Carpe Diem (Sumettikul's Universe Two)

{4} The Past Comes Back

“I suppose.” I shrug.

“You’re used to taking care of people.”

The edge in his voice attracts my attention, and I glance up at him.

“What is it?” I ask, startled by his wary expression.

“I want to take care of you.” His luminous eyes glow with some unnamed emotion.

My heart rate spikes.

“I’ve noticed,” I whisper. “You just go about it in a strange way.”

His brow creases. “It’s the only way I know how,” He says quietly.

“I’m still mad at you for buying BIP.”

He smiles. “I know but you being mad, baby, wouldn’t stop me.”

“What am I going to say to my work colleagues, to Jack?”

He narrows his eyes. “That fucker better watch himself.”

“Bible!” I admonish. “He’s my boss.”

Bible’s mouth presses into a hard line. He looks like a recalcitrant schoolboy.

“Don’t tell them,” He says.

“Don’t tell them what?”

“That I own it. The heads of agreement was signed yesterday. The news is embargoed for four weeks while the management at BIP makes some changes.”

“Oh...will I be out of a job?” I ask, alarmed.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Bible says wryly, trying to stifle his smile.

I scowl. “If I leave and find another job, will you buy that company, too?”

“You’re not thinking of leaving, are you?” His expression alters, wary once more.

“Possibly. I’m not sure you’ve given me a great deal of choice.”

“Yes, I will buy that company, too.” He is adamant.

I scowl at him again. I am in a no-win situation here.

“Don’t you think you’re being a tad overprotective?”

“Yes. I am fully aware of how this looks.”

“Paging Dr. Flynn,” I murmur.

He puts down his empty bowl and gazes at me impassively. I sigh. I don’t want to fight. Standing up, I reach for his bowl.

“Would you like dessert?”

“Now you’re talking!” He says, giving me a lascivious grin.

“Not me.” Why not me? My inner goddess wakes from her doze and sits upright, all ears. “We have ice cream. Vanilla.” I snicker.

“Really?” Bible’s grin gets bigger. “I think we could do something with that.”

What? I stare at him dumbfounded as he gracefully gets to his feet.

“Can I stay?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“The night.”

“I assumed that you were.” I flush.

“Good. Where’s the ice cream?”

“In the oven.” I smile sweetly at him.

He cocks his head to one side, sighs, and shakes his head at me. “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Mr. Puttha.” His eyes glitter.

Oh shit. What’s he planning?