Page 105 of Company Ink

Blake, swallows, his eyes latching onto mine. "You didn't sleep with Adrian?"

"Seriously? You're joking, right?" I flap my arms. "I'm not discussing this with you. Not here. Not in the office."

"Oh, she's suddenly a professional," he jeers. "Wow, who would've thought you had it in you."

"You're being so petty right now, Blake." I'm so done with this. With him. "Just give me Stella so I can leave."

"No, I won't."

My eyes widen with disbelief. "Why not?" I can't believe we're having this conversation right now.

"No reason," he hums. "Maybe I like plants."

I roll my eyes. "Since when?"

Blake shrugs. "A few months ago."

"Really?"This is absurd.

"Mhmm." Blake nods his head. "I find the process of photosynthesis to be fascinating."

I blink, getting really tired of this game. "Fine. Keep her."

Blake's eyebrows knit together. "Really?"

I shake my head. What does he want from me? "Yes, whatever, I don't care anymore. I have to go, Adrian's waiting—"Shit.

"Oh, Adrian's waiting for you?" Blake's expression tightens. "Of course."

"Do you have something you want to say, Blake? Say it now."

He studies me for a minute. I can see it. The words. On the tip of his tongue. But nothing. Not a sound. Barely a breath. Just silence. Shitty, awkward, messy silence.

"Well?" I probe, crossing my arms.

"Bye, Cassie," he finally says, turning on his heel and walking past me.

I grunt, marching back to the elevators. What the hell was that? He's keeping Stella? Just to spite me? Unbelievable.

"Where's the plant?" Adrian asks as I approach him.

"Uh…I threw her out," I lie. "She was dying." Blake better not fucking kill her. She's so young.

Adrian frowns. "Well, that's okay, you can always buy a new one, right?"

"I think I'm over plants," I mutter. "Too much work."

Adrian laughs. "Maybe we can get you a nice rock. I hear those things are very low maintenance."

I grin in spite of myself. "Mmm...funny."

Adrian tosses me a wink. "I try."

We walk to La Pâtisserie Parfait, the quaint little French bistro on the block. I've never been in here before, something about seven-dollar croissants just throws me off. The interior is laced with gold detailing and baby pink hues, flowery curtains and Rococo inspired seating. It's cute. Very bougie.

"Why don't you take a seat and I'll grab us a few things, okay?" Adrian asks, taking off his jacket. "I'll make sure to ask for the baker's favorite."

I chuckle. "You remembered."