Chapter 09

A lthough I didn't do it on purpose–Kev and I spent the afternoon on a video call with a tech manufacturer in Korea–I was hoping that by messaging Andrea so late in the day, she'd give up and reconvene on Monday. But that was stupid of me. That woman is too relentless for that.

So now, we'll have to spend some alone time in my office on a Friday evening—again.

I thought we were okay now, considering our talk last week. But it isn't lost on me that she has avoided me every day since. I'm unsure why she wants to see me now, but I expect the encounter to be tense, like always.

Making a poor first impression is the norm for me. I'm not good at meeting new people and don't particularly enjoy it. My world is small and predictable, and I like it that way. I have a handful of old friends, and that's good enough for me—quality over quantity.

But it's been a while since someone has had such a guttural reaction to me, and although it never bothered me in the past, I dislike it this time around. It's not like I want Andrea Walker to like me, but I'd rather she didn't hate me. It seems that I fucked it up, though, and changing her opinion of me would take much more effort than I'm willing to make.

Ultimately, she doesn't have to like me as long as she respects my authority and keeps working for us.

She walks in with all her things, as well as a laptop bag. She doesn't wait for instructions and marches up to my desk. "‘Evening," she greets me.

My desk is neatly organized, with my computer on one side and nearly nothing on the other, so someone could sit in front of me, and we wouldn't be blocked by anything. That's where she sits down to take her laptop out. My eyes remain on her as she prepares everything with efficient moves, and then she looks up at me for the first time since she came in.

Today, she's wearing a T-shirt with the logo of the Hello World Convention on it, which piques my interest. "Have you ever attended?" I ask, pointing at the graphic.

She looks down and understands what I mean. "Oh, no. This is some merch I got from their website. I've always wanted to go, but it's for professionals only, and the small company I worked for didn't have the budget for the trip."

"I see."

We have been attending the prestigious convention every year since Kev and I created Kelex, and this year, he even wants us to have our own presentation there. I don't say that, though, because I fear it'll sidetrack whatever she's here for.

She hesitates on how to start, her eyes tracing over my shirt for a moment, halting around my collar. I'm reminded that I opened a couple of buttons right after the video call because it was smothering me. The pressure she's putting on herself to show me whatever she's here for has her tense and flushed.

When she meets my eyes again, she almost seems flustered by it.

"You have something you want to show me?" I ask, using my most amiable voice.

"Yes, sorry. Um… I have been working on an app to help my brother because dating is hard for him. Oh, he's deaf, by the way," she adds, even though I remember that detail from her cover letter. "So, I thought I would create an app to help him. It turned out to be a little more arduous than I thought. It was supposed to take me a couple of months, and I'm over two years in now, with a lot of things still to improve."

Rambling is not something I'm used to from her. She's usually so determined and confident that I wonder what she's about to show me. It must be something close to her heart since it has her twisting her hands before her, fingers picking at her chipped blue nail polish.

"The idea was to turn any phone into an ASL Rosetta Stone," she explains, turning her laptop around so it faces me.

The screen is divided into three parts: the webcam filming her in the top left corner, an empty text box in the lower left, and lines of code taking the whole right side.

Dismissing her anxiousness, she signs something for the camera.

Perplexed, I see the code get into action, and in the empty box, text appears. At first, it's the literal translation of the signs she just did, but it then turns into a proper sentence .

Hi, I'm Andrea. It's Friday evening, and I want to go home.

The shock of it has me freezing all over. There's no way. She can't have done it.

"Sign something else," I command, bending forward to see better as I adjust my glasses.

I'm focused on the screen, so I don't see what she signs. But another sentence appears, perfectly translated. Polite people say please.

I gaze at her from over my glasses. "Sorry."

She did it. She actually did it. She cracked sign language recognition, which is something I've been trying to do for years.

Dazzled, I lean back in my chair and remove my glasses to pinch the bridge of my nose with closed eyes. All that information is hard to process at once. After a few seconds like this, I return to my original position.

"Andrea, this is incredible."

The utter delight on her face reminds me that I don't compliment people enough. She should know just how amazing what she did is. She shouldn't be this surprised that I'd find it extraordinary.

"Thank you," she says, flustered once more. "And I did it all on my own. My brother didn't even help me," she adds, reminding me of the misunderstanding when she started here. I probably shouldn't have implied she had help for the test, but my rational mind refused to accept the truth.

"Can I see some of the code you came up with?" I ask, pointing at her computer.

"Sure."

