Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

ZANE

“The numbers are looking good. You and Mark have a good thing going with your team in your district. I think you two should look at opening up a new position, one just beneath the two of you. Someone to work hand in hand with you and run things so that you can take a step back, in a sense. Have more time to mingle with the clients, that sort of thing,” Rob says from our zoom meeting on the screen of my computer.

“I have a few candidates in mind, but Zane isn’t a fan of some of them that I find to be more qualified than the others,” Mark says, cutting me a glare from the screen in front of me.

Dayra. He means Dayra. Just thinking her names has my dick twitching and I’m glad no one can see it from this webcam angle. All I can picture is her pinned against that concrete wall beneath the stairwell. And fuck me if I didn’t wish I was back to hating her just as much as I did before. What can I say, watching her come undone around my cock gave me a soft spot for her.

“Zane?”

Rob comes storming through my fantasy with his scratchy voice, calling me out.

“Are you having connection issues? It looks like you froze.”

Instead of doing the right thing, I play along with it and move in slow-motion before ending the call. He had some good points but my head is pounding. I pushed through my hangover in the stairwell, not letting on to how shitty I feel today, but I feel like death warmed over.

The drive to get my truck this morning was very interesting and filled with plenty of jokes on Mom’s part and a lot of silence on mine. She had too many questions about Dayra and I somehow weaseled my way out of answering most of them simply because, well I don’t really know what the answers to some of those questions are.

How do you classify it? Hey mom, this is Dayra. She works for me and I’ve hated her for years because she’s too perfect and now I am so attracted to her that it blurs all of the lines that I believed to be solid?

I don’t think that’s any kind of answer.

I glance over at the clock in the corner of my computer screen. Five after five. I should’ve left earlier, after the stairwell, but I didn’t want Dayra to think I had only come back inside to talk to her, although I did.

I was done here earlier today but I needed to see her. I needed to hear her make some snarky remark about me being drunk or to give me a death stare. What I got was way fucking better, though.

I check my phone and there are no notifications. I wonder if she’s not texting because she thinks we’re back to normal. I type out a text and stare at it for a moment before I decide to press send.

Zane: If that’s how you treat someone you hate, I’d love to see what your affectionate actions look like.

Just snarky enough to sound like myself but also opening up a line of communication. I grab my things and head to my truck. I’m going to a drive-thru on the way home and then I’m dying in my bed.

The traffic in the city is thick and it takes the drive-thru at the burger joint an extra ten minutes for bacon on my burger, but I waited. A burger without bacon is blasphemy. My food is still hot by the time I walk in the door of my house. I bump the thermostat up a few degrees, since I keep it lower during the day when I’m not home and there’s a chill in the air.

I strip off my suit and opt for a pair of flannel pajama pants and my undershirt. I sit at white marble countertop island bar in the kitchen and scarf down half of my burger and all of the fries. I was starving and there’s no better hangover meal than a greasy burger and fries.

I check my phone to see if Dayra responded but find nothing. I lock it and crawl into bed. I’m so tired I don’t even bother turning the tv on. I fall into a deep sleep until sometime in the middle of the night when I wake up sweating my balls off. I peel out of these flannel pants and sleep naked the rest of the night.

I must have forgotten to set my alarm because when I wake up, I’m sprawled across the bed with my mouth wide open and my phone ringing back to back across the room. I run a hand through my hair and yawn as I stroll across the room and grab my ringing phone from the top of my chest of drawers.

Dayra’s name is lit up across the screen. I swipe it to answer.

“Hello?”

“ Ugh ! There you are. Are you okay?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s ten-thirty and you missed the management meeting that you scheduled and that’s not like you.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, I’m fine. I forgot to set my alarm.”

“Great. Can you let me in? I’m at your front door and it’s fucking freezing outside.”

“You’re outside of my house?”

“Yes. That’s what I just said. I’ve been knocking on the door for the last five minutes and it’s snowing and I can’t feel my fingers.”

