Chapter 20 THE QUEEN I
Constantine's POV
I'm at my desk by 7:50 AM. The coffee from the second floor machine is in my hand, still too hot to drink but I hold it anyway because the burn against my palms feels…soothing? If that makes sense. I just need something I can focus on that isn't that pain between my legs or the way my wrists throb every time I type.
People fill in the office slowly as they start their duties. Zara walks past me at 8:15 and drops a muffin on my desk without breaking stride.
'You look like hell, Jesus,' she says under her breath.
'Good morning to you too,' I mutter.
'I'm serious. Are you eating? Sleeping?' She pauses just long enough to give me a look that carries concern. 'Is the boss overworking you?’ She pokes and I swallow, shaking my head with a smile as I tried to hide the way my chest thumped as she said it like she knew something.
'I'm fine.' I said quickly, burying my face into my laptop, quickly typing something on it. Not that I know what I'm typing, but I just need to keep myself busy.
'Well, I don't believe you.' But she doesn't push. Just adjusts her bag on her shoulder and keeps walking. ‘Anyways, we'll be having lunch together during the lunch break. Don't make me come get you.’ She says and leaves before I even open my mouth to counter her. I stare at the blueberry muffin. The thought that someone even thought about me enough to offer kindness to me, even though it's not much, makes my heart squeeze in a good way. Soon, Wyatt comes into the office and as usual, the office atmosphere changes and everybody busies themselves with one or two things in the office. Everywhere turns quiet. He walks past me without even sparing me a glance.
I tell myself that I'm relieved that he didn't even acknowledge me. I tell myself that I don't notice the way his jaw is clenched tighter than usual and the way his shoulders are clenched tight. I tell myself I don't care about all these things, and I have no idea what is making my heart fold at these thoughts.
After like…over some minutes, I hear my name and my body tenses at the sound of his voice calling my name in that same voice that he used to call my name last night…oh God.
‘Miss Windsor.’
I grab my notepad and go. He's standing at his desk, flipping through a file with the kind of controlled violence that means someone is about to have a very bad day.
'Close the door,' he says without looking up. I do.
'The Hartford contract. Where is it?'
'On your desk. It's the third folder from the left,’ I mutter, anger bubbling in my chest for the way he keeps talking to me. He looks for it and he sees the file right there. His jaw clenches.
'And the revised projections I asked for yesterday?'
'In your email. I sent it yesterday.'
'The meeting with Chen Industries—'
'Has been rescheduled to Thursday at two PM. I already updated your calendar and sent confirmations.'
He finally looks up and studies me with those ice-blue eyes that see too much. 'You're getting used to the worklife here. Good.’ He doesn't say it with much emotion in his eyes, but I know that that's the best form of compliment or appreciation I'll ever get from him.
I open my mouth to say thank you, but he cuts me off.
‘I was not complimenting you, Птичка, I'm telling you to do better, because if i find out any lapses or sloppiness in your work ever—’ his eyes slowly rake over me, settling on my boobs and then, dragging his eyes back to mine, ‘I'll make you pay for it.’ He says and suddenly goes over to his seat and leans back against his desk, crossing his arms. ‘Don't. Be sloppy.’ He says it like a threat and even though I feel like shrinking under his gaze, some sort of confidence just washes over me and then my chin raises up.
‘I won't be sloppy,’ I say in a sharp voice, because this man looks way too down on me, and I really want to prove to him that I'm not dumb. I'm a girl who graduated from Harvard law school with flying colours and I am not just some dumb girl.
'No.' His eyes drag over me slowly and possessively, a wave of shock and satisfaction settling in them. 'You won't. Because if you are, I'll remind you exactly what you're here for.'
My face burns. My hands clench around the notepad. But I don't look away. 'Is there anything else, sir?'
Something flickers in his expression. Approval, maybe. Or irritation that I'm not breaking the way he wants me to.
'Get back to work.' He flicks his wrist, dismissing me and going over to his leather seat to settle down on, burying his face in his laptop.
I'm halfway to the door when I hear the sound of heels clicking sharply on the ground and before I can even blink, the office door swings open without a knock and a woman walks in with confidence.
‘Wyatty!’ He grins and waves, her eyes lighting up as soon as she locks eyes with him.