She joins me behind the desk and opens a script. It has to be her most impressive one, with thousands of lines of code. I'm so enthralled by it that I barely pay attention to her presence so close to me, her flowery scent filling my lungs. This is eons ahead of everything we did when we tried to accomplish the same thing a few years ago.

I've known for a while that she was a sensational coder. But this goes so much further than my expectations. She single-handedly created one of the most impressive applications I've ever seen.

Humbled and overwhelmed, I turn to her instead. She swiftly looks away, but I gather she was staring at me, probably curious to guess my reaction from my facial expressions.

As she reads the code on the screen, I quickly take her in. It's as though she's getting prettier every time I see her. Her profile is gorgeous, and I've grown to appreciate her slightly messy curls. Her plump mouth has been invading my thoughts, even though I've barely seen her in these past two weeks. The cushiony swells of her lips beckon sin, and I'm ashamed at how much I've been thinking of them on me—even in my sleep.

Between my grandmother's passing and everything else, I haven't gotten around to finding a new bed partner. Celeste isn't an option unless I'm willing to endure more of her demands for something serious between us. As I look at Andrea, I realize I don't want to find some random woman for some mindless release. She would pale in comparison, and I would still end up frustrated and lusting after my new employee.

No, what I crave deep down isn't just sex. It's her . I want to fuck her brilliant brains out. Anything other than that wouldn't be enough. Not anymore.

The thought of it has my cock swelling under my desk. The way it presses against my slacks is enough to bring me back to the moment, and I tear my gaze away and back to the screen.

"How much?" I bluntly ask.

"Um, I'm not sure. I spent well over one thousand hours on it, I'd say."

"I meant how much do you want for it?"

"Oh …"

For some reason, this seems to be the last thing she expected me to say. But why would she show me her app if not for that?

Taken by surprise, she opens and closes her mouth several times, trying and failing to speak. When she does, she stumbles on her words.

"Uh, at a rate of fifty-five dollars per hour, which is my current salary, it would mean something along the lines of sixty thousand dollars, which seems both too much and too little. I don't want to pass for an underachieving idiot or a greedy imbecile, so how much would you pay for it?"

I gaze at the door, knowing I'll get an earful if Kevin hears of this. He's a ruthless business shark, but it's not my style.

"What I'm going to tell you doesn't leave this room. Is that clear?" I gravely ask. Perplexed, she nods. "For a tool like this one, finished and operational, we could be willing to spend around two million for its exclusive usage."

Her eyes widen and her lips part with shock as she understands that her life is about to change drastically.

And the first thought that comes to my mind is that, even though she's about to be rich enough to quit and stay home all day, I hope she doesn't.

U pon hearing Lex's estimation, my first thought is, Goodbye, pre-cooked meals, hello deliveries !

And the first sentence I formulate is, "Two million… dollars?"

He looks wholly unimpressed by that and answers, "No, rupees." His sarcasm takes me by surprise, and I can't even take offense to his tone. Yep, I deserved that one.

"Although yours is well-advanced, it still isn't finished, so the value decreases. Furthermore, you're a single individual, not a company, so once more, the price lessens."

Still hung up on the cold two mil he dropped on me, I'm not registering much of what he says. He notices and snaps his fingers in front of my face. "Focus, Andrea, I will only tell you this once. I have to check the extent of your work, but given what I've seen, the price you ask for should range between four to six hundred."

"Four to six hundred… thousand?" Okay, I need to shut the fuck up until my brain works again.

He doesn't even bother to answer me this time. "I can help you determine the exact value of your work if you want. I'll be the one assessing it anyway if you want to sell it to us."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you being so honest? I mean, you can tell me pretty much any number—I don't know any better. Why are you not trying to scam me?" Or maybe he is, but he's great at hiding it.

He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. I try to ignore how his bulging muscles stretch the fabric of his shirt, making his impressive physique even more stunning, but I'm a lost cause.

He's wearing a light blue button-down today, and the sleeves are rolled up, revealing his powerful forearms and the sparse dark hair on them. To add to his state of looseness, a few buttons are undone at his throat. I try to stop myself, but my eyes lower to the triangle of skin exposed. This is like a Bermuda Triangle, and something mystical keeps pulling me to it. His chest is tanned, like the rest of him, and I can see dark hair peeking out from the opened shirt.

"I'm not opposed to negotiating harsh prices with other companies," he explains, commanding my eyes to look up. "They have the backbone to sustain it, and it's the law of the market. But dealing with individuals, especially one of our employees, is different. Also, you're a smart woman. You can find out the truth and sell it elsewhere."

His justification makes sense, but the only thing I can think of is that he thinks I'm smart. I didn't expect him to be this honorable.

