In the elevator, silence reigned between them for several minutes, but the look of irritation was still clear on Daisy's face.
"You should fix your face it's already irritating as it is," Desmond finally broke the silence.
Rolling her eyes, Daisy didn't answer.
"I'm surprised you were working for the company I wanted to cooperate with. What a tragedy," Desmond continued. Daisy hadn't yet revealed that she was actually the owner.
"I guess I'll be seeing your petty face around," he said scornfully.
"You don't need to worry my face will be the last thing you'll be seeing. And I have to say, seeing you here was like having a dark cloud cover the sky," Daisy replied sharply.
"I guess your karma is still with you," Desmond teased.
"What are you talking about?" Daisy asked with a hint of irritation.
"I'm talking about your leg you're still limping. I thought the doctor told you to rest it for at least a week. Seems you're not only petty but stubborn," he said with mock sympathy.
"Well, as you can see, I had to come to this meeting. And why are you acting like me being like this isn't all your fault?" Daisy retorted.
"You're still blaming me? What petty behavior," Desmond said.
"Stop calling me petty," Daisy snapped, rolling her eyes again.
"Why were you acting like you didn't know me earlier?" Desmond finally asked.
"Because I don't," Daisy shot back. "And besides, meeting you was a curse. You pretended right back asking me to tell you my name. It's clear between the two of us, you're the petty one. I could see your little attempt at revenge. It was ridiculous and painful to watch."
"I don't know what you're talking about. You're delusional to think I'd waste my time on something so petty," Desmond replied with a straight, cold face.
Hearing that, Daisy just rolled her eyes again.
A few more seconds of silence passed before the elevator reached her floor.
Daisy stepped out first, limping her way into the hallway, but the sound of footsteps behind her made her turn. Desmond was still there. Turning back, she continued forward.
"Why did you come down? Isn't your office on the top floor? Or do you want to cause me more trouble?" she asked.
"This is my company, and where I go is none of your business. Besides, what trouble can I cause?" Desmond replied.
"I don't know… maybe break my other ankle, or my full leg. Just being close to you is like a curse," Daisy retorted.
"You should really watch the way you talk to me. I'm partly your boss. I'd hate for your boss to lose his contract because of you," Desmond said, a little annoyed.
"You're pathetic for threatening me like that. And you will never be my boss," Daisy shot back.
She was almost at the parking lot now, and Desmond was still following her, but she was too tired to bother arguing again.
She didn't know if it was her exhaustion or her aching ankle, but she tripped something that seemed to happen every time he was around. She knew he was bad luck, and it showed.
This time she didn't close her eyes, thinking "Mr. Jerk Face" would catch her like he usually did. But shock and pain hit her body as she realized she was already on the ground.
Looking up, she saw Desmond staring down at her with a smirk.
She knew he'd done it on purpose. It was her fault for expecting him to help there was a reason she called him a jerk, and he had just proved it.
With some effort, she pushed herself up. A hand appeared in front of her, but without looking at his face or taking it, she managed to stand and limp to her car, her ankle hurting even more than before.
Back at the company, Desmond was heading toward his office. He had seen her get into her car, her face twisted in pain.
He didn't know why he hadn't helped part of him knew she was the reason he came down in the first place. But he didn't acknowledge it, telling himself she deserved it. Still, something about the way she looked at him had left him uneasy. It was as if her hate for him had tripled.
Pushing the thought to the back of his mind, he made his way into his office and buried himself in paperwork, trying to forget the look in her eyes.