Page 64 of The Rival's Obsession
I pause. “I’m not.”
She raises a brow. “Then empty your pockets.”
I glare. “Fuck off.”
“I will literally reach in there myself.”
I smirk. “What is it you’re really after, Frankie? The cigarettes or confirmation that the rumors about my generous proportions are true?”
She gives me a long, unimpressed look. “Dante, if I wanted to hear about your dick, I’d kill myself first.”
“You’ve been looking for an excuse to feel me up since your first day.”
She snorts. “Penises are cute on gay men. On anyone else? Disgusting.”
“Iamgay.”
“Exactly. Which is why I let you live.”
I exhale through my nose, trying not to laugh. Frankie might be a pain in my ass, but she’s the only one in this office with the balls to throw it back at me. She’s also the only reason I haven’t torched the entire building yet.
She softens just a hair. “Look. It’s not ideal. But we can fix it. You know the material. The team’s prepped. We’ll run drillstonight and knock it out tomorrow. You’ve done more with less time.”
I shake my head. “The models are nowhere near ready.”
A pale shadow looms to my right.
Some intern—baby-faced and trembling—is hovering with a tablet clutched to his chest like it might shield him from incoming fire. His mouth opens once, then closes. He swallows. Opens it again.
I don’t even look at him when I say, “If you ask me a question, you’re fired.”
Frankie doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you’re not.”
“Yes,” I counter, dragging my gaze toward the poor bastard. “You are. Figure it out.”
The kid turns the color of chalk and disappears faster than he appeared. Smart.
And then Grant walks in.
Of course he fucking does.
He moves like he always does—slow, aware, a little too observant. Like he’s reading the energy in the room and cataloging it for later. His eyes scan the tense stillness, the scuttling team, the obvious explosion in progress. But when he speaks, his voice is infuriatingly neutral.
“What’s going on?”
I stare at him. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
His posture stays relaxed, but there’s a flicker in his throat. A tight swallow. Something brewing behind those eyes that isn’t just confusion or concern. It’s hotter than that. Sharper.
Well, looks like someone’s had their session with Eve already.
Frankie scoops her things into her arms like a woman halfway through an exit plan. I narrow my eyes at her.
“Now is when you decide to walk out?”
She lifts a brow. “I would rather give a Brazilian wax to a silverback gorilla than stay here and listen to you two circle each other like gladiators in tight suits.”
Before I can respond, she’s already at the door.
