The Spanish Love Deception novel Chapter 17

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“No.” I rolled my eyes even though he might have been a little right.

He sort of looked like the man behind Superman’s secret identity. Not the one with the cape, the one who wore a suit, had a nine-to-five job, and was kind of … hot for a guy working in an office. Not that I’d ever admit that out loud. Not even to Rosie.

Aaron studied my face for a couple of seconds.

“I think I’m going to take it as a compliment,” he said as one of the corners of his lips bent up just the tiniest little bit.

Smug Clark Kent look-alike.

“Well, it’s not.” I reached for my mouse, clicking to open a random folder. “Thor or Captain America? That would have been a compliment. But you are not a Chris. Plus, no one cares about Superman anymore, Mr. Kent.”

Aaron seemed to think about my statement for an instant. “It sounds like you still care though.”

As I ignored that, he proceeded to walk behind me. Then, I watched him cross the office to the desk that belonged to one of the guys I shared the space with but who had obviously left hours ago. He grabbed his chair with one hand and rolled it in my direction.

&nbs

p; My arms crossed in front of my chest as he placed that chair beside mine and let his large body fall on it, making it squeak and look rather frail.

“What are you doing?” I asked him.

“You asked me that question already.” He pinned me with a bored look. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I don’t need your help, Blackford.”

He sighed. “I think I’m having another déjà vu.”

“You,” I stuttered. Then scoffed again. “I … ugh.”

“Catalina,” he said, and I hated how my name sounded on is lips in that precise moment. “You need the help. So, I’m saving us both some time because we both know you’d never ask.”

He wasn’t wrong. I would never ask Aaron for anything, not when I knew exactly what he thought about me. Personally, professionally, it didn’t matter. I had been well aware of what he thought of me all this time. I had heard him myself all those months ago even if he didn’t know that. So, no, I refused to accept anything from him. As much as that turned me into a grudge-holder too. Just like he was. I’d live with it.

Aaron leaned back and placed his hands on the chair’s armrests. The shirt strained with the motion, the change in the tension of the fabric too flattering enough for my eyes not to unconsciously drift there.

Jesus. My eyes fluttered closed for a second. I was hungry, tired from dealing with all this, betrayed by my own two eyes, and honestly simply confused at this point.

“Stop being so stubborn,” he said.

Stubborn. Why? Because I hadn’t asked for his help and I was supposed to take it when he decided to offer it?

Now, I was pissed. That was probably why I opened my mouth without thinking. “That’s why you didn’t speak up during the meeting where all this was dumped on me and then some? Because I didn’t ask for help? Because I am too stubborn to ever accept it?”

Aaron’s head reared back just slightly; he was probably shocked by my admission.