CHAPTER 17: Predator in Suit

Penelope had spent the last ten minutes outside Calvin Dawson’s office trying not to faint. This was outrightly ridiculous.

She had survived childbirth, hospital bills, Demetria’s cooking…

Surely she could survive one man. Even if that man happened to look like sin dressed in a three-piece suit.

She stared at the polished oak door before her.

CEO. Calvin Dawson.

Her stomach performed a mutiny. Don't knock, leave and run away to another continent, her mind thought.

All seemed equally possible. If she lived in another dimension.

At last, gathering what remained of her courage, she lifted her hand and knocked.

“Come in,” the sound alone made her nerves tighten and she stepped inside.

Her eyes went to the cold and expensive Calvin behind his broad black desk.

For a while, Penelope stood before his table as he hadn't told her to sit and she begun to ponder.

Was she supposed to… evaporate? Or he just wanted to see her uncomfortable.

Time ran past and finally, “Sit, Miss Adams.”

Her eyes snapped to him and she crossed to the chair opposite him and sat stiffly, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

Calvin lifted his gaze as his dark amber eyes settled on her.

Her pulse skipped traitorously at his lingering gaze and she gulped, internally doing the sign of the cross.

“You seem afraid of me.”

She blinked, “What?”

His mouth twitched faintly, “Very interesting.”

She cleared her throat, “I’m not afraid…Sir.”

He leaned back, “No?”

“No,” she shook her head.

A lie so poor even she grimaced. His eyes gleamed as if he knew and he folded his hands.

“You’ll assist me in works directly from today.”

She nodded, “I understand.”

She was sure his assistant was screaming for joy wherever he was. Less workload for him.

“Are you sure you do?”

She pursed her lips, frowning slightly as she nodded.

His eyes moved over her for some seconds, before pushing a stack of folders toward her.

“Sort these out.”

She stared. There had to be fifty files in that.

“…All of them?”

“All.”

Her mouth parted. Then closed. Seriously?

“Anything else, Miss Adams?”

The way he said it made it sound like a challenge and she took the files.

“No, sir.”

His gaze sharpened, “Don’t call me sir.”

Her fingers nearly slipped.“What? W.. what should I call you then?”

His mouth curved slightly, “Mr. Dawson will do.”

As if that was somehow less dangerous. She nodded stiffly, feeling too stunned to speak out.

For the next two hours, Penelope worked, while Calvin did… whatever powerful mysterious CEOs did.

He was on calls and had online meetings. Also stealing her occasional glances that she kept pretending not to notice.

But she noticed. Every single one. And somehow the room kept feeling smaller. Like it was shrinking to bring them together.

At one point she was sure he wasn’t reading the document before him at all. Only watching her, with that intense gaze. Like he wanted to burn her alive with his eyes.

Why couldn't he stop staring? Didn't he know staring was rude?

Her pen nearly snapped. The heck with this man! Did he make it his life mission to destabilize her?

“Miss Adams.”

She jolted upright, “Yes?”

“Coffee.”

She stared, then blinked. “Coffee?”

He raised a brow, “Is there another word for it I’m unaware of?”

Her lips parted. Then shut, giving him a look. This man.

She instantly stood, “I’ll go get it.”

“I need it black.”

She paused, “No sugar?”

“Yes.”

As she turned to go –

“And Miss Adams?”

She looked back, his eyes rested on her with unreadable amusement.

“Don’t run this time.”

Her face flamed. Fucking jerk!

She instantly turned away, hurrying for the errand without looking back.

When she returned, he was standing by the glass wall overlooking the city.

He had taken his jacket off, and was now only on his crisp white shirt.

His sleeves were rolled up and Penelope couldn't help but admire the outline of his toned body under that shirt.

Her mind, unapologetically, rewinded her memories back to that night and she coughed out to stop herself from choking out of anxiety.

He turned to see her and she immediately set down his coffee.

Her eyes briefly went to him again to see him running his hand through his dark hair and she sighed quietly.

No man should be allowed to look that composed and handsome, while ruining someone’s blood pressure.