"I already told you I wasn't an asshole," he reminds me. I flinch, disconcerted to see I'm so transparent. Kate always tells me my expressive face is terrible at hiding my feelings, and this might be proof of it. "So, do you want to do an initial assessment of what your work is worth?"

I nod energetically. Hell yeah, I do!

He goes around his desk and grabs the visitor's chair—where I sat earlier—to settle it next to his in front of my computer. It isn't a small, light chair, but some kind of heavy designer armchair, and he moves it easily, veins bulging in his forearms.

His lovely packaging has me forgetting all about the unpleasant interior.

It isn't helping my case to know that this man has enough strength to lift me up against a wall, keep me there for a while, and barely break a sweat. A mental image of Alexander fucking me with passion against one of the walls of his office, his perfect naked body shining with perspiration as he ravages me with deep, hard, and powerful thrusts, makes its way into my brain.

The dry sound the chair makes when he settles it down takes me out of my naughty thoughts. Ugh, Idris is obviously not enough to contain my libido.

He literally just moved a chair, and that's enough to make me feral.

We explore my work together while I avoid glancing at him as much as possible. I'm not very good at it.

He has a gorgeous profile, with a straight nose perfectly balanced with the rest of his features. In my fantasies, when he slowly kisses my heated skin, his mouth is always tantalizingly soft and gentle. Would it be the same in real life?

Lord, it's ridiculous how much I'm drawn to him. I'm close enough to smell his cologne, something deep and heady, but he isn't wearing too much of it, so it isn't unpleasant. I observe the sharp line of his jaw, the grain of his skin and scruff…

Even when I force myself to stop peering at him, his smart brain is enough for my body to maintain a constant flush. I'm continually impressed by how quickly he catches up with my intentions, and how fast he comes up with ways to correct or improve problematic elements .

Forty-five minutes into our talk, I send a text to Oli. It's clear that I can't make it, as we've barely scratched the surface. Oli's reply comes quickly, and my heart twinges as I read it. He insists it's fine and expresses how proud he is of me.

I feel extremely guilty because a small part of me is relieved we won't have our date tonight. And I hate myself for it.

But I'm distracted away from that as we go back to work. We spend another hour on everything, and I can't get enough of Lex's appreciation for my work. He's aware of the immensity of what I programmed and voices it a few times throughout.

Eventually, when we reach the end of his appraisal, he leans back in his chair and silence fills the air. I slip my hands under my thighs, not sure what comes next. When it becomes awkward, I glance at him sideways. He's holding his folded glasses, and his eyes are on me. There's something unfamiliar in his gaze, almost as if he is enthralled. It's strange, coming from the brooding man he is, but I guess this app could really be game-changing for the company.

For several seconds, he keeps looking at me strangely, until I clear my throat to break the awkward tension. That snaps him out of it, and he returns his attention to the complex script displayed on my laptop.

"Do you want to sell it to us, or would you rather explore your options?" he asks, very businesslike.

I don't need to think much about it before saying, "I like Kelex's values, and I know that a tool like this would be made accessible for all, unlike so many other companies. I'd rather know it's in good hands than make more money. And I'd also love to be part of the team that brings it to the finish line. So, yes, I'd like to sell it to you."

"Good," he agrees with a nod. "We're supposed to wait for the sale to come through before we can start working on it," he says. "However, I would like it if we could start as soon as Monday. The app could be released in six months to a year, and I don't want to waste a day."

Wow, that's even faster than I imagined. "I don't see why we couldn't. But I need some kind of contract stating that Kelex will make me a fair offer for the app so I'm sure I won't get scammed."

"I'll have it prepared."

"Oliver is already involved in the project, so I thought maybe I could work with him on it," I suggest.

"No," he counters dryly. No? What does he mean, no ? "Mason and Steven are more qualified to work on it. They are far better when it comes to movement recognition, deep learning algorithms, and artificial intelligence. I'll assign you a few people from the sub-dev team to help with smaller details. We'll also get two or three people from the graphic department so they can start sketching and find a concept."

Mace and Steven? Well, I have no problem with them. But I do feel sorry for Oli. He would love to work on this with me. It isn't rare for us in the Troll's Lair to help each other, so maybe we'll get to work together, anyway. I'm honored that I'll have my own little team to manage so soon after starting here.

"Alright, I'll work in tandem with Mace and Steven, then."

"No," he counters with the same authority as before. "I'll have your computer set up here. You'll work with me."

Naturally, I'm confused as fuck and think he's messing with me. But his serious expression proves he isn't, in fact, joking. My amusement dies instantly, and blood leaves my face.

What the hell just happened?!