Emerald Eyes (20 page)

Light pounding wakes me up.
 

I touch my hand to my forehead, realizing the pounding is coming from within my head. I squeeze my already closed eyes tighter and let out a groan.
 

Shit…

A gentle touch, just like a feather, strokes my arm.

“No… not yet Laura, let me sleep in today.” I whine.

“Who’s Laura?” a deep, masculine voice asks me.
 

I open my eyes and Mr. Miller’s face materializes before me. One of his brows is lifted and his gaze is cold.
 

“What are you doing in my bedroom?” I ask horrified.

 
I jackknife up and the change in position is so abrupt, the pounding inside my head intensifies, while my stomach is protesting at my choice of hydration last night. I grab the sides of my head with both hands and whimper. The blanket falls to my waist, and I notice I am wearing a t-shirt… a very large t-shirt.

“We’re not in your bedroom, we’re in mine. Here, this should help.” Mr. Miller holds out a glass with some weird green drink, and two aspirins in the other hand.
 

I look up at him frowning, but silently take it.
 

The cocktail is poisonous I’m sure of it. It tastes bitter, sour, spicy and sweet.
 

What the hell is in this thing?!
 

After a few sips, I give it back to him but Mr. Miller shakes his head and says, “Uh-uh, all of it.”

I feel my face turn the same shade of green as I try to chug it all down. When I’m done, he takes the glass and walks away towards the door.
 

“Bathroom is that way.” Mr. Miller points to a door then leaves me all alone in his bedroom.
 

I sit there stunned to the core.
 

How the hell did I end up in his bedroom?
 

I try to remember what happened last night, but the furthest I can remember is dancing with Julia, Milan and Vera, after that it’s all muggy and intangible.
 

I inspect my surroundings and realize that I am indeed not in my bedroom, nor am I wearing my clothes.
 

Did Mr. Miller undress me?
 

I look under the t-shirt. No bra. I check for my panties, still there… thank God.
 

I try to calm myself but anger bubbles up at the thought of his insolence. To take me to his home, undress me and take care of me after making a fool out of me last night.
 

Screw this! I don’t need his favors.
 

When I rise off Mr. Miller’s bed, I notice the pounding has lessened and I’m not as queasy as before. I find my dress and bra folded neatly on an armchair. I grab them and head to the bathroom. When I walk inside, I stop in place. Mr. Miller’s bathroom is huge, as big as his bedroom.
 

Wait… why am I reacting this way? I saw big luxurious bathrooms before… maybe it’s the thought of him naked under the hot stream, the steaming water cascading down his heavenly body…

Ugh… I kind of hate him right now.

I place my clothing on the marble counter, and notice a brand new pink toothbrush, still in the package, lying next to the toothpaste.
 

Did Mr. Miller buy it just for me or did he have this already?

I tear the package open angrily and squirt some toothpaste on the toothbrush. Agitated, I start brushing my teeth.

I’m sure he has a drawer full of them for his sleepover ‘guests’.
 

My brushing becomes rougher. Then I stop brushing and look at myself in the mirror. Eyes burning with fury and bedroom hair…
 

Slowly, I take out the toothbrush, spit the remaining toothpaste and rinse my mouth.
 

Why am I even thinking about this? Who cares if Mr. Miller had it already or if he bought it just for me? He’s a jerk and a player.

I strip down and walk into the spacious shower.
 

Twenty people could fit in here…
 

I look around for the showerhead, finally finding it embedded into the ceiling. I find the panel with the thirty different knobs and settings, and set it to what I want. As I wash my hair and inhale the heady scent of Mr. Miller’s shampoo, my mind goes into overdrive as different thoughts bombard my brain. Eventually, it boils down to just one thought.
 

I should quit.
 

