"She offered to have sex with him to win his favor. He took the coffee, not the burrito, which meant she has his favor but he doesn't want sex."
I flinch, clutching my chest as a deep manly voice rings from behind. The fork in my hand freezes for a good three seconds as Mark sits next to me with his food in the canteen.
I blink rapidly, looking at the man who is sitting right next to me while half of the canteen is empty.
"I wasn't even thinking about it," I frown, unable to hide my shock seeing him talking to me.
He is wearing a crisp sky blue shirt tucked neatly under his grey pleated trousers with a pair of brown loafers. He smells like citrus and fresh lemon, I will give him that.
"Just seemed like you were curious," he takes a large bite of his pasta, nonchalant and laid back. Yet I don't think he is just as easygoing as he looks.
"I was," I admit, taking a bite of my steak. "She looked like she would cry when Mr. Erikson just took her coffee."
"She was grateful," he adds, his eyes scanning the canteen with those same easy eyes. "Look," his eyes stick on one table on the purple left side.
I follow his gaze. It was a table of seven. Out of seven, Elena and another brunette are the women, the rest are men… over 40 if I'm not wrong.
Elena says something to the man who has two teeth missing from the front and he laughs so loud I wonder if his third tooth will fall out or not.
He leans closer and brushes away a soft strand of hair from her face, and he grins like he is the most eligible bachelor in London. And to my surprise, enough to make my mouth hang open in shock and disbelief.
Elena just blushes… or pretends… and slaps that man's arm playfully, and that man clutches his chest playfully.
"Ughh." I cover my mouth, feeling my food twisting in my stomach and threatening to betray my digestive system.
Satisfied by my reaction, Mark passes a water bottle toward me and nods, "You haven't even seen anything yet."
I feel a shiver all over my body and shake my head. "Not even interested." I flap a white flag of surrender. Mark just smirks in satisfaction, taking another huge bite of pasta.
"Is this a thing here in Laurent&Cie too?" I ask him, frowning my eyebrows.
He shakes his head knowingly. "Not common since London branch has two Young Masters of the Laurent Family."
I blink at the mention of Young Masters who are basically sons of the Chairman.
"But before them, it was common for women to throw themselves at the elder men in higher rank. The previous regional manager had five mistresses."
I gasp out loud. This man is giving me shocking pieces of info. And curiosity gets the best of me…
Yeah. Women love gossips. We can't help it.
"Then? What happened?" I ask curiously while chewing on my meat. Mark glances at me with a playful smirk dancing on his lips.
"Oh, you wanna know?" His tone playful despite his face not having any expression.
It sounds like a trap. Not gonna trust him. Nope… nope.
"Yes."
But I walk in the trap anyway.
He takes a sip of his iced water, flexing his fingers almost like he is getting ready to give away the spiciest piece of gossip.
"No."
My eyebrows crease in confusion and irritation. "Excuse me? You just started telling, I didn't ask!"
He shrugs his shoulders like it's nothing. "Now I don't want to."
Don't want to?
I grit my teeth hard. I glance at the knife in my hand and wonder—
"Steak knife can't cause much harm. You will need a butcher's knife to do real harm."
I throw a glare at him but he just chews his pasta in wild abandonment.
Why are every single man in this company such a pain in the ass?
I huff a breath and just cut my steak, thinking it's his neck I'm cutting.
"You aren't even trying to hide it, are you?" He speaks up again, voice way too annoying for my preference.
"Hide what? That I'm having thoughts how to stab this knife?" I stab it on my steak, turn my head toward Mark and give him a chilling smile.
His eyes widen a bit, he shifts a little further from me, blinking rapidly trying to hide his nerves. "Murder isn't allowed."
He tries to say calmly with the same nonchalance from earlier but his nervous glance across the canteen betrayed it.
I smirk evilly, like those villains in French Noir films, my voice drops, "I never said I am planning to murder someone."
He stiffs on his seat, aware and reluctant.
His reaction gives me a strange sense of pride. Even steak tastes better now.
"I heard you were with Russell Bank before?" He asks again…
What is the problem with this guy? Can't he just let me eat? I am already running on caffeine for last 20 hours.
"Yes, I was. I worked there for three years." My voice full of unshakeable belief that I'm doing him a favor by talking to him.
I expected some reaction but he just keeps eating.
I glance at him from the side of my eyes; he looks like he was having some calculation in his mind.
"If you want to know something, just ask." I add. I don't know why I did that.
Maybe trying to break the ice or just… it feels weird to have a silent weirdo next to me during lunch break.
His eyes flutter toward me, hesitating and pondering if he should or shouldn't ask.
He mutters something under his breath in German and then looks back at me.
"Did you know someone named—"
"Oh. Are new team members getting along?"
A low, deep, familiar manly voice makes my heart jump. A cologne which smells anything but cheap and unsexy. My pulse beats fast.
Mark's expression shifts back to his usual nonchalance. "Mr. Erikson?"
I can feel the body heat of Aaron a few inches behind me.
My throat feels dry, my heart beating too fast against my chest, heat creeping through my skin. Suddenly I am too aware of everything.
My pastel dress, my braid which is slightly messy now, the half-eaten steak in front of me, my nails which I painted red last night, my nude lipstick half gone from eating.
He sits across us, putting his plate of food down — basically a bowl of chicken salad with tons of green veggies.
His long thick fingers hold his chopsticks expertly. There's a golden ring on his left thumb which looks like two wings intertwined.
I part my lips unconsciously while looking at his finger. Last night I felt it when he hugged me, his grip strong and firm. His body against mine felt-
"You seem interested in my ring, Nova," his voice low, mixed with amusement, like he knows what's going on in my mind.
I bite my lower lip unconsciously, my body feels hot and tingly from his voice. But I hide it… at least I try, by looking away and sitting upright.
"It looks unique," I say, sipping from the water bottle. My chest burns from things that have no business coming alive because of a man who annoys me yet leaves me breathless just by existing.
Mark next to me reads the air between us carefully without saying anything.
Aaron's eyes on mine look like a predator gazing on his prey and coming up with traps and plans.
I shouldn't be feeling excited and thrilled… I should be scared and anxious about the dangerous glint in those arctic blue eyes.
"It is unique, a single piece in existence," he says with his usual calm confidence.
And fuck!
Since when does a man's calm confidence turn me on so much?
I am either ovulating or just… something is seriously wrong with me.
I should be running away from this burning desire. But I am running toward it, wishing it to just burn me and make me feel alive.