Defying Dorian: Bad Boy Billionaire Romance (36 page)

“
Q
uit looking
over there you guys,” I groaned.

“Why?” my friend Christine replied. “You keep doing it.”

I slunk down into the booth a bit, horrified I’d been caught looking at Gabe and now having to explain myself.

“He’s cuuuute,” hummed my other friend Ellie. “What's his name?”

Clutching my sweater sleeves inside my palms, I felt moisture come to my skin as my friends interrogated me about him. Besides Ellie and Christine, there were my two other friends, Kelly and Cheri. They were all beauties, who unlike me fought men off on a daily basis. In fact, the only time men usually talked to me was when we were all out together and they wanted to get close to one of them. Now that the situation reversed itself, I was literally like the proverbial fish out of water.

“Fiona…” Ellie said with a leading tone in her voice. “I’m not gonna ask you a third time. What. Is. His. Name?”

I chewed the inside of my lip for a moment before reaching up and tugging a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Gabe,” I muttered.

“Wooo…” Cheri cooed. “Angelic.”

“You’re going to have to get used to this kind of thing, Fiona.” Ellie added.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“You’re gorgeous.” Ellie said. “You know, finally coming out of your shell. Men
are
going to notice.” She glanced back over and sucked her lower lip in as a flash of lust came to her eyes. “I wish he'd notice me. If you don’t want him, I’d gladly take him off your hands.”

“You guys are being ridiculous, okay?” I groaned, as I shrugged off their comments. “Our conversation was
really
awkward. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. There’s no way he’d be interested in me.”

Just then, the waitress appeared, providing me with a much needed respite from their relentless grilling. As the girls asked questions about the menu, I peeked over Ellie’s shoulder back in Gabe’s direction only to find him staring straight at me.

What the hell am I doing to myself? This is ridiculous, Fiona. Stop it. Now.

Sinking down into the cool leather of the booth a bit further, I tugged my sweater down over my curves before reaching up to grab my menu. I was being stupid. Now was not the time to lose focus. Not after all the years I’d put in to get to where I was. Tomorrow was too important and this discussion was nothing more than pure silliness.

Wasting time fantasizing about it wouldn’t help me one bit when I interviewed at Hawkins Biotech. It literally was my dream job. Something I’d lusted after ever since I decided what I wanted to do for a career ten years earlier. I've heard that’s what tragedy does to a person. It focuses their priorities in life. I’d never really given the notion too much credence though. It was natural for me to plan, think ahead. You know... budget, calculate, count, save and control.

My friends teased me with comments about having chronic OCD and the like. Frankly, I didn’t understand how anyone got by without discipline in life. Most people could do with a little more organization, structure and control in their lives,
not less
. But anyway, I’d grown used to the jokes. What stung at first, maybe even hurt, rolled right off me now.

I was in charge and doing exactly what I wanted.

Besides, I wasn’t the girl who got the guy, and a random encounter in a stupid bar wasn’t about to change that fact. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I was inexperienced, but one drunken screw in my sophomore year left me with little interest in chasing men around, so I didn’t bother. Of course tonight, the girls weren’t having any of it.

“What did he say to you?” Kelly asked, as eagerness flashed to her features.

Still nursing my soda from earlier, I took a sip of the bubbly citrus drink before placing it back down on the table.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

As I lied, I reached down and flicked at my charm bracelet, spinning the four different-colored gems in order, one after the other.

“Don’t ignore us, Fiona,” Christine warned. “If you do, we're going to go right over to your little archangel’s table and give him your number.”

“No!” I exclaimed with a loud whisper, knowing they’d make good on their promise. I glared at my friends, sending a not-so-subtle warning to them as I moved from one to the next, staring them down.

“Well if you ask me…” Kelly snorted as she dismissed my non-verbal threat. “By the look in his eye, he’d take you to the coat room and try to fuck you right now if he had the chance.”

Reaching my hands up into my hair, I groaned as I leaned forward and propped myself up on the table’s edge with my elbows. Kelly’s comment only made things worse. My suddenly skanky friends began to grunt in agreement with her offensive assertion.

“Yeah he would,” Ellie said with a throaty tone.

“You guys!” I said as I pulled my hands out of my hair and dropped them to the tablecloth, palms flat. “Enough. Now, this is supposed to be a nice quiet evening. Please don't stress me out. You know I won’t be able to sleep. I don’t want to get sick because I’m exhausted.”

“Oh poo,” Ellie groaned.

“Yeah, really Fiona.” Christine added. “You’re never sick. It's all in your head.”

“That’s not true,” I replied, straightening up in the booth. As if they needed a reminder, I rattled off my current string of ailments including my unexplained knee and ankle injuries from last year. Then of course there were my seasonal allergies, a persistent sore throat and the occasional migraine. The fact that I didn’t come from the strongest stock never seemed to be of any importance to them.

“You’re a hypochondriac, Fiona,” Cheri said. “You know it. We all know it. The next time you’re really sick will be the first.”

I thinned my lips.

Ellie leaned in towards me. “Forget about all that. Did he ask you for your number?”

“What?” I scoffed. “No. Of course not. When has a man ever asked me for my number, Ellie?”

Seriously, I didn’t know what had gotten into all of them.

Am I really this pathetic when it comes to men?

Casting a hopeful glance at Gabe once again, I noticed that for the first time he wasn’t doing the same.

* * *

I
’d spent
the better part of a week shopping for my interview outfit, a black three-quarter-sleeved, ruched dress with an A-line silhouette and a pair of cute black heels to match. Even though I wasn’t in the kind of position that demanded impeccable attire, I wanted to make the best impression possible.

