through my bloodstream. I scoot down gingerly, flicking a cautious look over my shoulder before tilting my head to peek through the dark gap.
‘Don’t ever storm into my office again!’ The door slams and I fly up, swinging around. ‘I’m your fucking boss. You work for me.’
A million words hang off the tip of my tongue, many justified, but they remain exactly where they are, unprepared to back me up, and probably wisely too. I’ve way overstepped the mark, and although Becker is responsible for destroying boundaries too, I’m certain now wouldn’t be a good time to remind him so. He’s currently fighting his way out of his blazer, shouting while he’s at it. He’s fuming.
‘Where’s your fucking respect?’ His jacket gets lobbed on to the couch, then he begins yanking at his tie. ‘Barging into my fucking office. Shouting and fucking swearing.’ The fucks just keep coming and coming, and I accept them all, standing deathly still while he stomps around the library, getting himself into a worked-up, sweaty mess. ‘And in front of my grandad.’ His rant goes on for a good few minutes, Becker jabbering on, me pretending to listen, when what I’m actually doing is silently drawing my own conclusion: his tantrum has nothing to do with my behaviour in front of his lovely gramps, and everything to do with him struggling with grey areas, too. This side of him – the unsure, vulnerable side – is like a redeeming quality. It makes him more human. Shows he has feelings. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
It’s bad. Definitely bad.
My eyes follow him marching around the library until he finally comes to a stop and yanks his phone from his pocket. He punches in some digits aggressively. ‘Vass,’ he barks.
I frown as he begins his dogged march around the library again. Vass? Dr Vass? His therapist? He’s going to have a quick phone session while I’m here?
‘Becker Hunt,’ he snaps. ‘Have her call me back. It’s an emergency.’ He hangs up on a grunt and looks at me with guarded eyes for a few moments. ‘How come you’re so quiet?’ His question is quite endearing.
An emergency? Am I the emergency? Honestly, right now, I want to hug him. My head could also fucking explode. I should ask him to put me in touch with his doctor, too, because I sure as shit need to see a shrink. ‘I didn’t want to interrupt you,’ I say, joining my hands in front of me.
‘Oh.’ Becker’s brows meet in the middle. ‘Well, I’m done now.’ He makes a futile attempt at composure.
‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’
‘Yes, okay,’ I reply, super-calmly.
‘That’s all you have to say?’
I stop myself from asking why he needs to speak to Dr Vass. That’s his business. Besides, he doesn’t know I know he has a therapist. ‘Do you want me to tell you how disappointed I am with you?’ I quietly praise myself for my self-control.
‘You’re disappointed with me?’ He laughs, but it’s a nervous laugh, one filled with apprehension.
‘Yes, I am. You lied to me. There should be trust if our relationship is going to work.’
One of his eyebrows hitches up a little, worry plaguing his face. ‘Relationship?’
‘Working relationship,’ I clarify, getting a thrill from seeing the discomfort that silly word causes him. ‘If you were so desperate to have me back, you should have just said so instead of resorting to using Mrs Potts and tugging on my emotions.’
‘Hey, hey, wait a moment. Desperate?’ He laughs, stepping forward gingerly, like he’s too scared to come close. ‘I don’t do desperate, princess. You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself now.’
‘Am I?’ My question is nonchalant but cocky as hell.
‘Oh my God.’ He looks to the ceiling. ‘Is there any part of you that doesn’t wind me the fuck up?’
‘Clearly not,’ I answer quickly, turning to exit. ‘Maybe it’s best if I leave.’ I have him all figured out.
‘No, Eleanor, wait.’
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Oh, I really do have him worked out. This business between us isn’t done. The chemistry hasn’t been snuffed out by last night’s encounter. If anything, it’s worse, so why on earth am I feeling so happy about that? I should be fearing the worst. I guess I’m finding comfort in the fact that he’s as frustrated and confused by the whole mess as I am. But I still have more to lose, even if it feels like I have the upper hand right now.