Page 30 of The Stipulation
There is a dangerous glint in his green eyes, as if he sees right through me. “Consider me impressed.”
A strange warmth spreads through me, and my cheeks feel like they are on fire from embarrassment. This interaction might be short and fleeting as all our contact is, but it is undeniably charged and feels different from our usual cold exchanges. There’s a new teasing, almost playful edge to the tilt of his head and the faint lift of his brow. I find myself caught up in it, wondering why a single statement from him could affect me in this way. It is completely absurd.
I gather my courage and decide to play him at his own game. “And you? How’s your search going?”
He smirks. “I have a couple of candidates I’m working on.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms, and offering a sly grin. “You’d better narrow it down quickly. The clock’s ticking.”
He chuckles softly, a sound low and controlled, but undeniably amused. “Keep me informed on your progress, and I will do the same.”
He laughs. I made him laugh. I’m too shocked to answer, so I just nod.
He turns and walks away, each step filled with the powerful grace of a panther, leaving a trace of his scent behind. I can’t name the feeling that comes over me as I watch him walk away, but it settles in my chest like a cloud of warmth.
I stand there, staring into empty space for a few moments after he’s gone. For the first time, I realize that we’ve had a conversation that didn’t feel clipped, cold, or hostile. No rudeness, no cold commands directed at me. It was human. Almost civil. I shake my head, exhaling slowly. Don’t read too much into it, I tell myself.
It could be that Axel has decided to actually give me a chance before deciding he doesn’t like me. It could be that he didn’t bother making the effort before because he was sure I would be a temporary fixture, and although that’s still true, a year can be a very long time if you don’t make friends with people who you live with. Maybe it’s none of those things.
Whatever it is, I just need to be cautious and remember that one civil moment doesn’t make Axel nice. One respectful conversation doesn’t erase all the other times he’s been brusque and impossibly arrogant. He’s not someone approachable, and I’ll be wise to remember it.
And yet my mind betrays me. It remembers the strong line of his jaw, the strength of those broad shoulders, the casualconfidence in the way his hand shot out to catch me. I imagine what it would feel like to be close to him, to understand the man beneath the steely green gaze and controlled exterior.
And then, I scold myself for it.
Have you completely lost your mind?
He’s exasperating, and he’s openly hostile. He’s shown me who he is, and he’s not someone to get caught up in.I can’t let him turn my world upside down with one or two polite sentences. I shake my head.
Focus, Jo. Focus.
Right. I need to jump into the shower, then order a pizza for dinner. I was told I can put in a request with the chef, but he’s usually gone for the night by the time I finish work, and I don’t like to impose by forcing him to wait around for me.
As I shampoo my hair, I tell myself firmly that a little courteous exchange doesn’t change anything. Axel is still Axel, and if I don’t keep to my side of the bargain, he will be furious with me. But somewhere beneath the layers of rational talk, there is a spark, and I feel it flicker, quietly, inexorably, beneath my control. And I know, deep down, that no amount of reasoning will stop me from noticing him.
No matter how much I tell myself not to let him into my thoughts, Axel will always be there, somewhere on the edges of my mind, a presence impossible to ignore, a challenge I never asked for.
And a temptation I don’t think I am ready for.
Chapter
Fifteen
AXEL
Isit back in the leather chair, glass of neat whiskey warming in my palm, and watch the woman across from me. Crystal. That’s her name. It fits her. She’s all gloss and light reflection, sparkly in the soft lights of the restaurant. She has perfectly highlighted cheekbones, honey-blonde waves cascading over one bare, tanned shoulder, and injected lips that seem to be a permanent pout. Her dress clings in all the strategic places and tastefully shows off her ample cleavage. She smells good too. Musk and something floral I can’t quite place.
She is objectively beautiful. Any straight male would find her attractive. That is, until she starts talking. And then she becomes entirely exhausting. We’ve only been here for about half an hour, and I’m already ready to leave.
“So, I told her,” Crystal says, leaning forward slightly, her manicured fingers wrapping around the stem of her wine glass. “If you’re going to launch a skin care line, at least make surethe packaging photographs well. I mean, that’s the whole point, right? If it doesn’t look good on Instagram, does it even exist?”
I nod once. A precise, measured dip of the chin. A gesture that says I am listening but doesn’t exactly encourage the line of conversation to continue.
“Mmm,” I add for good measure.
For Crystal, though, it is encouragement enough. Her eyes brighten, mistaking the sound for actual engagement and the nod of my head for actual agreement.
“Exactly. I knew you would get it,” she gushes and laughs lightly, like we’ve shared a clever insight together. “The formula might be revolutionary, but if the bottle is ugly… no one is ever going to try it. I mean, branding is everything, right?”