This situation is impossible, hot and cold, it’s not going to end well. Mr. Miller’s playing with me and I’ve already started falling for him. And his constant rejection will damage me. I know it. I can’t keep being his toy-thing. Men never played hard-to-get with me, it was my trick not theirs. Yes, I have decided. I’m going to get dressed, come out and resign. I’m sure I can find a different job.
 

But can I?
 

Can I truly find a job with this type of salary? To keep my apartment, my car and my head high… can I say for certain that I could find a job that has these hours with a high paycheck, without any experience? I honestly don’t know… I don’t think I can.

Out of frustration, anger and the feel of complete helplessness, a sob escapes me and tears spill down my cheeks, mingling with the hot water.
 

No. I won’t go back home defeated.
 

I will shield my heart from him and become a perfect employee. If I want to date someone, I will just keep it from him.
 

I am not his marionette.
 

After a quick shower, I put my bra and dress on. I look down at my panties and decide to go commando. I’m not into wearing the same panties a second day in a row. I rummage through his drawers until I find a comb. I entwine my damp hair into a side braid and wipe the black smears of mascara under my eyes. Picking up the t-shirt I slept in, I look for a laundry shoot or a hamper. I find a big brown wicker hamper and toss it in.
 

I stand in front of his closed bedroom door, trying to calm my heart and rein my nervousness. I take deep breaths until I feel myself composed.
 

I am going to thank him for taking care of me last night and get the fuck out of dodge.
 

I open the door and follow the hallway. Rounding the corner, I walk into a dinning room, finding a ready breakfast for two on the table. From what I saw so far, Mr. Miller’s apartment is quite warm and inviting, yet very masculine. The floors are polished dark wood, and the walls are painted with warm, sandy hues with different paintings and sculptures hanging tastefully. Making me believe, he’s the one who chose the art in his office.

I ignore the ready food and keep walking until find Mr. Miller in the living room. He’s sitting on a cream colored couch, dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans, drinking a cup of coffee and reading some papers.

As if he senses me, Mr. Miller looks up and our eyes lock. Instantly, my breath catches and my heart is threatening to leap out of my chest.
 

Why does he have to be so devastatingly gorgeous?

“I – I’m sorry for being rude to you this morning. I wasn’t aware where I was.” I force the words out. “Thank you for taking care of me. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”
 

I look away from his eyes, focusing on the impressive
showcase cabinet
because I feel like I’m about to cry, and there is no way in hell I’m letting that happen while facing him.

“I’ll leave you to enjoy your day. Could you please hand me my purse?” When my eyes scan the room, I find my pumps and purse at the foyer.
 

“You’re welcome, and I wasn’t troubled.”
Mr. Miller
places his cup on the coffee table.

“I have prepared breakfast for us, which I’m sure you’ve seen since you walked in from the dinning room, yet you still want to leave.” His arctic tone matches his eyes as he looks frostily at me.
 

I take a deep breath, “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I need to get home. I apologize for not being able to stay for breakfast. Excuse me.” I walk out of the room and into the foyer.
 

I grab my purse and shoes then quickly open the front door to escape. The door slams back into place just when I manage to open it halfway. Then, I feel Mr. Miller’s breathe on my neck. I look up at the door and see his hand flat against it, his muscular arm stretched out.
 

“Don’t go.” He whispers.
 

I let out a shaky breath as I start to tremble, fighting the tears that are stinging my eyes.

“What do you want from me?” I snap.

“You. I want you.”
Mr. Miller
murmurs then kisses the exposed side of my neck.
 

His soft lips on my skin zap me into awareness and I turn away from him, feeling the anger rising in me.

I will not be played with!

“You want me, but you can’t have me, right? That’s what you told me last night. If you think I’m buying this bullshit again, you’re wrong. Dead wrong!” I move away from him again but he keeps following me.
 

“Let me finish – “

“There is nothing you can say to convince me to get beneath you! Now let me go. I want to go home.” I feel my mask cracking. Little pieces of my precious wall are crumbling down.
 

Damn it.

