Raine (Gods of the Fifth Floor #2) - M.V. Ellis Page 0,45

you can see past the way this has panned out, and appreciate your talents for what they are. You have that thing I was just talking about, and you’d be a fool to throw away an opportunity like this just because you’re scared of what happened between us.”

“It’s not that, it’s just—”

“It’s one hundred percent that. First thing Nate did when he walked in here for Confession was berate me for fucking you. He took one look at you and just knew, because it’s written all over your goddamned face.” That would explain the frosty reception I got from three of the four gods as they left Raine’s office after Confession.

“You need to calm the hell down. It was sex between two consenting adults. We didn’t do anything wrong, yet you’re sitting there looking like you just killed someone and still have their blood all over your hands.”

Stupidly, I looked down at my hands. I was losing my freaking mind.

Chapter 18

Raine

* * *

She shifted in her seat as though she was being bitten by ants. Jesus, she was uptight. Antsy. I couldn’t work out whether I found it hot, or just frustrating, but I was leaning toward a weird combination of both. It was so long since I’d been with a woman who took sex so seriously, and that was kind of refreshing.

On the other hand, the way she was fretting about it was starting to stress me out. Not because I gave a fuck the way she did, but because I was already in a shitty mood after Confession, and her vibe was putting me on edge, which I really didn’t like.

“So, it’s all worked out. HR are just pulling together the paperwork, and then will make you a formal offer with that number on it before close of business. In the meantime, we have a shit ton of work to get through by tomorrow.”

“I didn’t say I would take the offer. In fact, I said no.”

“That’s a formality, and clearly you weren’t thinking straight. We’ll put it down to stress and move on. If you’re worried about keeping up with both jobs, don’t. You’re of way more use to me coming up with the creative goods than you are answering phones and making coffees, so we’ll find someone to replace you, asap, but if you could carry on doing both for, like, the next two days, that would be perfect.”

“I can’t.”

“Okay. We’ll sort something. I’ll get Nate’s PA to find someone right now.”

“That’s not what I meant. I can’t work for you. I can’t take that money. I can’t do any of it.”

“Can’t. Or won’t?”

“That’s semantics.”

“No, it’s not. Not even close. If you can’t do something, it’s because you’re not physically, or otherwise, capable. If you won’t, it’s because you’re scared, or you don’t want to for whatever reason. You can, but you’re saying you won’t. So, what’s your deal?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s. Your. Deal?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Well you haven’t worked for two years, so unless you’re independently wealthy, or have an inheritance or something, you can’t tell me that you don’t need the money. And come to think of it, I know you’re not loaded, or else you wouldn’t be here working in the first place. Yet, here you are, looking to walk away from that kind of money. Why? Out of embarrassment? Regret? Shame?

“So, I ask again, what’s your deal? What were you doing in those two years?” She had the startled rabbit look again, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d gotten up and fled the room, rather than face me any longer.

“Don’t look so shocked. I saw your resumé. Did you think I wouldn’t notice the fact that something was wrong? Unless you went traveling, or were a missionary, or something. So, what were you doing?”

“I’m not really comfortable... it’s personal. It’s not relevant or appropriate right now, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

I laughed humorlessly. Was she for fucking real?

“Oh, well you weren’t so concerned with what was appropriate when we were screwing each other’s brains out last night, now, were you?” Shit. I knew they were the wrong words as soon as they left my lips. She was already skittish. The last thing she needed was me taunting her about shit she wished she hadn’t done in the first place.

“You’re right. I wasn’t. But I should have been, and I regret it. I’m leaving.” She tried to hand me back the piece of paper, but I didn’t reach out