Crumbling Cakes

Part VI

My small purse had barely hit the locker floor before I heard an angry hiss behind me.

"My office, NOW." The King was already by his door by the time I turned my head. The joy of having to deal with grumpy gills first thing through the door. So much for distance; I grumbled on my way to the end of the hall.

Turns out grumpy gills was far from done with his commanding ways since Sebastian was literally waiting by the entrance. As soon as I cleared the frame, he closed it. Sealing me in. With him. Shitballs.

He waited only for me to turn around and face him before shit hath hitith the fanith. Or Vesuvius decided to blow, whichever analogy you prefer.

"What the fuck, Dalia?" He all but shouted. Okay, not the greatest of starts. Maybe he began big and then tapered off? Ha! There's a laugh. He cocked his head as if to say, Well?

"You'll have to pardon me, I'm not sure what this is." My index twirled in our general vicinity. If he was going to berate me, I was going to make him work for it. See? This is what I meant. I was usually a pleasant person but this bastard was turning me into a raging psycho. Dear god, I was turning into my mother...

Sebastian pressed his lips tight together. You could see him working at controlling himself to keep from yelling at earsplitting levels. "Not sure..." He seemed almost baffled and that normally would have made me laugh.

"You have nothing to say, nothing at all?" He asked.

"No, not really no." The more you were redundant in your answers, the more annoyed Sebastian would get and my petty ass was taking full advantage of that. Why? I had no idea. He never actually did anything which only made me question myself as a person. I was beginning to annoy myself with my bitchiness.

"Do you have any idea...you just took...didn't even know if you...." Not a single sentence was completed by Sebastian the Tomato Wonder. It actually concerned me a little, he was not one to hold back and here he was floundering for the right words. Or was it thought?

I reached out to lay a hand on his upper arm. Gently mind you, wouldn't want to startle the poor thing. "Um, are you okay?" His eyes widened. Alright, that may have not been the right thing to say.

"Am I okay?' He asked incredulously. "How about are you okay."

"I'm fine?" I was confused. It's like he was talking in riddles and only he had the keyword to solve it. I mean yes, my bruise was still a nasty blue and my hip hurt worse from lugging the water but other than that I had nothing to complain about. Maybe that was a lie, I should reword my statement. I had no right to complain. 

 Ah, close enough.

"Fine." He clenched his teeth. "We're going to go back to fine." This was not a question, it was also a sore subject it seemed. As my response fully marinated in that pretty head of his, he straightened out, turning into the stoic brick wall that usually scared me a wee bit.

Shit on a stick.

"Dalia, you could have given me some form of notice that you were, in fact, still alive." Neutral. Neutral tone was what I was getting. Neutral tone and stoic face, gulp.

"Why would I do that?" I asked dumbly. It should be noted that my normal A game disintegrated around this guy. The last two days in his company has probably been the most we've ever said to each other since I got hired and my usual wit eluded me. He was like a viper you had to try and outsmart. In other words, you were fucked no matter what you did.

"Maybe because it would be good to know that there wasn't any permanent damage after you crashed into half of my kitchen? That you made it back to your place safe after running off? I don't know you tell me." He searched my face. "Did you get your ribs checked out?'

"There was no need, I told you I was fine." Were we seriously rehashing this?

Sebastian gritted his teeth and pointed at me. "There's that fucking word again."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that big of a deal." He made an aggravated noise at the back of his throat which tugged my attention back to him. He was staring at the ceiling, I could almost see him counting to ten. It was as my eyes grazed down that I noticed he was wearing only his Henley, no Chef Jacket. It was still long-sleeved, but that wasn't the surprising part.

No, the part that made me choke on my tongue was that it was form-fitted. It. Clung. To. Every-thing.  It fit him in a way that undershirt had certainly not and I was feeling the effects around my collar.

Seeing the outline of his shoulders alone was doing something to my libido. But what I was stuck on was the two buttons that were not closed as they should be. I wanted to touch it. Dip my finger in there and feel what I suspected to be warm soft skin.

It hung open when he was resting his hands on his hips like that and now I had visual confirmation that yes, that chest was as firm as I'd imagined. There was a helpless, perverted noise that was working it's way out when I swallowed that bitch down.

Show no weakness, Romanov! I don't even know what that exactly meant but the sound that was about to come out of my mouth would have ruined my plan to show him indifference. Or to stay away from him. All I knew is that I didn't need him to know that I had just eye-molested him in the chesticles. I refocused on the conversation at hand to stop staring. Let's look at the points.

He's upset about the lack of notification. Fine was a very hated word in his vocabulary. He wasn't making any sense with this overbearing Mother McLoughlin behavior. And he didn't appreciate me stalking off? Right, I got this.

"Did you see a doctor?" Orrrrrr not.

"No, I didn't. I thought I already answered that?" Now I was getting aggravated, what was his deal? I went off on my own per the usual; not ran over his puppy.

"Then how do you know you're okay? I can't have my employees getting injured on the job and not making sure that they're in functioning condition." He made me sound like an appliance...

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Christ on a cracker is that what this was about? "What, are you afraid I'm going to sue or something?" I finally replied, dropping my hand. "Is that it? Because if you recall I'm the one who smashed a very expensive cake. I'm not exactly in any position to be taking you to court. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not what this is about!"

"Then what is it about?" Frustration seeped into every word.

"It's about your blatant disregard to your health and lack of need to notify me--"

"Notify you! Ex-cuse me?" I stared him down. "Last I checked I didn't have to notify you of shit unless I was calling in sick, Dad." He opened his mouth to speak and I shushed him with my raised finger. "As you can see I'm perfectly capable of working which is all you need to know. 100 percent 'functional'. I'm here, I'll pay off the debt, I'm not flaking out. I think that brings this little meeting to a close."

I forced myself not to stomp toward the door—that would have ruined the effect. But I was just so angry. This fuck nugget thinks I had to check in with him now? Why, because I bumped a few counters and walk around on my own late at night?

Before I left, my temper betrayed me once more without restraint. "You want notification? Consider this my notice with a pending date of when the last penny on that $15,000 hits your account." I swung open the door. The clenched jaw, furious look on his face the last thing I saw. It wasn't until I'd rounded the corner and made my way to refill the front house display counters that I realized what I had said in my anger.

Pardon my french, but what the fuck did I just do?