Battle of the Sexes

Chapter Eight

Carver

"I'll be ready."

"I hope so." Salvo stands, grabbing his briefcase from the floor. "The Board is interested in hearing both of your plans, and from what we've heard so far, it seems you both have very different visions for the future of Jones + Gallum."

"I bet we do," I say, following him to the door. "But we both know I have the experience and dedication to this company. My ideas don't come from some textbook I learned in California. Mine come from real life, hard data, and years following the trends in this sector specifically."

He nods, stepping out into the hallway. "I know that. That's why I'm interested to see what you put together." With a tight smile, he makes his way down passed Marissa and into the elevator.

She waits until the elevator descends before she looks at me. "You okay, sir?"

"I'm annoyed."

"I can see that. Anything I can do to help?"

Get me some coffee, talk some sense into Salvo and the Board, and get Amity naked and into my office to relieve these blue balls.

"No," I say instead. "I'm going to grab something to drink."

"Would you like me to get it for you?"

Shaking my head, I head by her. "I need a change of scenery, but thanks."

Taking a right towards the break room, the roundabout way to get there, I intentionally walk by Amity's office. She's sitting at her desk, a pair of glasses over her eyes, as she studies a piece of paper in front of her. Like a stalker, I stand in the hallway and look at her through the window.

Her hair is pulled into a tight knot on top of her head, her features stern. A black top hangs loosely off her shoulders and there's no jewelry, nothing sparkling like usual.

Leaving her on Friday night was the hardest thing I've ever done—both for me and my cock. I've picked up my phone to call her a hundred times, but I don't know what to say. I'm sorry for not coming in and fucking your brains out when you basically asked me to? I'm sorry for not taking advantage of you? I don't normally get myself in these positions with women, so I'm not sure how to handle it. I considered asking Marcus, but knew he'd just laugh at me.

Just before I begin to step away, she looks up. Her features remain impassive. She just takes me in like she's trying to decide whether to scowl or just ignore me altogether.

"Can I come in?" I mouth, pointing to the door.

She shakes her head no and goes back to the paper.

Fuck. That.

I step inside her office, shutting the door behind me.

"I said no," she says, resting the paper on her desk.

"Actually, you said yes. You asked me to come in and I didn't because I was afraid you'd regret it in the morning."

"You were right," she glares. "I did."

Looking at the ceiling, I sigh. It's filled with every bit of frustration I've kept bottled up all weekend. "I don't know what to say to you."

"I don't think you have to say anything. I want to thank you for helping get me home the other night. That was nice of you."

"You know I didn't stop here for a thank you."

"Then why did you, Carver? Why do this?" she sighs. "In a few days, this whole rigmarole will be over and one of us will be here and one of us won't."