I pretend to consider what he said. “That’s kind of long-winded. How about just a thank you?”
He smiles, his eyes twinkling in the dark. “Happy belated birthday, Clarissa. I hope you have a wonderful year.”
I hug the box to my chest and wander, in a daze, to my office. Inside, I sit staring at the opened box for a minute. There must be a hundred in here. If I ate two a day, that would last me almost two months.
I grab one and rip it open.
The little line etchings, filling in the details of a koala in the chocolate, make me laugh. And I break off the head of my chocolate koala and pop it into my mouth.
It’s just like I remember.
I never knew a supermarket treat could bring me so much joy. I practically hoover down the other half and sit back, feeling the sugar rush around my body. The chocolate hasn’t even fully melted before I rip open another one and cram it into my mouth.
Divine.
Other than the tea and croissant that I had at Matthias’s office, I haven’t had much else to eat today.
I need to do better with that.
A shout comes from the main room and I reluctantly hide the box of Caramello Koalas in one of the locked drawers. I almost laugh at the security overkill, but I’d rather not have to fire anyone for stealing my treats.
Matthias is standing there with his hand up, like he’s about to knock on the door when I emerge.
“Wow. That… happens a lot,” he mutters to himself. “I just came to see if you are okay. You’d been gone for a while. I wanted to check that you hadn’t fainted in a sugar coma. “Close!” I laugh. “I only ate one.” He cocks his eyebrow.
“Fine, two. But don’t tell anyone.” I let out a sigh, remembering the first bite, and only stop sighing when he laughs.
“Shut up. I like them, okay?” I poke my tongue out at him, the chocolate making me playful.
“Hey, trust me, it was my hand and I remember.” He rubs the back of his hand, wincing dramatically.
“Where did you even get them? I can never find them anywhere.”
He grins guiltily. “There’s an Aussie snacks website based in DC. I… may have sent someone on the company plane to get them. You looked like you needed a treat. So, I looked, and you’re right”-he lets out a chuckle-“you cannot get them anywhere in the tri-state area.” “But… why?” Caramello Koalas make me monosyllabic, apparently.
His lips stretch into a wide smile. “I wanted to. If I could find something that I knew you’d eat every day, then it was worth the trip. Hey, I had a bowl of pho at my favorite Vietnamese restaurant while I was there.” His face freezes, just for a second, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.
Realization dawns. “Wait. You had… You went?”
Sheepishness edges his face and he tucks his hands into his pockets, like a teenager trying to ask his crush to the prom. When he looks up at me again, though, he’s Matthias Baxter, 36-year-old, ninthrichest man in New York City, Director of a Fortune 100 company. Someone who knows exactly what he wants. And it’s me.
“I like seeing you smile, Rissie,” he murmurs. Then he leans forward, pressing the tip of his tongue against the corner of my mouth.
My heart stills.
It’s only there for a second, but my mind swirls in a tornado of Baxter blue.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, smoky. “You just had a little bit of chocolate there, Rissie.”
“We can’t do this?” I squeak out. “The kiss, this whatever you just did, it can’t happen again.”
“Why not?” he replied with no hesitation. No doubt. Is this what it’s like to be wooed be Matthias? To be swept away by his attention, thoughtfulness, and overpowering… himness. No wonder there’s a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes and headlines about his escapades splashed on every paper.
“You have no idea what you’re saying.”
Heat colors his cheeks. “Sure I do, I said, ‘why not?’ Why can’t we kiss? Didn’t you want me to?” He’s closer now. He smells like cognac and ambergris, and I want to drown in it.
I can’t want this, can’t want him. It doesn’t make sense. But my body, cleaving to him, doesn’t give a fuck about sense. Every cell in my body is vibrating to his frequency.
“Because we agreed.” It’s the lamest, weakest argument for anything anyone has ever made.
He cocks his eyebrow. “Did we?”
He’s not even touching me, just his closeness is making my breath shallow, useless.
“We did, Matthias. Just this morning, it was one of our guidelines that we wouldn’t let this confuse anything. Purely business.”
He shrugs, and lowers his forehead until our hair touches, but not our skin. “That sounds boring. I abhor boring, Clarissa.”
I agree. But I can’t tell him that. “Well, I could use a little boring. You’re drunk. Go back to our table and I’ll talk to you later.”
His lip curls and my insides do a backflip. When did his arrogant, smug grin become something that would endear him to me? “I’ve only had one sip, darling. To get the courage to come here and talk to you.”
This time I audibly guffaw.
If there was ever a man who never had ever experienced a second of insecurity when it comes to women, it’s the man standing in front of me. All sleek blond hair, chiseled cheekbones, eyes like blue gemstones. And a smirk that makes you want to kiss him and slap him both at once.
“Shut up. Don’t tease me about the kiss, it’s not funny,” I hiss, embarrassed by his effect on me. “I have to go back to work.”
“In a minute.” He takes a step forward and pins me against the door frame and his chest. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on between us. I’m more confused than anyone, trust me. But I’m not a coward. Kissing you, it did something to me, it broke something, or fixed something, I don’t know.