The Lost One (Lost Series Book 1) (12 page)

“I’m sorry all the same.
”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” I respond quickly and a little harshly.

He seems taken back by my abrupt bluntness. I barely know him. For now, those secrets remain locked away in a box with the key hidden in my heart,
which is tightly guarded.

“Okay,” he replies, reluctantly accepting my answer. “I need to talk to you about some things as well, which is why I went to your place last night.
”

Oh, yeah, I forgot that’s why he came around. He gestures for me to take a s
eat on the couch in his office.

I take a seat, and he follows suit, placing his body inches away from me. He looks conflicted about something. An uneasy feeling is balling in the pit of my stomach. I’m about to hear something I may not be happy about. So much for letting him come to me; I think he is about to let
us
go.

Those walls begin to build themselves up again one brick at a time and they won’t be so easily shattered next time.

“So, ahh…I’m not really sure where to start with this. I’ve never had to have this talk with anyone before you,” he says, running his hand over his hair, which is tied back neatly. I look at his face, really taking in every feature. His bright sky blue eyes can light up as if the sun shines through them, especially when he smiles. The crooked smile he has given me multiple times has the effect of melting my insides. Something I haven’t noticed before is the small scar he has under his right eye. It makes him that much more attractive. He probably got it from one of the boyfriends of the girls he has slept with.

“Just get it out; it can’t be that bad,” I urge him.
He looks at me with that worried look again. Yep, I’m not going to like this if he is reacting this way to his own words, which are about to spill from his kissable mouth. Up goes another row of bricks to my wall.

“Okay, the thing is, this can’t be an exclusive relationship.” My heart stops and drops, shattering into tiny pieces. Everything I thought could
be, now can’t be anything. “It’s not that I don’t want you, I do. I’m finding it very hard to keep my distance and keep things professional.” He clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. I must be staring at him with a dumbfounded look on my face. Our eyes meet, but I’m not really looking at him. I mean I’m looking, but not really seeing.

“
Melodi?”
“Oh, okay, why?” Why is this happening? He leads me on, kisses me, sends me flowers, goes out of his way to give me his number, and now he tells me we can’t have a relationship. So what the hell is this to him? A game?

I look at my hands resting in my lap; they are shaking. I start picking at my nails once again. I knew I should have stayed away. I better start looking for a new job;
I can’t face him every day.

Wait till Flick hears about this. So much for his caring attitude; it’s just a show and I’m just another show pony he thinks he can manipulate to do what he wants, when he wants. Sorry,
that doesn’t work for me.

“It’s,
ahh…a code work ethic thing to not date co-workers.” He is watching me intently, waiting for me to react. I look at him; he is torn. I can see it written all over his face. He rubs his hand over his hair again. I can tell he does it only when he is nervous.

I am so angry about his sudden amendment about his work ethic crap! Why lead me on? My anger begins to escalate; I begin to see red again
.

“What?” I say sharply and maybe a little too loud. “Aren’t you the CEO?” I point at him. What the hell is wrong with him? Does he enjoy playing on girls’ heartstrings? Well,
stuff him!

“I keep my business separate from my personal life,” he says in his professional tone, turning all business on me. Obviously, he must see the hurt on my face. I quickly stand, turning toward
him sitting on the couch.

“Fine.
Thanks for letting me know.” My words are laced with pure anger. A bomb has gone off in my body. I feel the heat emanating off my skin. If he tries to stop me, I will give him another mark on his other cheek. I turn on my heel toward the door, not wanting to be within any proximity of him.

“Wait,
Melodi,” he says softly. I nearly melt because of his gentleness. How does he have this effect on me? I would come at his beck and call anytime, but right in this moment, with so much anger surrounding me, I don’t want anything to do with him.

“No, screw you, Mr Andrews. You can’t just play on my feelings as you have. You want professional, you got it.” I walk to the door, stopping before I open it to leave. “Oh, and thanks for the flowers. They will look great in the trash.” I don’t give him a chance to answer; I storm out.

****

The day continues without a hitch, although I keep my distance and only speak to him when it is work related. He tried to talk to me again when I go and get him to sign paperwork, but I walk out, telling him to leave it on my desk when he’s done. I know I’m acting childish, but I am crushed. My emotions have been put through the blender in the last twenty-four hours.

I would have opened up to him at some stage, but I
don’t see that happening now.

I go to lunch with Flick and Rachel comes along, so I can’t talk to Flick about my incident with the douche bag. I discover Rachel and Flick are sisters separated at birth. It’s hilarious watching them share their special bedroom antics, without caring who hears
.

At one stage,
an elderly lady hops up and walks to another table, shaking her head at us. We all erupt in laughter.

Today, I also admit to the girls I’m a virgin. It’s not something everyone knows, of course. Flick knows and understands why, but Rachel is another story. Every guy she sees who is good looking and nice, she pushes me to go talk to them. She wants me to pop that cherry; those are her words,
not mine.

What kind of girl does she think I am? Right now, I’m the girl hung up on our boss and I shouldn’t be. I mentally kick my train of thought right out into outer space, never
to be seen or heard from again.

We make a deal to go out this weekend to The Phoenix, but even the mention of his club makes my heart clench with the fear of running into him outside of work. Oh, well, I will do my best to keep my distance and try to put him out of my mind.

When I get home, I plan to blast The Pussycat Dolls’ “I Don’t Need a Man.” Yep, that will make me feel better; dancing it out, releasing all the anger and frustration of my crap hole of a day.

