An Inconvenient Flame

Chapter 62 {Part B}

Okayyy....

So here is the chapter. And trust me on this guys... it was the most difficult to write.

enjoy.... and please drop comments and votes.

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"That's not what I asked for, Rajeev." 

I peek over the top of my laptop screen.

He's sitting on the couch across from me, laptop balanced on his thighs, jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. His fingers drum once, twice against the armrest... the only outward sign that he's about to explode.

My stomach does this weird flip.

I've seen him irritated before. Mildly annoyed, even. 

But this? This barely-contained fury radiating off him in waves? Not since those first awful weeks of our marriage, when every conversation felt like walking through a minefield.

"Do you understand what happens if we present incomplete data to the delegates?" he continues, his voice dropping even lower. "Do you have any idea..."

Someone on the other end must interrupt because he stops abruptly, eyes narrowing at the screen.

I should look away. Go back to my notes. Pretend I'm not watching him.

But I can't.

There's something about seeing him like this...all sharp edges and controlled power... that makes my mouth go dry. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders when he leans forward. His fingers curling into a fist against his thigh before deliberately relaxing.

He's furious. Properly, deeply furious.

And I'm sitting here with my heart doing acrobatics in my chest like some kind of idiot.

"I don't care if it takes all night," he says, in unusual cold tone.

Oh god.

I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing my eyes back to my laptop screen. The structural bottlenecks setbacks suddenly seem extremely fascinating.

But I can't still ignore the tension radiating from that couch like heat.

The meeting continues. I highlight a random sentence, absorbing exactly none of it.

Because all I can think about is how I've never seen this version of him. Commanding, uncompromising, slightly terrifying version who probably makes grown men nervous in boardrooms. 

And beneath my nervousness, something warm settles in my stomach that I absolutely should not be feeling while he's tearing someone apart over some quant projections.

I press my thighs together and stare very, very hard at my screen.

Tonight, we're supposed to...

I don't let myself finish that thought.

But my eyes betray me, flicking back to him just as he drags a hand through his hair, exhaling hard through his nose.

His gaze suddenly shifts. Catching mine.

I freeze, highlighter still pressed against the page.

For one impossible second, we just look at each other. His eyes are dark, still burning with residual anger, but something else flickers there too. 

Then someone says something else stupid through the speaker, and the moment shatters.

"No," he says flatly, attention snapping back to his screen. "Absolutely not."