I expect the coffee to be started since there’s nothing I like more than a nice cup of steaming hot coffee in the morning.” He hated coffee, and he suspected she remembered that. Seeing the humor in her eyes, he continued on with his list of completely bogus instructions.
Darcy sat back and listened to the litany of bullshit coming out of his mouth and had to stifle the need to laugh. She couldn’t lie; it was nice seeing this side of him again. She thought he had lost it. Had he felt guilty for his actions at Peacock or was it possible that he felt something besides indifference toward her? Either way, she intended to enjoy this lighter side of Lucien.
When he wasn’t brooding, he was even more beautiful. She half listened and used the opportunity to just stare. She remembered those lips. Even at seventeen, he’d known what he was doing. Jealousy churned in her gut over all the women he’d later used those lips on, even realizing it was she who had pushed him away. Karma was vicious.
“Are you listening, Ms. MacBride?”
“Yes, Mr. Black, the stapler should always be on the left of the desk and the tape dispenser on the right. Though I would like to point out that I am left-handed and so it’ll be a bit awkward for me to be constantly reaching across myself to get to the tape.”
His lips curved ever so slightly and the sight of it was like a hit from a defibrillator. He looked at her rather magnanimously before he said, “Well, I suppose I can give you some leeway regarding the tape.”
“They should throw a parade in your honor,” Darcy countered with the same generosity.
“Do you think this is a joke, Ms. MacBride?”
“Not at all, Mr. Black. I assure you I am giving your instructions all the attention they deserve.”
She saw him bite his tongue and knew he was trying to keep himself from laughing. His tone sounded mildly disinterested when he asked, “You know how to type, yes?”
She lifted her two pointer fingers and wiggled them at him. “Taught myself.”
“Touché. There’s a file of correspondence that needs to be typed up. Once you’re done with that, we’ll take it from there. That’s all.”
Darcy stood and started from the room when Lucien added, “Welcome to the team, Darcy.”
She turned to find him staring at her, and the look in his eyes made her heart move into her throat. It wasn’t Mr. Black welcoming Ms. MacBride; it was Lucien welcoming Darcy.
“Thank you . . .” She almost added “Lucien” but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She turned and walked out of his office with his name left unspoken between them.
At lunchtime, Darcy decided to slice up an apple to go with her sandwich, but she wasn’t paying attention because her thoughts were on that small smile that Lucien had given her. She hadn’t expected humor; she’d been prepared for him to be harsh and cruel, but not silly, decreeing where the tape dispenser should be placed on her desk. She chuckled and the knife slipped, slicing into her finger.
It didn’t hurt and she thought she must have just nicked it, but with one look she knew she was wrong. It was deep, almost to the bone, and she reacted by cursing like a sailor.
“Fuck!”
Lucien appeared in the threshold of the kitchen. “I don’t know the type of place you are used to working, but here we don’t use that kind of . . .”
And then he saw the blood dripping down her arm.
“What the fuck did you do?” he roared as he reached for a towel to wrap her hand in.
She was feeling stupid enough already and his bellowing, regardless of cause, set her off. “I was attacked by a vampire. What the hell does it look like happened? I was cutting up my apple and the knife slipped.” Some of the anger gave way to fear, and she added more softly, “I think it went to the bone. I may need stitches.”
“If you can see the bone, then you definitely need stitches.” He reached for his phone as he started to guide her to the sofa in his office.
Despite her best efforts, her next words came out as more of a plea: “I don’t want to go to the hospital.” She knew stitches meant the hospital, but her fear of them was illogical and crippling.
Darcy felt Lucien tense at her words. “Okay. I’ll call a friend, but I