The rest of the week flew by and before I know it, it’s Friday. I have been having lunch every day with Flick and Rachel; it’s been great, a total distraction. They keep me laughing and smiling, which is what I need right now.
Corban hasn’t been in the office. He decided to change the majority of his meetings to the client’s place of business. So, basically, he’s avoiding me at any cost, which is fine by me.

The flowers ended up in the bin. I kept the card, not sure why, maybe to remind myself there was, at some stage in my life, a guy who showed interest in me. I’m going to Mum and Dad’s in two weeks, and I still haven’t got my leave form signed. I pull the form from my desk drawer
and begin filling it out.

My desk phone rings,
startling me.

“Case Constructions, Mr Andrews’ office.
Melodi speaking,” I say routinely in my bright, cheery, professional voice. A deep male voice comes over the phone, a voice that sounds very familiar, but yet not. It sends chills down my spine.

“Hello,
Melodi, its Stephen Chase here. I wanted to confirm my appointment with Mr Andrews for Friday of next week at one p.m.. I know it’s really early, but I’m going away next week.” He is sharp and to the point. I quickly open up Corban’s online diary and check for the name.

“Friday of next week, I can’t see your name here, Mr Chase. I have another appointment booked at that time.
”

“
Ahh, yes, that’s my son. He will be at the meeting also.”

“All right, not a problem; it is confirmed. I will add your name to the appointment. We will see you both then.
”

“Yes, thank you for your help.” He hangs up in my ear before I can even say bye.
How rude!
Something about him just doesn’t sit right with me. I’m sure I’ve heard his voice before somewhere. I answer many phone calls, so maybe they are all meshing into one voice.

I’m left a little unnerved from that call. I don’t know why it’s getting to me so much. I finish filling out my form when the elevator rings and the doors open.
Corban steps off, looking his usual sexy self in a navy blue suit with a white, button up, fitted shirt, which doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and his hair tied back. He smiles and greets Rachel. She nods, continuing her phone call. I could sit and watch him all day, every day.

I feel myself relax back into my seat. All the feelings of anger and annoyance leave me. I smile as he struts on through the office. My heart surges from thinking about him and his calm and thoughtful nature.
If only things were be different between us.

Before I know it, he catches me staring at him.
Oh, crap!
His face beams up. His eyes lighten and he stands a little taller, as if me getting caught has made him happier. I quickly avert my eyes, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

My phone rings again as he stops in front of my desk.
Thank goodness, saved by the phone.
When I finish with the call, another call comes in…it’s from Corban’s office. Oh, great, cue shaky hands and accelerated heart rate. Damn him for having this effect on me.

“
Melodi speaking,” my voice cracks.

“Can I see you a moment, please?” His voice is deep and smooth as honey…just imagine what we could do with honey.
Mental slap!
Get that thought out of your head!
My heart races from thinking of the close proximity I’m about to be in with him. But it’s the perfect time to get my form signed. Grabbing it from the drawer, I suck up the nerves and go in to face his exceptionally carved face.

I knock before opening the door. He calls for me to enter. He is sitting behind his desk, and our eyes instinctively lock when I walk in. I break contact while turning to close the door and taking a deep, calming breath to settle the frenzy that’s going on within me
.

“Please, take a seat.” He gestures to the seat in front of his large, oak desk; no couch this time, he is all business. I’m a little disappointed.

As I take a seat, he pulls a form from his desk. Maybe I’m in trouble for something. I don’t think I have been rude to anyone, neither client nor fellow employee. I watch him intently, captivated by the way he moves as his busy hands find the things he needs. Why can’t his hands caress me? That ever-present electric current is coursing through me, setting me on edge.

He clears his throat. He looks nervous and is fidgeting with his pen and not
making his usual eye contact.

“This is just a check up to see how you like the job so far, and we provide feedback about your performance. We do these evaluations a week after starting, again at three months, and one last time at six months.” He looks up at me for the second time since I walked in the door.

“Okay, no worries,” I reply, happy and confident. I’m trying not to let him see how he affects me. A part of me is wishing I never took the job; then I could have this fine piece of ass to myself and not worry about this code of ethics he works by.

I want his arms around me again and his gentle kisses on my lips, working their way along my neck. Passion within me begins to rise. My breath has quickened and that
thump in my chest never eases.

“Are you okay?” he eyes me closely. His crooked smile comes across his face as though he can read my thoughts.
Clear your mind and breathe.
I tell myself.

“Yep, let’s get started,” I say, smiling brightly at him, and hopefully, not revealing how much I want to ravish his body right here in his office.
Snap out of it, girl!

Over the next half hour, he asks me standard questions, such as, do I like the job and would I consider moving up in the company if the chance ever came? He also gives me feedback on how he’d like his meetings to progress with my help in getting coffees, and how he would now like the clients’ files ready the day before. In detail, he explains the procedure for booking his flights and hotels for business trips. He even gives me a list of places he prefers to stay for each destination, enl
ightening me on how anal he is.

“Well, that’s it!” he announces, bunching all the paperwork together. “It wasn’t too bad, was it?” he questions, now seeming more relaxed as
he leans back into his chair.

My body is tense. I don’t think I have shifted positions since I sat down, for fear of giving away my e
motions.

“Nope, it was fine,” I reply. I remember my leave form sitting on my lap and stand to hand it to him. He looks a little confused as to what I’m doing. Does he thi
nk I’m going to walk out again?