“You seem to be under the misconception that our contract gives you the right to disrespect me in front of my staff.” His tongue darts out to wet the corner of his mouth. “Is that what you think, Eliana? You think that a million dollars buys you the right to undermine my authority?”
“You wanted my expertise. Well, that’s what you’re getting.” My pulse races from more than just anger. It’s also from the way his eyes keep dropping to my mouth, the way his shirt pulls across his shoulders when he shifts closer, and above all, from the inappropriate thoughts flooding my brain about what those hands could do well besides cook. “And my expertise says your signature dish will bankrupt us before the year is out.”
A silence consumes us that’s not really a silence at all. It’s this whole cacophony
