Chapter 3 An alien invasion could kill the internet

Craft didn't take his attention away from his screen. "Thanks, Leslie. You can head home for the day." His dismissal was curt, and the young intern attempted not to look crushed. She looked well put-together, but that still didn't mean anything. I'd seen many girls leave his office still in one piece, but sporting the glow one can only get from an orgasm.

Leslie waited for Mr. Craft to turn and acknowledge her leaving, but he never took his focus from his screen. She lifted her chin as she walked by me, her emerald green eyes sparkling as if she was in a higher place than I was. I gave her as pleasant of a smile as I could in passing.

Craft rolled in his chair to a stack of papers, thumbing through them while I stood like a moron in the threshold of his office.

"Are you ready to go over the presentation for tomorrow?" I finally asked, stepping into his room and directly across from his shiny black desk.

His jacket was off and draped over his chair. One hand was on his forehead while the other spun a pen in between his fingers. He was focused yet seemed distracted at the same time. The product that styled his hair perfectly was losing its mold. By the way his hand moved from his forehead and through his dark locks to the back of his neck was the culprit. That or Leslie grabbed a hold of it while he fucked her.

I wouldn't be surprised if he screwed her while I was creating that damn power point presentation.

"Yes, I am. Close the door and take a seat at my conference table." His response was assertive, and I obeyed. I needed to work on standing up for myself. Maybe that was why he kept me around, because I took his shit without putting up a fight.

He stretched from his seat at his desk, tossing his pen on a stack of papers in the corner. Grabbing his laptop, he brought it to the table, pulling out a chair for me to sit down. It was a gesture I wasn't used to in my everyday life. I hadn't had a boyfriend who was as cordial like Craft. He always opened the door, pulled out chairs, let women go first. He was obnoxiously chivalrous, yet his brutal honesty and bluntness ruined his manners.

I didn't walk toward him until his eyes found mine. Eye contact wasn't his thing, at least not with me. He rarely met my gaze. The fact I always made him look at me irritated him. I enjoyed getting under his skin when I could.

His jaw was tense while he waited for me to sit down.

Setting my iPad and USB port down on the table, I took a seat, my breath hitching when he pushed my chair under the table with me in it.

"We don't have all day," he grumbled in reference to my timid approach.

"I understand," I sighed, shoving my USB port into his laptop.

I could see his eye roll at side glance. "I asked you to save the PowerPoint in a google doc."

"I did, but I like to have a backup in case something goes wrong."

His lips went tight. "Technology doesn't fail us, it's the user who creates the issues."

Such a pompous asshole.

"I don't create issues, I simply prefer to be prepared in all possible scenarios."

His brows narrowed, but he didn't comment on my attitude. "Issues? What kind of issues would you expect for us to come across?"

"Oh, I don't know, the internet going down?" I couldn't contain my sarcasm.

"That's why I have personal hotspots, for the rare occasion the internet goes down."

I rose a brow at him. "What if the weather is bad? Everyone knows the internet goes flaky in a rainstorm. Especially with cell phones."

His lip twitched. "I've never had issues. Maybe you should change your cell phone provider."

"What if an alien invasion comes in and zaps out all of the technology?"

He rested his hand on his chin when he looked at me. "If that outrageous prediction happens, we wouldn't be able to access a computer at all."

My forehead wrinkled. I hated when he was right. "Why does it matter? As long as we're prepared it shouldn't be an issue."

"Well, then by all means, use your dying technology and pull up the presentation."

Containing my glare, I quickly inserted the port and pulled up the document.

He stayed silent while I worked, situating myself to take notes on my iPad and make changes where it was necessary.

When I was ready, I noticed he was watching me intently, his hard exterior that usually held a scowl wasn't there. Relaxed facial expressions made him all the more attractive.

I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, the awkwardness of him staring at me made me uncomfortable. "Did you want to get started?"

Our interactions were eerily quiet at first, but soon picked up with each slide, having me add and take away information to his approval. He never gave compliments or asked for my opinion, I merely sat at the screen, adjusting the slides to his perfection.

After two hours of sitting in that room while he pondered if my slide creations were up to par, we were nearly done, and my stomach growled.

My body froze and I flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry," I mumbled, standing from my chair and smoothing over my skirt.

"Didn't know typing was so exerting," he deadpanned, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head.

"I haven't eaten anything since this morning. Typically I eat at noon, but since you wanted to go over the slides, I skipped."

He didn't have a response, and I was too nervous to look over my shoulder to see his reaction. I shouldn't have snipped at him, but I was hungry, and normally became cranky and short on an empty stomach.

"Do you have low blood sugar or something?"

His sarcasm wasn't amusing. "What if I did?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I'd assume you'd speak up and say you needed to eat something, or take an insulin shot."

It took all of me to hold my jaw in place from his insensitivity. The sparkle in his eye dared me to say something, but I kept my mouth shut.

Turning back to the laptop, I stretched my back, well aware of how long I'd been sitting in that damn chair. I'd need to go for a run after work today. That'd help loosen me up some, and it would help to release some steam from the added irritation Craft had caused.

Taking a deep breath, I leaned forward while standing and continued to the last slide. "What do you think about this one? It's your closer, so it's important to..." My breath hitched.

A gentle pressure caressed down my spine to my lower back. Did something fall on me? Did a large spider propel from the ceiling, cautiously creeping along my dress?

I peeked over my shoulder. Mr. Craft was no longer sitting but standing behind me, his focus away from the computer screen and on my lower back.