Page 21 of Obey

Traitor.

Jace rises as well, his chuckling finally under control. “Adrian can move up the entire catalog. Doesn’t matter if you die of malnutrition before ours launches.”

“He has a point,” Elias says. “So just do what she says.”

Wonderful. Two traitors.

Sloane's expression shifts, surprised that they actually agreed with her before giving way to a smug little smile.

"Good. Now eat your lunch and fix your attitude before you speak to me again."

On their way out, she presses two fingers against the glass beside the door. The walls turn opaque, shutting out the rest of the executive floor.

She's just put me in time-out. In my own goddamn office.

I press my fingers against the glass, restoring its transparency. I'll be damned if I'm letting her dictate when I can see out of my own office.

For hours, I tell myself I'm still in charge.

It doesn't take.

She moves through the office like she owns the building, and every time our eyes meet, there’s a bright defiance that makes my hand twitch to correct it.

By five o’clock I’ve had enough, and I catch her before she can disappear.

She comes in without being told twice, at least. But she shuts the door herself, crosses her arms, and looks at me like I’ve called her away from something more important.

“Good evening to you too, Mr. Blackwell. What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until morning?”

Those amber irises find mine like I’m the one being evaluated. I plant my hands on the desk. “The product launch needs a complete overview, and I don’t believe I have dismissed you for the day, so you’ll stay until I say you’re done.”

She tilts her head. "Have you eaten anything since lunch?" she asks, completely ignoring my order. "Because you're getting grouchy again, and I'm not having this conversation while you're being irrational."

“I don’t recall hiring a nutritionist, Ms. Harper.”

She disappears without another word and returns with a protein bar, which she sets on my desk. “Clearly.”

I don’t touch it. “You think you’re funny?”

“Oh, I’m hilarious,” she says, without missing a beat. “But your attitude gets worse when you don’t eat, so if you want a productive conversation, you’ll eat the damn bar.”

It turns into a stare-down, and she’s the one who glances away first, but only to nod at the protein bar. “That vein in your forehead is about to explode.”

Finally giving in with a growl, I tear it open and bite through half of it in one go. Her smile turns smug. “See? Now maybe you’ll survive long enough to hear about the office pool.”

I stop chewing. “The what?”

“Three months. That’s the consensus on when you’ll finally break me. Something about the hard-ass CEO devouring his assistants?”

I set the wrapper down slowly. “Devouring implies I’m heedless, and I’ve never been fond of rushing.”

Her confident expression falters, clearly caught off-guard. I rise, circling my desk with measured steps until nothing separates us. Jasmine and vanilla envelop me, clouding my senses.

"I prefer to savor what I consume, Ms. Harper," I say, voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Slowly. Thoroughly. Until there's nothing left."

"C-careful with those metaphors, Mr. Blackwell. They could be... misinterpreted."

"Bold of you to assume it's metaphorical." My gaze drops briefly to the way her breath shortens beneath the silk of her blouse before returning to her face.