Page 127 of Hate to Love You
His question makes me pause. On one hand, I know that if Cal handles this, there’s no doubt in my mind that things will go down without a hitch. However, I’ve been toying with another idea.
“Actually, Cal,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I might want to go in a different direction with that. But let me get back to you. Just make sure our warehouse is ready to accept it, and—”
“What the fuck?!”
Abby’s voice suddenly echoes through my office.
“What is…oh my God! Are all of these…Holy fuck!”
“...Just keep an eye on the shipment and standby for updates,” I say with a grin. “I’ll connect with you later.”
“Roger that, Boss.”
I’m setting my phone down on my desk just as Abby comes storming into my office.
“Did you do this?” She demands, her face red.
“Good morning, Abigail,” I say with a smirk, casually taking a sip of my coffee. “I trust you had a pleasant evening?”
“Did. You. Do. This?” She says, accentuating each word.
“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.”
“Did you bolt all of my things to my desk, Roman?!” She practically shouts. “My computer, my phone, my tape dispenser and my stapler are all fastened directly to the fucking desk!”
“No, actually,” I say, shaking my head. “I didn’t.”
“What?” She asks, now thoroughly confused. “But…they are all…I mean, my stuff is all—”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, unable to stop the wicked smile that spreads across my face. “But then again, when you make as much money as I do, you don’t have to get your hands dirty just to complete a little welding job.”
Her jaw drops, and for a good three seconds she struggles with what to say.
“But…how? I mean, no, why?” She finally stammers. “Why on earth would you actually go through the trouble of attaching all of my stuff to my damn desk?”
“Because,” I say, leaning back in my chair and putting my hands behind my head. “It seems as though your supplies were having such a hard time actually staying on your desk, and not on the floor, that I decided to help things be a bit more stationary for you. More…grounded.”
She stares at me, scoffing loudly before looking back at her desk.
“And plus, I didn’t want you to hurt your back,” I wink at her. “Especially since you seemed to be bending over. A lot.”
“Oh my God,” she whispers, narrowing her eyes at me. “That’s why you did it. You did it because you’re pissed about me wearing miniskirts, aren’t you?”
I grin, staring back at her growing frustration, and feeling nothing but selfish satisfaction.
“Well, I did tell you about a dozen times that your skirts are too fucking short,” I growl. “And I can’t have my men up here, staring at your damn cunt all day, so I had to come up with a solution.”
“You fucking bastard,” Abby laughs sarcastically, shaking her head in disbelief. “You petty, fucking bastard.”
“At your service, Miss Wayne,” I smirk.
“You do not get to choose what I wear every day!”
“Actually, yes, I do,” I smile at her. “And it seems that your entire wardrobe is in direct violation of our dress code. So, either I had to fire you, or I had to improvise.”
She purses her lips but says nothing.
“Now, as much as I would like to continue this riveting conversation, I do have work to do. I just spoke to Cal this morning and he confirmed the Walston Street deal is on. So, I need you to work with him and reach out to the people from Stein & Co. to get the specifics of the presentation they will need for the meeting on—”