quick smile and stand on the other side of the desk. I knew I shouldn’t have been so standoffish with him at the beginning. I also knew that he was the type who loved the chase, and if I had shown up at his office like I was originally supposed to, I doubt I would have held any power with him.
“You can count on me now,” I assure him.
He raises a brow and opens up his laptop. “We’ll see, my little sprite.”
My cheeks go hot at that. God, that infuriates me so much. This is where I’ve learned that it’s best to just ignore whatever Pascal says or does, especially if he’s doing it to get a rise out of you. The more you fuss, the more he’ll do it, like the boy who used to pull my hair in grade school.
He’s watching me closely, that sly smile on his lips. I raise my chin in response, hoping to look nonplussed.
“Here we go,” he says after clicking a few keys, and the printer on the bookshelf behind him starts printing.
“Don’t we need a lawyer to get involved?” I ask him as he goes to the printer and removes a few sheets of paper.
Another crooked smile. “These NDAs are airtight. If you’re not convinced, you should just try and break it and see what happens to you.” He signs with a fancy-looking pen and then holds it out for me. “Your turn.”
I come over to his side of the desk with caution and stand beside him as he hands me the pen. Our shoulders are touching, and again my nose fills with his scent, something that’s becoming more alluring in a way I wish it wouldn’t.
Taking the pen from him, I stare at it for a moment and then give him a glance. He’s so close to me that I can see how clear his eyes are. There are barely any lines of color or serrations in his irises; they’re just blue, like the kind a child would draw with a single crayon, coloring over and over until it’s completely saturated and ringing the outside with a thick, dark line.
“Having second thoughts?” he asks, his voice on a lower register and gravelly, those eyes of his skimming over my face, focusing on my lips.
I blink and look back at the document. The truth is, I am having second thoughts. I wasn’t exactly looking for a job when I planned to come back here. I had made it an option, a last resort. Now that the opportunity has opened up, though, I know it’s the best way to do what I need to do.
But there’s a chance that I’ll have to break his NDA.
There’s a chance of a lot worse than that, I remind myself.
I clear my throat and pick up the pages. “I should probably look it over.”
“Take your time,” he says, turning around so that he’s leaning back against the desk, feet casually crossed at the ankle. I feel his eyes burning through me, watching my every move, especially my face, as I try to concentrate on the contract.
I won’t admit this to him, but I don’t really have much experience looking over contracts. The only one I had to sign was my lease of the last place I lived in New York, and that was a whole other ball game. So far there doesn’t seem to be anything strange or damaging in the contract, basically just says that I won’t tell a soul of what happens here at the Dumont house.
Here goes nothing.
With a nod, I place the papers down on his desk and I sign on the line. My hand wants to shake, but I think I hide it well.
“Perfect,” he says, taking the papers from me when I’m done. He opens his desk drawer and slips them inside, quickly closing it. If my eyes weren’t deceiving me, I think I saw a handgun in there.
The corner of his mouth ticks up as he notices my focus. “One can never be too careful,” he says, putting weight in his words.
“Are you the one who shot the book in the study?” I ask. I wave the pen at him. “I signed the contract; you can tell me everything now.”
“Mm, how about we start with you telling me everything,” he says smoothly, and for a moment I think he must know. But his eyes are merely curious as they study me.
“Tell you what?” I ask, putting on my most innocent