“Jesus, Day. Okay. Let me put some pants on and I’ll be right there.”

I slip into the flannel pants I stripped off in the middle of the night and opt to answer the door shirtless. Might as well see what her reaction is.

I open the door to find a shivering Dayra with snow in her hair and chattering teeth. She doesn’t even look at me as she storms in. I close the door behind her and she looks at me, eyes wide.

“Holy fucking shit, Zane,” she says, her mouth gaped open as she stares at my shirtless body.

“Didn’t think I’d look this good half-naked?” I tease, though I know what she’s gawking at.

“You’re covered in tattoos. H—how… W—wow…” she trails off, stepping closer to me. She traces the large Saint Michael tattoo covering my chest and part of my stomach. I shiver as her cold, small fingers skate across my warm skin.

“I made sure none were visible when I wear a suit,” I say, shrugging.

“I feel so stupid. Wow. They’re so beautiful,” she says, grabbing my arm and twisting it as she looks at the tattoos covering me.

“There isn’t a square inch of your skin left untouched by ink from your waist to your collarbone.”

She sounds astonished and I’m amused by the sheer curiosity in her stare. She looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine for the first time today.

“Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I have to get back to the office.”

“You never texted me back yesterday.”

“Yeah. I know,” she says, walking out of my front door and closing it behind herself.

I stare blankly at the door. What the fuck just happened? I scratch my head and head to the bathroom to shower before I head into the office. I’ll pull her aside later and try and figure out what’s going on.

While the water heats up, I check my phone. Sure enough, there’s no response from Dayra. But in my emails I see that this afternoon is the potluck Christmas dinner and party at the office. I plant my palm to my forehead. Fuck. How did I forget that was today?

I shower and stand beneath the spray of the hot water a few minutes longer than I should because I’m not ready to face the day. It’s one of those days where my morning is thrown off and now my whole day feels fucked.

I dress in a blue suit, my rebellion against this holiday season. I am so ready for Christmas to be over with. I’m going to have to get through the party while listening to the cringy Christmas songs and I just known everyone is going to be wearing over-the-top Christmas outfits.

The office is just as I expected, humming with Christmas spirit when I arrive. The receptionist is wearing a bright red, shimmery sweater with a reindeer ear headband on top of her head.

“Mr. Moore! Merry Christmas!” she chirps as I stroll past her desk.

I wave her off with a quick wave over my shoulder. I beeline to my office and shut the door. I’m in a mood, I already don’t like this cheerful holiday and all of the Christmas vomit throughout the office is only pissing me off more.

I have a ton of emails backed up that I spend the majority of the day responding to. Somehow, the phone is quiet and there are no zoom meetings, thank fuck. I already barely survived the last one. It’d be even harder to stay focused today.

A knock on my door draws my attention away from the last email I need to address. Mark enters and closes the door behind him.

“I wanted to talk to you about the new position we’re going to be opening.”

I nod. “Yeah, what about it?”

“I have a few names to throw in the hat and I know you hate Dayra, but you should at least consider her. She’s been nothing short of amazing in the two years she’s been here.”

“Okay. Put her name in the hat. I’m not against it. There are other candidates, right?”

“Yeah. None are half as qualified as she is, though.”

“We’ll see. We’ll hold open interviews the week after Christmas, how’s that sound?”

“Sounds great. I’ll send you the list of names and you can send them their invitation to apply.”

“I’ll have it done before I leave the office today if you get it to me in the next ten minutes,” I say with a forced smile.

“You’re the man,” Mark says on the way out of my office.

I don’t feel very much like the man today. I send out the emails to each individual candidate with their invitation to apply for the position, detailing the interview process and when it will begin. I get a few responses before I leave my desk to participate in the Christmas party. Besides, Mark needs me present as we hand out bonuses for the year.

