His Princess - Stacy Gail Page 0,43
desperate to make up for it.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Joelle abruptly pushed to her feet to stalk her way across the room, so agitated she was ready to climb the walls. “Just forget what he said like it didn’t happen? Pretend he didn’t stomp all over what I told him was important to me?”
“What I’m saying is that if a man abandons his private airplane in favor of following you halfway across a continent just so he can politely open a car door for you, maybe he’s not a complete waste of space. I know you’re feeling raw, but if you can, try to at least acknowledge that when someone fucks up, and they know it, they should at least be given a chance to say they’re sorry.”
She opened her mouth to respond when the front doorbell suddenly sounded. They both froze, before Joelle glanced at the clock on her desk. “It’s not even seven.”
“Gee, I wonder who it could be.” Alice raised her brows. “Do you want me to stay? I’ll stay if you need me.”
She would. That was Alice all over. “You really think he should be given a chance to say sorry?”
“No matter how this winds up, I think every person who fucks up should be given that chance. If they live through their fuck-up, that is.”
Joelle didn’t bother hiding her wince. They both knew Alice’s father hadn’t lived through his ultimate fuck-up, so her foster sister clearly had a unique perspective on the subject. “Okay, Al. And don’t worry about standing guard over me. I can do this.”
“I know you can, hon.”
She walked Alice to the foyer, took a moment to steel herself, and opened the door. Gus, his concaved cheeks dark with a sexy five o’clock shadow and eyes burning with that heart-stopping intensity, stood in the doorway with an expression that would have scared the Devil himself.
“Play nice, kids,” Alice mumbled to no one in particular, before disappearing faster than a Vegas magician.
Right.
Play nice.
That meant starting off on a polite note. “Good morning, Gus. Please, come in. Would you like some coffee?”
He barreled past her like he’d been shot out of a cannon and didn’t come to a stop until he was in the middle of the living room. “I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want any fucking niceties. The only thing I want is to clear up this shit that’s between us.”
“Gus—”
“You were right. You’re not a princess, you’re a goddamn queen. I should’ve listened to you when you told me that, but I didn’t. It took you beheading my stupid ass to finally get that—that I should respect the fucking queen and everything she does. But I can promise you that I get it now. You need to give me another chance so I can prove to you that I understand I was an asshole.” He finally came to stop near her workstation, and he looked at all the equipment covering the desk before he picked up a pair of headphones. “Did you finish that video your boss wanted?”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat so it wouldn’t close up. “Took only ninety minutes or so.”
“Fuck me.” He rubbed a weary hand over his face before he set the headphones aside and faced her head-on. “I should’ve given you your two hours.”
“Yes, you should have.” Then she remembered that she was supposed to play nice. “I should have talked it over with you first before grabbing at that work opportunity that came my way. You’d gone to all the trouble of making the perfect weekend getaway for us, but I didn’t even think about that when Heidi offered me a shot at that Monday slot. I just went for it.”
“You got to grab at opportunities when they show up, because they almost never come around again. I swear I understand that when I’m not losing my fucking mind and trying to keep you all to myself.”
“Is that what happened?” She ventured closer, though she still felt better with the room between them. If he touched her now when her feelings were all over the place, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t shatter. “Because it seemed to me that you simply didn’t see any value in what I do, and that my career—and my ambitions for it—are nothing but silly trivialities. FYI, they’re not. I know you don’t get this, but my job is just as important to me as yours is to you.”
“I do get that, Joelle. That’s what I’m