With my wardrobe in order, I arrived and parked outside the gleaming steel-blue structure that was the headquarters of Hawkins Biotech at precisely fifteen minutes until nine in the morning. It probably goes without saying, lateness is a
huge
pet peeve of mine. I can count on one hand the number of times I've been late in my life. In fact, I only have to use one finger and that time it wasn’t even my fault.

Anyway, I’m never late.

After walking my way across the parking lot, I tugged at the handle of the large glass entrance and walked inside. Immediately, I felt a chill against my skin as an air-conditioned lobby breeze hit me. I made my way towards the bank of elevators, the sound of my heels
clacking
across the marble echoed off the lobby walls. After pressing the button to go up, I reached inside my purse to get my compact. I pulled it out of my bag, and the elevator doors opened a few moments later.

Drawing my eyes up, I froze in place as its sole occupant came into view.

Gabe.

Dressed quite differently from our talkative flirt at the bar, Gabe stood with his back against the elevator wall in a casual pose. With one hand inside the pocket of a perfectly-tailored silver suit, he smirked as our eyes met once more.

“Well, well… Fiona.”

I hesitated for a moment, just long enough so the elevator doors began to close. Gabe pushed himself off the wall and reached for it, hooking his hand around the door. As he did, they snapped opened again with a pulse in the opposite direction. I smiled and slid the strap of my purse over my shoulder as I stepped inside.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

After I entered, I turned towards the panel full of buttons and pressed the one for my floor. As I did, Gabe spoke up from behind me.

“So now what? Are you stalking me?”

I thinned my lips as his line of questioning picked up right where he left off at the restaurant. What a rude thing to say.

“No,” I replied with a disdainful tone. “I am not
stalking
you. Do you remember the interview I mentioned to you?”

“Ohhhh, so this is where the big interview is?”

I did a half-turn towards him, rubbing my forearms in an effort to warm myself from the chill in the building.

“Yes,” I replied. Still a bit annoyed at the stalking comment, I did my best to shrug it off. After all, if he happened to be an employee, there was no sense in making enemies. I tried to change subjects. “Do you work here?”

“No,” he replied, as he assumed his previous position against the elevator wall. “I just like to ride the elevator all day long in a suit and tie.”

I frowned at his nonchalant reply. “In other news, I see you haven’t lost your ability to charm.”

“And I see you still enjoy it,” he quipped.

I smiled and shook my head just a bit. If nothing else, the brief interlude of banter took my mind off the remainder of my morning. Although I was prepared, I never enjoyed situations like this. So the distraction was welcome, unlike the first time we met.

“Got the planner I trust?” he asked as he looked me up and down, searching for any hint of it.

“Yes,” I replied, as I patted the soft leather of my oversized purse.

Gabe smiled and gestured towards my outfit. “Nice to see you loosening up. Showing both of your forearms and what’s this,
calves
? A bit risqué for an interview, don’t you think?”

I pursed my lips at his incessant teasing.

“Well,
you noticed,
” I replied, with a teasing tone of my own. “It must be working. Right?”

As I finished speaking, Gabe’s smile vanished from his face. His expression darkened as he eased off the elevator wall. I swallowed at the sudden change in his demeanor. Without thinking, I reached down towards my charm bracelet, rolling my fingertips over the smooth stones.

He remained silent while his eyes meandered along my body for a moment too long. Just then, the elevator door opened. Sounds of office busyness filled the sudden quiet of the elevator, providing me a bit of relief. I nodded at him and offered a polite smile.

“Nice to see you again, Gabe,” I said, trying to take the edge off the unexpected tension. “Are you… getting off here?”

Gabe shook his head and bending his arm at the elbow, he pointed upward.

“No, still got a little way to go yet.”

“Well, have a good day,” I began. “Maybe I’ll see you around the building sometime.”

“Maybe,” he replied. Just then, he made a gesture towards his wristwatch. “Well, better get moving. Don’t want to be late for that interview.”

Swallowing, I nodded. “Right.”

As I finished, I waved goodbye and readjusted the position of my purse strap before exiting the elevator. As the doors closed behind me, I rolled my eyes at the awkwardness of the encounter.

Still, I had to stay focused on the task at hand. And so, after getting off the elevator, I made my way to the reception area and then took a seat in the lobby to wait for the interview with my potential supervisor, Vice President of Lab Operations, Colin Doyle.

As I sat, I grabbed a small container of anti-bacterial gel from inside my purse. Cracking open the lid, I dabbed a bit in my palm and began to rub the cool liquid into my skin with series of small circles. After I finished, I put it away, pulled out my planner and opened it as I prepared to go over my notes.

I doubted there was anything he’d ask me about I wouldn’t be able to answer, but better safe than sorry. Right? Soon the hustle and bustle of the office faded into the periphery as my eyes traced the marks on the pages for the next several minutes.

Just then, I sensed a presence close to me and I glanced up to see a man who I presumed was Mr. Doyle standing there. I say ‘presumed’ because I’d never actually met him, only spoken to him on the phone, twice.

He was a round faced man with a body to match. From the looks of things, what once was a mighty colony of hair had staged a dramatic retreat from its territory, probably around the time his waistline had commenced an impressive counter attack.

“Fiona?” he asked, as he extended a hand in my direction.

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Mr. Doyle?”

“Mmm, hmm. And please, call me Colin. Thanks for coming in today. Are you ready?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay then, follow me,” he said, as he stepped back and gestured down the hallway. “Can I help you with anything?”

“No,” I began, shaking my head. “I’m fine. But, thank you.”

As I finished my thought, I gathered up my things and just then a sudden pang of nervous energy went straight to my stomach. Because as much as I’d wanted to make this interview solely about me, I couldn’t help but think of my grandmother. If I didn’t pull this off, I didn’t know what we were going to do. I felt the inside of my hand moisten as I wrapped my fingers tightly around my purse strap.