He didn’t have a weakness—or at least not one that I knew about.
Doesn’t he? I think you know what his weakness is.
I stared at the sheer black blouse I had in my hand, remembering the little scene in his office just before, and how he’d reached out and flicked the loose button off my shirt.
I’d been so involved with fighting my own instinctive response to him that I hadn’t immediately taken in the flare of heat in his eyes. Or how his gaze had dropped to where the fabric gaped, and that heat had become a blaze...
I shivered at the realisation, my breath catching.
Was it me? Was I a weakness for him?
I glanced down at the blouse, an idea forming in my head. It was the kind of thing my mother would suggest, which immediately made it something I’d never consider, and yet right now I was damn well considering it.
Xander didn’t want me, not given how much he obviously despised me, but he’d certainly liked looking at my tits. Then again, most men did.
Unlike my mother, I’d always hated my looks. Hated the responses I got from men because of them, the way people only ever seemed to see a ‘beautiful woman’, never me. And I’d never wanted to use them the way Mum did, to get what I wanted from men.
But...this was different. I wouldn’t be using my looks to get ahead in my career; I’d be using them to drive Xander King batshit crazy, and there was definitely an appeal in that.
So maybe I should let him see my breasts a little more. And maybe I should find a tight skirt that made my ass look great and a pair of heels that would make my hips sway when I walked.
And wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge?
I pulled the blouse off the rack, found a tight-fitting navy pencil skirt to go with it, then took both of them into the changing rooms to try them on.
They were perfect. The blouse was sheer enough to give a few hints of the lace of my bra, but not too sheer that it would break any dress codes, and the skirt showed off my ass like a dream.
Xander had given me enough money for both skirt and blouse, and I even had enough left over for a cheap pair of black patent stilettos that I found in the shoe department.
Half an hour later, dressed in my new clothes with my old ones in the shopping bag, I headed straight back to King Enterprises, determined to put Xander King firmly in his place.
When I got there, I pushed open his office door without knocking and went straight in.
He was sitting behind his big black desk, lounging in his black leather executive chair and talking on his phone.
I dumped my shopping bag then straightened, folding my arms and staring challengingly at him, my chin lifted.
He continued his conversation, but his gaze was fierce on mine before dropping down my body to take in the new clothes I’d bought. And, sure enough, now that I was looking for it, I caught him unmistakably lingering on the curves of my breasts and hips.
This time I didn’t feel the anger and disappointment and shame that usually caught me when men looked at me that way. No. This time I was glad he was looking at me that way. Because if he was it would give me some power and if there was one thing I needed to get through this month with Xander as my boss, it was power.
Eventually, he ended his conversation, placing the phone carefully back on his desk before clasping his long-fingered hands on the desktop in front of him.
His gaze was relentless, boring into me, staring at me so intently it was like he was trying to see into the depths of my soul.
I forced myself to stare back. ‘Well?’ I demanded when he didn’t say anything. ‘I hope this is “work appropriate” enough for you?’
‘Turn around.’ His voice was flat and yet somehow full of dark undercurrents that made all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
I lifted my chin higher, determined not to give anything away. ‘Why?’
‘No questions. Just do it.’
And why not? Wasn’t I going to show myself off to him? Tease him with what he couldn’t have? Drive him crazy?
I gave a shrug and did as I was told, turning slowly around, letting him get a good look at my butt before straightening my spine to thrust my breasts out a bit more.
Except when I turned back to face him, he wasn’t looking at my breasts. He was looking at me, the expression on his handsome face so stern my mouth went dry.
I had to force myself to speak. ‘You can take the money for the clothes out of my pay packet.’
‘No.’ The word was heavy as iron, the rule of law.
Bastard.
‘Like I said, I’m not taking your charity.’
‘You’ll take what you’re given.’ Slowly he unlinked his hands and pushed himself up from the desk. ‘Everyone here gets a clothing allowance. You’re no different.’ He came around the side, heading towards me.
And my heartbeat sped up. I wanted to back away, retreat before him, but there was no way in hell I was going to give ground so I stayed where I was, daring him to come closer.
He did, stalking me like the panther he was, not stopping until he was right in front of me, towering over me, the force of his black stare like a hand pressing down on the top of my head. ‘Tell me why you can’t afford to buy yourself work clothes, Poppy.’
Oh, great. This again. I’d thought—hoped—he’d forgotten.
‘Don’t you want to talk to me about the job?’
He ignored me. ‘Lily gets a very generous allowance. There should be enough for the both of you. Certainly enough for you to buy clothes.’
I didn’t want him to know that Mum was basically spending everything she got. That one of the many reasons I had to take this job was because I had to support her. Again, it was a vulnerability I couldn’t afford and, apart from anything else, it felt disloyal to tell him.
If he found out the truth, he might take Mum’s allowance away and I couldn’t let him do that. We’d have basically nothing to live on at all.
I lifted a shoulder. ‘I spent it—no big deal.’
‘All of it?’
‘Yeah, all of it.’ I gave him a smile. ‘It’s only money, right?’
He was silent, watching me, his gaze scalpel-sharp.
Silence gathered, tension pulling tight in the air around us.
Awareness of him prickled over my skin, making me feel restless and achy. I wanted to be as still as he was, as sharp as he was, to not give away how his nearness got to me, but that restlessness was building, making me want to move.
Did he know that I was lying? Could he sense it?
‘Do you have enough to live on?’ he asked. ‘To pay your bills and rent?’
I nearly blinked at the question because it wasn’t what I was expecting. I thought he’d launch into a lecture about spending or demand an itemised list of expenses or something.
‘Why?’ I couldn’t quite keep the edge out of my voice. ‘Worried about all your precious money being spent?’
His straight, dark brows lowered. ‘I’m more concerned with you potentially not being able to afford to pay your bills. Sydney is expensive.’
Again, that was not what I’d expected. Was he really worried about that? If so, I wasn’t sure I liked it. It made me uncomfortable, made the pull inside me towards him that much more insistent.
‘I