“Thank you. You can sit.”

Calvin took a slow sip of his coffee and she returned to where she had been sitting. Then –

“Where do you live?”

The question caught her off guard and she furrowed her brows. What?

“…MacLeir Street.”

He nodded as if storing it away, “Who lives with you?”

Her heartbeat stumbled. Why was he so interested in her personal life?

“My friend…”

“The one at the night club?”

Her throat dried, “Yes…she.”

His gaze held hers and something unreadable passed through his face. But instantly vanished.

“She works as well?”

Penelope nodded, “Yeah…at a tech company.”

Calvin stared. As if measuring what next to ask or maybe assessing her replies.

She bit her cheek and then he set his cup down.

“Are you involved with Wilson?”

Penelope's eyes flew to him, “What?”

“With Wilson,” his tone remained maddeningly neutral. But something beneath it…was that jealousy?

That was practically very impossible. Did he just want to know people she interacted with?

“We’re coworkers.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Why did he keep doing that? Cornering words.

She sighed, “No.”

His expression gave nothing away. Yet somehow…the room felt lighter? As if something had pleased him. Which was entirely absurd.

She frowned almost immediately.

Why did that almost sound like interrogation? And why did he care?

Calvin rose and came around the desk to where she sat.

Penelope’s spine straightened as he leaned beside her, pointing at a report. His shoulder brushed hers and it was as if lightening stuck.

Her breath hitched, as her senses seemed to be acutely aware of him. His scent, breath, proximity…

Focus, Penelope! Oh God…this was a terrible idea.

“This number is wrong,” he murmured.

She frowned then looked at what he pointed. It wasn’t wrong. He had to know it wasn’t wrong.

Or was he just torturing her? She gulped, correcting nothing. Because nothing needed correction.

But still, he lingered. So close enough his voice touched her skin, which sent shock waves through her body.

Then quietly he said, “You’re tense, Adams.”

She nearly died. Kill me…kill me!

“I’m… working.”

“You’re tensed because you're working?”

She licked her lips, feeling her hands tremble. God, he should stop this. She didn't want it.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze to him and he held it. Something flickered in his eyes, but fortunately, he stepped away.

Penelope felt like she could breathe again. Any more second with him that close to her, and she would have passed out.

Hours passed by that day, with tasks appearing one after the other.

To her, many were suspiciously unnecessary and she was beginning to realize he was inventing work to keep her there.

The peacock. Demetria would have cackled.

Near evening, Calvin had loosened his tie while Penny felt she needed a massage right now. Looking at him, it was as if his severe edges of him had softened. Which somehow made him more dangerous. The irony.

He was reading something when he suddenly said,

“File.”

She took hold of the file and he extended a hand. She reached at the same moment to give it to him but their fingers brushed.

Penelope's breath hitched as everything stopped.

Their skin was against each other and there was an immediate spark.

Penelope gasped and she jerked back. Calvin looked at her as her chest heaved and something almost predatory stirred in his gaze.

“Tell me something, Miss Adams.”

Her throat tightened, “Yes?”

He leaned in, enough that she could feel the heat of his voice.

“Why do I feel…” his eyes dropped briefly to her lips. Then back.

“…like you’re running from me because of something?”

Her breath vanished and her heart forgot its duty. Words failed her and she began to feel hot.

No. No.

She needed to leave here. She stood so abruptly her chair nearly tipped.

“I…I should go.”

Calvin didn’t move to stop her. Which somehow unnerved her more. She gathered her papers with shaking hands, turned, reached the door —

“Miss Adams.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn.

His voice came low behind her, “You’ll be working late tomorrow.”

She didn't waste anymore second, she opened the door and escaped.

Inside the office, Calvin stood unmoving, as he watched the closed door. His jaw tightened.

There was something about her being flustered. That nervous little tremble.

Why did it feel familiar?

His fingers brushed the spot where her hand had touched his. It was still warm and his gaze darkened.

Then a slow smile formed.

“Run all you want, Miss Adams,” he murmured. His reflection in the glass seemed almost to smirk back.

“I always catch what interests me.”