Chapter 323. An Office Romance IV

Chapter 323: 323. An Office Romance IV

Maisie

Apparently, once you got past the novelty of being stuck in a room filled with the highest powers in Ashbourne--save for the Queen--it swiftly became boring as hell.

Turned out there were no different from students in a classroom, arguing over every littl detail.

I tried not to yawn as Derek prattled on about infrastructural changes, financing, and what nots.

Randall’s nose hadn’t stopped bleeding. Quite often, he tossed a used tissue in the trash, going for another.

His face was red as pumpkins. Every now and then, I felt his glare on the right side of my face. When I turned to meet his stare, he averted his gaze, looking pinker than before.

Now that my anger was most drained, dropping me right back into the state of almost depression as I began thinking of Mercer again, I almost felt bad for the human. He wouldn’t heal. Not for another week. I was sure I’d broken something.

But it did serve him right. The next time he talked about he woman, he would be a lot more respectful.

A foot hooked around my heel, drawing my attention back to the silliness I’d been ignoring for the past ten minutes.

The sole of the shoe began to drag a lazy path up my calf. My breath hitched, my pulse hammering in my ears as the shoe slid higher, nudging the hem of my skirt.

I casted an irritated glance at Soren, but he had an overly serious look on his face, commenting thoughtfully on the hologram Rosalia had set up on the wall, like he wasn’t trying to render me skirt-less.

A soft snort brought my attention to Jericho. He couldn’t see what Soren was up to, but he must’ve guessed it, because he found it funny. When I looked to him for help, he shrugged with a face that said, "He’s your problem, malyshka. Not mine."

Frustrated, I tried to nudge Soren’s foot away, but he was stubborn, dragging the tip so high, it hit the sensitive back of my knee, and I jumped in my seat.

My knee went flying upward and slamming against the underside of the table with a loud bang.

The entire room went silent. Almost two dozen heads snapped in my direction.

Heat flooded my face, burning all the way down to my collarbone. I shrank into my chair, turning an embarrassed look to the rest of the table. "Sorry."

Across, Derek shot me a withering sneer that let me know what he thought of my being here. None of which was positive, of course, and I had no doubt the only reason he wasn’t voicing out his disapproval was because Jericho was seated right next to him.

He carried on like nothing happened, and under the cover of the table, I turned my furious face left. "Will you stop doing that?" I hissed.

Soren wore a flawlessly innocent expression. He didn’t even look at me, his striking eyes running along the open file in his hands as though he were deeply engrossed in them.

"Hmm," he hummed, biting the head of his ballpoint pen thoughtfully. He punctuated the sound by kicking the bottom of my chair just to jolt me and I swallowed my snarky yell. "We could cut it down by fifty percent," he said.

The gazes of the people flicked nervously back and forth between us, sensing the bizarre, crackling undercurrent at our end of the table. Randall, however, sat up straight, his face flushed with anger. "Absolutely not. Your contribution is barely enough as it is."

Soren glanced pleasantly at him, though the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. "I thought you weren’t interested in moving the truce along, Randall. I’m not obliged to fill up your coffers while you step onto my lands to threaten and insult my own."

Randall puffed up, opening his mouth to argue, but the man sitting to his left, the General of the DHSA, Jared, clamped a hand down on his shoulder.

"I’m sure we can work aside our differences, Prince Soren," the older man placated. "We had a long flight. Randall here is just having a long day. How about we talk about this after he’s had some sleep?"

Randall grew pinker at the humiliating dismissal, but he said nothing.

The conversation soon shifted to the safer topic of border repairs.

At which point, Soren dropped all of his pretense.

With a soft squeak of leather, he twisted his rotating chair completely away from the table, angling himself to face me.

The movement was so blatant that everyone in the room noticed, but Soren couldn’t have cared less.

He propped his cheek on his fist and the full force of his attention crashed over me. It felt like being backed into a corner, trapped between the heat of his body and a brick wall.

I nervously met his gaze.

Soren just smiled at me knowingly, blinking slowly under his long and pretty dark lashes as he studied my face.

My heart did a stutter in my chest, and I quickly averted my gaze, staring fiercely at everything but him. This is just too weird. Why wouldn’t he stop staring at me like that?

I hoped if I ignored him for long enough, he would look away.

He didn’t.

I could feel his eyes on my jaw. On my mouth. Lower, where my skirt had ridden up my thigh, then back up, slow enough that my skin prickled under it.

And I stifled a gasp when he captured my foot between his.

My wide eyes flew to his and his smirk grew deeper, his voice dropping into a low, seductive timbre. "Forgive me, Adams, am I making you uncomfortable? Embarrassing you, maybe?"

I tucked my hair behind my ear again. I was getting irritated with the length. It wouldn’t just stay put. "No."

Soren’s grin grew. "Good. Then you wouldn’t mind."

I blinked in confusion as a small squeaky sound echoes in the room.

I realized... Shit. My chair is moving.