Mr. Miller’s
brows furrow and I see anger flaring in his eyes. “Shut up and let me finish… I – “ while he’s talking, I find an opening and shoot past him towards the door. Not even halfway there,
Mr. Miller
grabs me. I’ve never stood a chance.
 

His long, strong arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back against his rock hard chest. I start squirming and wriggling out of his grasp but it is hopeless. He pushes me down on the couch and restrains me. His hands pinning mine above my head, and his knee down on my thigh.
 

“Enough.” he commands.

I stop fighting and look at him. His eyes are calm, beautiful turquoise like the Caribbean Sea and while I gaze at his beautiful face, I feel my heart breaking some more. Unable to hold back the tears anymore, I look away.
 

“Let me go. Just let me go.” I plead.

“I can’t.” he whispers then drops his forehead on my temple. “I’m not going to let you go. I want you and I’m not letting your job get in the way. Not anymore.”
Mr. Miller sucks a breath through his teeth.
 

“The though of someone else having you makes me want to rip someone’s throat out. I want you mine, all mine,”
he
says with passionate finality.
 

My heart races as his words sink in.
 

Is he serious? Does he really mean it?

I turn to look at him again and feel the tears escaping my eyes, slipping, and running down my temples.

“Are you serious? Or is this another game?” I ask anxiously.

“I’ve never been more serious, Katherine. Give me a chance to show you, don’t run.” He whispers, pleading.

I look into his spectacular eyes, searching, looking for any signs of dishonesty, but all I see in their depths is warmth, hope and honesty.

He really means it… he wants me…

I suck in a shaky breath as my heart somersaults in my chest with happiness.
 

“Well, I’m not quitting so you’re gonna have to fire me.” I joke.

“Fine. You’re fired.”
Mr. Miller
swoops down, softly pressing his lips to mine.
 

“What?! No! You can’t fire me! I was just kidding, I can’t lose this job!” I panic.

He frowns lightly, “All right, all right you’re not fired, calm down. Why can’t you lose this job?”

Oh hell… I do not want to get into this now.
 

“I just know I won’t be able to find another job with a hot boss like you.” I give him my sly smile.

Mr. Miller
narrows his eyes a little, but lets it go.
 

Thank God.

“You bet you won’t.” he whispers then kisses my tears away.

“Now let’s feed you some breakfast.” he smiles sweetly and my heart melts into a warm pool of goo.
 

God, he’s magnificent.

Mr. Miller
pulls me up and leads me to the dinning room. He pulls the chair out for me and settles into his after I’m seated. I inspect the plate this time with more attention. Sunny-side up eggs, turkey sausage, toast, fruit bowl, coffee and orange juice.
 

Just like our first breakfast together on the jet.
 

I look up at him, “Did you really make all this or there’s going to be a maid popping out of nowhere?”
 

“I did. I’ve been cooking since I was thirteen.” He smiles.

Thirteen? Why didn’t his mom cook or a maid?

“Try it, I promise you’ll like it.” he cuts a piece of sausage then bites down on it with a wink.

I try to smother the smile that’s trying to break out but I fail. His face is just to damn adorable. I dig into the food and after finishing half of my plate I manage to look up at him.

“Wow… you’re pretty amazing, this is delicious.” I smile.
 

Thank God one of us knows how to cook.

“Thank you. What’s you’re favorite food?”

“I’ll tell you if you answer my question first.” I set down my utensils.
 

Mr. Miller puts down his fork and his face turns serious.
“Sure, ask away.”

“What made you change your mind? About me I mean, what changed?”

He nods and takes a deep breath. “What do you remember from last night?”

“Not much. I don’t even know how I got here.”
 

“Hmm… ok. Well, you started drinking after you stormed out of staff room. And you were clinging to that Will all night long. When I saw you two getting ready to go, I knew I couldn’t let you leave with him. I stopped you two… do you remember that?”
Mr. Miller’s head tilts slightly to the side.