick my eyebrows and widen my smile. “My hands are clean.”

He sits back in his chair and I try not to feel intimidated as his dark eyes scan my face. I don’t know what he’s looking for… another reason to fire me, perhaps? One that won’t make him appear bad either.

“Last night was a mistake,” he states—as if I didn’t already know that. “I don’t usually—I shouldn’t have—you—” He stops and takes another deep breath before speaking again. “Is there anything I can do to make sure last night stays between us?”