Alt+Control 25

I smile at him. So he’s a ladies’ man, huh. I don’t like men like him. Too slick, and all charm and hands.

“My name is Kai Andrews. But please call me Kai, Mr. Bronson.” The name just slides off my tongue. Well, I very well can’t tell him that I’m the one his bosses just tried to kidnap. I flutter my eyelashes at him the best I can. This is awkward, getting hit on by a man probably double my age.

“Kai,” Mr. Bronson sounded, letting it roll off his tongue. “What a beautiful name.”

I feel my heart thump, and colour rise to my cheeks. He’s all charm, but very effective charm.

I hear a little cough, and I see Marc standing awkwardly in the corner. I had totally forgotten about him. I walk over to him, and casually snake my arm around his waist. Marc looks down at me in surprise, and I just smile at him.

“Mr. Bronson, this is my husband Derek.” It feels weird to use the word husband in regards to Marc. I could never think of him that way, and it makes me feel awkward to be acting like the devoted wife. But desperate times calls for desperate measures, I suppose.

Mr. Bronson turns his cool smile towards Marc. He sticks out his hand and Marc takes it firmly.

“I apologize if I was being too forwards with your wife,” Mr. Bronson says. “You’re a very lucky man to have such a beautiful and kind woman.”

Marc nods. “Thank you.” He slides a protective arm around my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. This act isn’t good for my health! I exhaust myself trying to be an adult and then nearly have a heart attack every time Marc acts like my husband. Despite my initial fright, I find myself leaning in, enjoying the heat from another human being.

The elevator finally rings for the 35^th floor. I unwind myself from Marc and walk to the exit. Marc walks right in front of me. Just as I was about to catch up with Marc, Mr. Bronson grabs my arm, and slips a piece of paper into my hand.

I look at it, and see it’s his business card. I look at Mr. Bronson inquisitively.

He smiles at me, and there’s something more calculating and cold behind this one. “If you’re unsatisfied with anything, feel free to book something with me. I’ll tell my secretary you’re a priority.” The elevator door rings, and slides shut.

“Creep,” I spit. That was a very unwelcome advance. Yet another reason why I don’t like men similar Mr. Bronson.

“I couldn’t agree more,” says Marc. “When he made that pass at you, I actually wanted to punch him in the face, but that would’ve put our plain in peril.”

I smile at him. He was getting mad… and mostly for my sake. “Thanks,” I tell him, and I’m really sincere. 

“What are you talking about? Nothing to thank me for,” he scoffs, but he smiles back at me finally. “Can I rip up that business card?”

I hand it over to him without another word. He takes it and rips it into tiny pieces, which fall like snowflakes onto the white floor. There’s something satisfying watching him do that.