As far as weeks went, this one was long and arduous. With Britta gone, the entire atmosphere was different. Dull and boring. But today she returned. Her voice filtered down the hall, warm and cheery as she greeted her colleagues. Moments later, she walked into my office, her smile bright, skin freshly bronzed. Although she was smiling, her beautiful almond eyes meant business. Closing the door, she sat opposite me and crossed her legs.
I raised my brows in amusement when she remained silent and expectant. “Good morning, Britta,” I began. “How was your leave?”
“Morning, Hawk,” she smiled, and I was reminded for the millionth time how much I missed it. “It was… refreshing and…” Her eyes gave me a subtle once over. Not subtle enough that I don’t notice. “New suit?”
Her lips pursed together before she responded. “It looks great on you.”
I smiled knowing her palms would be sweaty and her heart would be pounding. That was Britta.
“I’m happy you approve.”
She wiped her palms on her skirt and looked around the room. “Is the AC not working? I’m heating up here.”
I smiled to myself at how predictable she was. Using the controller, I lowered the temperature for her.
“So, what’s on your mind?”
“Game plan,” she said instantly.
She nodded. “Tomorrow… we need a game plan.”
I tapped my pen on my desk and watched her, curious. She watched me unfazed, waiting patiently for me to respond.
“Hawk, I need you to be serious right now.”
“I’m deadly serious.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like you’re looking into my soul.”
I didn’t know about her soul, but I would’ve liked a look under the blouse she was wearing.
“I assure you,” I said, dropping my pen on the desk and leaning forward. “I’m being serious. What do you have in mind?”
“I may be over Roman, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want revenge.”
I cocked a brow. “Revenge?”
She nodded, a smile slowly playing on her lips.
“Britta Valentino, what do you have in that mind of yours?”
“I want him to remember what he lost. I want to drive him crazy.”
This time, I nodded slowly, understanding the angle she was coming from.
She paused and waited on the edge of her seat for my response.
“Did Roman ever make you scream, Britta?”
She frowns. “Scream? Yeah, we only fought toward the end, though.”
I bite the corner of my mouth to stop the smile from taking over.
“That’s not the type of screaming I mean.”
This time as realization dawned, her eyes grew wide.
“That’s… that’s a bizarre question to—”
“I’ll take that as a no then,” I interrupted.
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s written all over your face. A shame. I bet you’re a great screamer.”
When she isn’t writing, Melissa spends time with her husband and little Yorkie, Pocket.
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