Page 48 of Wicked Dares
The noise of the office disappears the deeper we walk in, replaced by the soft trickle of water from somewhere nearby and the rustle of leaves overhead.
It’s nice to see Levi. Even nicer that he stood up for me. But I don’t know what he wants to talk about.
The air shifts to cooler here, carrying the faint citrus scent of lemon trees and roses. Sunlight filters through the glass above, catching on the leaves and casting soft gold shadows across Levi’s shoulders as he strides ahead.
He stops by the lemon grove, and I notice the uneasy look on his face.
It’s strange seeing him like that. He’s always so sure of himself, at least from what I’ve seen.
“Thanks for sticking up for me like that,” I say. “She was being really awful.”
“No worries,” he replies, lifting his brows. “You know you can do better than this job, right?”
It means a lot to hear him say something like that.
I grin sheepishly. “I know, but… I guess everything in life that you want takes time. And I kind of need this job right now. Hopefully, better will come along.”
“I’m sure it will.” He gives me a faint smile. “Especially with an MBA. You never mentioned that.” He looks impressed.
“You didn’t ask.” I borrow his words from the other night.
He smirks. “No, I didn’t. An MBA means you’re more qualified than Helen,” he points out. “And I’m guessing she’s not happy about that.”
I nod slowly. “In a nutshell.”
“With qualifications like yours…” He trails off. “There’s little point in me offering you any of the marketing positions we have available here.”
“Maybe you might consider me for something in the future,” I suggest, sounding hopeful.
He shakes his head, and my hopes die.
“A person who wants to start their own business would be wasted here.”
No one’s spoken to me like that in a long time. Hearing him say that makes me believe my future is still something real and reachable instead of a dream I’m clinging to out of desperation.
“I’m already wasted here.” An ounce of the old me slips through.
“I completely agree with you.” He studies me for a moment, his gaze sharpening, then something shifts in his expression. “I may have a better offer.”
I narrow my eyes. “An offer? You have an offer for me?” I point to myself.
“Yes. It’s an offer of sorts.”
“Like a job?” I search his face.
“You could call it that.”
“What is it?”
“Remember the man from last night who thought you were my girlfriend?”
“Arthur?” I supply. “Yeah, of course, I remember him.”
The uneasiness in his expression deepens at the mention of Arthur’s name. “Arthur is a really big client of mine. Well, a prospective client. I have a lot riding on him signing a new contract with me.”
I stay quiet, listening.
“He’s a family man, as you probably gathered. He believes he’d be more assured signing his empire over to a man in a long-term relationship.”
