𝐌𝐢 𝐃𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐚

𝟏𝟑

I turn to see his eyes lift from my ass, and refocus on my breasts. I keep my calm composure and take a sip of my tea, wishing the slightest bit of alcohol was mixed in it. I lean against my secondary desk, watching as Dylan drinks me in, arousal evident in his statue. I don't have to glance down to know that he's hard, and I don't have to be a rocket scientist to know the thoughts that are swarming in his rotten mind.

He thinks he charmed me. He thinks he seduced me with that god awful smile, and now we're going to do something fun in my office. I feel sorry that he thinks his cock is enough to woo any woman; it's delusional on a completely different level. It'll put me in the greatest mood when his eyes crinkle in despair and fear; when he hears that he'll be fresh candy for the men and maybe certain ladies.

I continue to watch as he adjusts himself before stepping closer to me. A part of me wishes he steps close enough for me to find an excuse to stab my heel through his foot, but I know that won't do me any favors. Personal satisfaction can't get put above my work, unfortunately.

"My lawyer called you Ms. Caddel," he says, showing that ugly smile of his. Almost makes me hope that his teeth will fall out to spare him the tragedy of such a sight. But, it serves him right. "What can I call you, sweetheart?"

"You should call me the same," I answer.

Another step forward.

"Awh, that's no fun. You know my first name—maybe my entire government. Isn't it only fair that I know yours...sweetheart?"

I set my tea down before standing up straight. I was okay with toying with him; I was okay with letting him bathe in the thought of being let go with no consequences, but play time's over. Hiding my disgust for a man can only last for so long.

He takes another step forward, and I see the way he enjoys towering over me. But the arousal isn't there, and neither is the fear. He's so driven by self ego, and narcissism, that he can't tell. I keep my silence, wondering how fast someone can put him in his place and have him quivering at their feet. I could ensure it happens. To ensure that every bruise he ever marked upon a woman gets returned back to him tenfold.

"I don't think you'll want to know my name seeing as I'm about to ensure your arrest," I comment, keeping my calm stare.

Confusion laces his face, and I discreetly drum my fingers on my desk in satisfaction. Dylan stands up straighter, but he puts on his signature smirk to cover up his slip.

"Is that some type of role play, baby? I'm into that."

"I'm into men on their knees. Someone like you. I'm sure the men in jail would do an awesome job at making it a reality. Don't you think?"

This time he falters completely, and his playful, egotistical front is put to the side. "What are you talking about?"

"Did you forget where you are, sweetheart? You're in a law firm, and I'm the lawyer that owns the damn thing. I don't favor men who put their hands on women, and especially vulnerable women. I find you repulsive, and I won't rest today until I get word that an abomination got put in cuffs for good."

Dylan's jaw locks, and he fixes me with a hard glare. I pick up my tea before taking a longer sip, and peek over my cup. I can see that he looks distraught, but the snarl curling at his lip sends a tingle of satisfaction through my body. I want him to be upset. I want him to feel like his life is over, and I want his wife here to throw the fucking cuffs on him, herself.

I set my cup down as Dylan reproaches me, stepping much closer than before. His breath fans my face, but I continue to keep my calm composure, instead of showing the disgust that I feel towards him.