Chapter 19 Chapter 19
ALINA'S POV
"Are you a thief, Roman?"
His chest rose sharply. Green eyes lit up in fury.
A dark, dangerous scoff punched out of him as he took one step forward, completely invading every inch of space I had left.
“Say that again,” he said, voice low, gravel scraping at the edges. "I dare you to say it,"
“I said,” I breathed, steady, chin lifted stubbornly. “You steal my ideas. That makes you a thief. Are you a thief, Roman?"
His tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek — anger and something hotter flickering behind his eyes. His jaw flexed so hard it could crack marble.
“You’re out of your damn mind if you think I need to steal anything from you.”
“Really?” I shot back, “Because you repeated my words in the meeting, changed two adjectives, and suddenly it became your idea.”
“That was me correcting you.”
“No,” I countered, equally firm, “that was you panicking because you didn’t expect me to handle my job so well. That’s the one thing your ego doesn’t know how to process, Roman.”
He stepped closer.
I didn’t move.
Our breaths mixing now. Glaring.
“You really think you can talk to me like this?” he gritted, breath hitting my skin, hot, irritated, too close. “In my building? In my office?”
“Your office? Hello, you're in mine. You barged in here without knocking." I retorted, “You should get out of my face so you can see clearly. Know where you are.”
His eyes darkened. Something relating to a growl leaving his lips, “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Alina.”
“And you’ve got a problem with the truth,” I bit out, defiant. Feeling fly right now. Anything to continue to plaster this angry expression on this bastard's face!
God, this feels good.
As though sensing my internal joy, he shifted. Scoffed, sharply through his nose. Almost like a laugh— the dangerous kind. His expression caught somewhere between disbelief and something feral. Gaze dragging over my face, tongue briefly across his teeth before speaking.
“You really don’t know when to stop talking, do you?”
I stayed mute, studying his features for a bit.
“You don’t know when someone’s doing your business a favour either. So..." I shrugged, chin lifted as I matched his looks. And there, we stood there like that. Silent, both daring the other to blink first. A silent power struggle if you may.
At the end, Roman moved back half an inch.
Only half. Still glaring.
“Next meeting,” he said, voice gravelly, “you better watch your tone.”
I scoffed, lips curved in distaste. “You had better watch your assumptions too. No one's stealing my ideas a second time I tell you."
"For the last time, I did not steal—
He paused right there, swallowing the rest of those words back down. His teeth gritting, fists clenched as they curled back at his side from pointing at my face.
Then he stepped back. Properly this time, still mad but lips sealed. Eyes promising a truck load of problems though.
“This isn’t over.” he warned, turning sharply to the door. "It isn't over, you hear me?"
I watched him reach the door, his broad back stiff in his black packet shirt.
“It isn't over either," I called out, "It never is with you.”
And then he disappeared outside my door. My shoulders relaxing, but just before I heard it;
"Looks like you've found a worthy enemy, boss."
"Worthy? She's not a worthy anything." He spat in response, anger and disgust lacing every word. I couldn't be more livid.
The nerves he had to say I wasn't worthy of anything right outside my door. He wasn't worthy to be called my own enemy either! He wasn't worthy of anything.
He was nothing but a bastard. A stupid, arrogant, ill mannered, cold, heartless bastard, and I'll be damned if I let him walk all over me.
Again.
"You want to fight? Let's fight."
True to our exchange, the next couple of days was filled with repercussions of my actions. His royal bastard showing himself even more than he did before.
But me? Oh I did what I did best;
Work.
I channeled all my anger, frustrations and every cuss word meant for that bastard, into crafting every single mother fucking moodboard there was on planet earth!
All for the Seraph wing though. Relating to it.
I returned back to Oxygen at night, ensured I got more than enough feel of it, then went back to work on my moodboards. Even though I ended up all hot and bothered at the end of this process. Nasty ass dreams following. Each one driving me more to the edge, my back arched and silently crying for release every single time. All with him too!
That was the insane part.
Honestly, I gave up trying to pretend after the second night. Hence, touching myself BEFORE going to bed. That way my chances of dreaming like some sex starved idiot that I was reduced drastically.
It worked though.
Or at least I like to think it did.
But I got the job done, so moving on!
I crafted my concept. In several forms too, giving Roman no chance to send me out without a meaningful response. He had no choice but to make a pick.
It worked. He did make a pick.
Finally.
But that approval came with more last minute requests, and insane deadlines.
"He's only doing this to ruffle me. Only to ruffle me." I reminded myself at some point. Glaring at the fresh set of folders on my desk, all containing information on equipment and tools to be fixed in the wing. Pleasure tools I mean.
Sex chaise, bondage daybed with adjustable leg bars, wall-mounted fuck handle bars, suction blow machine... the likes. Point is, those folders could've come to me earlier in the day. Earlier when I'd not already packed my bags to leave. But he no. He decided to send them over minutes to my closing time, requesting updates. Intentionally trying to make things difficult, make me work late and sleep late.
The man was worse than Joe I tell you. At least at Boldlines I got to know my extra duties on time.
This entire process was hella exhausting I won't lie to you. Putting up with him, with everything. Going back and forth, working extra miles like I was some machine. Anything to keep up with his daily changes, and still not complain or give him the opportunity to say I couldn't do my job properly.
It was exhausting but I was determined.
I was one determined Alina Monroe. The one woman he's not going to break twice with his disgusting personality!
But would I break down at some point if I didn't slow down? Yes.
Would more workload not pile up for me then when I break down? They will.
But until then, there was no way in this crystal clear universe would I let Roman win!
No way.
We were in a fight. A silent struggle. Maybe others would've noticed by now, given how he so openly calls me out everytime. You don't expect me to stay quiet and obedient in the face of such disrespect, do you?
Especially since knowing he was doing it intentionally?
Of course not.
I made sure to dish out responses to him right back, no time wasted! Leaving him stunned most of the time. Sometimes I caught him smirking evilly.
Honestly, it was starting to feel like he enjoyed this in a way. A weird twisted way, cause how could a person derive pleasure from stressing someone else so much?
He was stressing me out and behaving totally insane. Completely and absolutely nothing like the Roman I once knew. Not like his previous self was good. But at least he wasn't insane.
He didn't go about seeking to oppress some other
person. An innocent person.
Me.
"You shifted the chaise orientation." A voice filled the air. Firm. Loud. Authoritative, with the usual skin crawl it gave me. And automatically my eyes rolled to the back of my head.
"Oh good, speak of the devil and he appears."