I’m conflicted on how to conduct myself around Dayra. She’s distant, almost cold toward me today. I don’t know how to proceed. I ponder it for a moment then decide I will act accordingly, pretending that nothing transpired between the two of us yesterday.

I enter the lounge where all of the office is gathered. The chatter is loud and there is Christmas everywhere I look. Even mark is wearing a Christmas sweater. I scan the room, unable to stop myself from searching for Dayra. She’s the only one who didn’t respond to the email about the new position and I want to know why.

I scan the room, skipping right over her at first. When I saw her this morning she was wearing a black jacket and blue jeans. I find her standing next to Jade, one of the other women in her department, wearing a green, sequin embellished cardigan with a solid white shirt tucked into her light-wash blue jeans. Her hair is down and in perfect ringlet curls. The green cardigan makes her equally green eyes pop, stopping me in my tracks.

How have I never noticed how beautiful she is before? I’ve always found her to be pretty, but she’s fucking stunning. Her jeans hug her wide hips, tapering up her smaller waist. Her curves are accentuated perfectly and I find myself imagining running my hands over them. I want to see her bared, fully naked beneath me. I need to know what color her nipples are and how they feel under the caress of my fingertips.

Dayra looks up at me, as if she can hear my thoughts about her across the room. Her cheeks redden beneath my stare and she quickly looks away, back to her conversation with Jade but not before Jade sees the exchange between the two of us.

Trying to redirect my focus, I walk over to the table with the Grinchmas Punch and scoop some into a small red solo cup. I try not to roll my eyes at the absurdity of the Christmas spirit. I take a sip and nearly spit it out. I wasn’t prepared for this to have alcohol in it. It’s surprisingly delicious and I hate it even more now.

“How fitting. The Grinch is drinking the Grinchmas Punch,” Dayra says, appearing beside me.

I glance down at her over my right shoulder and watch as she fixes herself a glass. I refrain from telling her that it’s spiked and watch on in amusement as she takes a sip. She coughs as she swallows it and I can see the surprise on her face. Okay, so she wasn’t the one that spiked it. I somehow find that even more entertaining.

I snicker at her reaction and she offers me a death glare.

“You did that?” she accuses.

“I would never. But somebody did and I should be concerned but I find it quite entertaining. Somebody finally decided to make this lame party a little more lively.”

Dayra rolls her eyes and tries not to smile, but I can see the amusement written all over her face.

“Anyway, who are you calling Grinch seeing as you’re the one in green?” I tease.

“Green is my favorite color, if you must know,” she chides, taking a sip of the lime green liquid in her cup.

“Better be careful with that punch or I’ll end up having to drive you home again.”

It’s my turn for an eye roll. “One time. I drink too much one time and you nor my mom will let me live it down.”

She laughs, a full-on hearty laugh. “Your mom is awesome. I have no idea how she gave birth to such an asshole.”

I feign injury at her words, dramatically placing my hand over my heart. “Oh, you hurt me with your sharp words, a dagger into my bleeding heart.”

“Okay, Shakespeare. Grinch Shakespeare. I guess that’s better than the nickname I have for you.”

“You have a nickname for me?” I ask, cocking a brow at her.

“Yeah, one that you never get to hear.”

“ Now I’m intrigued.”

She grins at me and then saunters away, back to her conversation with Jade. Perfect timing because here comes Mark.

“Ready to give out the bonuses?” he asks, removing an envelope from his inside jacket pocket.

“Ready,” I say.

We stand at the front of the lounger and Mark taps a spoon on a rocks glass to garner the attention of the employees in the room. The chatter fades until there is silence aside from Rocking Around the Christmas Tree playing softly throughout the room.

“Can someone kill the volume on that for a moment?” Mark asks and Dayra leans over and turns the knob. I watch her every movement, the way her breasts hang when she leans forward. The way her tongue darts out over her bottom lip.

I find myself wondering what it was about her that I couldn’t stand to begin with. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I know I am completely fucking screwed.