Page 3 of The Office Games
“I’d be a lot better if my sworn enemy wasn’t sitting in my favorite chair.”
“In addition to damaging my tires and messing with my coffee, your assistant also stuck super glue inside my office lock.” He stands up, keeping his eyes on mine. “Aren’t you going to ask her about that?”
I say nothing as he nears me, and I resist inhaling his sexy cologne.
“I thought you were bigger than this, Miss Stone.” He tries to sound like the bigger person. “With so much on the line, I could’ve sworn we agreed not to play games with each other anymore.”
“Was that before or after you locked me out of this building for an entire weekend?”
“After.” He pulls a pink “Good luck” card from his jacket and holds it out for me. “For the record, I wish you all the luck in the world.”
“That’s the last thing I want from you.”
“What’s the first?”
“Your death.”
He lets out a low laugh, and I hate my body for warming all over as if this man isn’t the reason I fly into a rage multiple times a week.
“Um…” Eliza clears her throat. “Do you still want me to fuck up Mr. Calloway’s dry cleaning? Since he’s already here, I don’t think it’s worth it.”
“You can go ahead and do that, Miss Eliza.” James narrows his eyes at me. “I haven’t evenbegunto get my staff started on Miss Stone this week.”
“Okay, enough you two!” David Waldman, the CFO, steps into the room. “How old are you?”
“He thinks he’s seventeen,” “She still believes she’s a teenager,” we answer in unison.
“So, you’re both children.” He groans. “As talented as you two are, you need to grow the hell up. Starting today.”
“Yes, sir,” we say, again in unison.
“Walk away from each other.”
We don’t move.
“Now.”
We remain still.
“Focus on your afternoon meeting with Mr. Adeleman.” Mr. Waldman grabs James by the hand and pulls him away. “May God help the rest of us…”
Later that afternoon,I slide my files into my folder and take a deep breath before heading to the elevator.
This promotion is mine. All mine…
The doors glide open, revealing James standing alone.
I consider letting him go up by himself, but letting him get there first may not be a good impression.
Stepping inside, I move across from him.
As the car rises, we stare at our reflections in the mirrored glass.
“Off the record,” he says, “you look beautiful today, Taryn.”
I ignore him.
“I like it when you wear your hair up like that.”