Wicked Obsession

2.

Monday, June 10th

"Where the fuck are my notes from the last meeting?" Mr. Styles roars from his office.

I glance at the clock with a sigh. 8:15. Wow he just starts this shit earlier and earlier everyday. The door connecting our offices, slams open. I don't pay any attention to him as his eyes bore holes into the side of my head.

"Miss. Whitman?"

His voice is dripping with malice, making my name sound like an insult. It's amazing how he can turn any word, sentence, or phrase into something cruel and demeaning.

Lazily I glance over to him, giving him a confused stare.

"I'm sorry Mr. Styles, what where you asking me for?"

I can see the fire burning behind his emerald eyes and it makes me want to shrink into my chair but I don't give him that satisfaction. Instead, I stare right back at him with a perfect pokerface.

"You fucking heard me." He snaps.

Shrugging I apologize, "Sorry, I'm afraid I didn't."

"I will not repeat myself." His voice is deadly quiet.

"Then I guess I can't help you." I reply, turning away from him and resuming my work.

Suddenly my chair is jerked backward and turned around. Mr. Styles places his hands on the arm rests of the chair, trapping me. I can smell his cologne mixed with an earthy scent, it's intoxicating.

Damn it, Aura no it isn't.

His face is so close that as he speaks, I feel his breath across my face.

"I know what kind of game you are trying to play Miss. Whitman and I am not amused. Those damn notes better be on my desk in five minutes."

With that he pulls himself upright and straightens his suit jacket before taking three long strides towards the door. Right before he closes the door I shout, "Or else what?"

His tall figure stops and slowly turns around to face me once more. The temperature in the room seems to drop and from where I am sitting, his eyes appear almost black. Fuck, I've really made him mad this time. A chilling smile creeps across his lips as he darkly chuckles, "Oh, Miss. Whitman. You really don't want to find out. "

His threat sends a shiver down my spine as he turns and slams the door behind him.

Taking a deep breath, I take a minute to steady myself. Then I gather the notes he requested and calmly walk into his office. His jade eyes raise from his computer as I set them down quietly and make my way back to the door. I can feel his eyes on me and right before I close the door, I meet his steady glare.

"Game on, Mr. Styles."

Taking a seat at my desk I resume my work for the day. Every day is like this between us. Unorthodox right? Putting my head in my hands I let out a heavy sigh. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

It's only been a week since I started here and everyday Mr. Styles has managed to make every minute a nightmare. By the end of the day I am mentally and physically exhausted, not that I'll ever let him know that.

Really the only thing keeping me from quitting is the damn contract.

"Miss. Whitman, what a pleasure to see you again." His deep British accent is unmistakable.

No. Fucking. Way.

It's him. The man from the restaurant that I poured wine on. What are the odds?