"I am Nova. You?"
I regret the moment those words leave my mouth. Damn it. Just a minute ago, I was gawking at his body like it was some meal I wanted to taste. And now… congratulations to me, who can't bear awkward silence: I just gave my name to a man who's probably thinking what kind of weirdo I am.
The city hums beneath me, and all I can wonder… jumping from the 30th floor probably wouldn't hurt as much as this embarrassment, right?
"Aaron."
My heart jumps the moment he says his name. Low, deep, a natural hum that most men try to fake to appear alpha, masculine… but he doesn't. It's effortless.
"Aaron," I whisper under my breath, tasting his name at the tip of my tongue.
I look up at him again. Trying my best not to look down from his eyes, but those sharp, cold, detached, yet raw arctic-blue eyes don't help much.
I hate handsome guys. I despise men who know they're handsome and worth gawking over.
I keep my tone calm. Years of practice.
"You work here?" I ask again. His eyes flicker something I can't explain.
He nods. "Yeah. You're new, aren't you?" Not a question, more a statement, confirming what he already knows.
Is it that obvious that I'm new? I glance down at the last four slices of pizza and bite the inside of my cheek, debating my next move.
If I act like myself, I'd turn around and just continue eating like it's my last meal.
If I follow what my social-butterfly self told me so I don't mess up my corporate life… always be bright, happy, and idiot Nova. I know I want to hide in my cocoon, but I also want to survive corporate life. Get your anti-social ass out, and if you have food, don't obsess over it like it's your child.
I decide to go with my best friend's advice—mine always lands me in trouble anyway.
"Wanna grab a bite? Better company than eating alone," I say, keeping my body relaxed and open.
He looks at me… then back at my pizza box, sitting on my lap like a treasured possession. My shoulders stiffen. Suddenly, I'm way too conscious of how I look. Handsome men always bring trouble.
"Thanks for the offer, but no." He doesn't give me the satisfaction of sharing my possession with a handsome-looking guy.
I bite back the urge to roll my eyes. Nope. Be likeable. Remember how many times you nearly got kicked out of your previous workplace for offending the wrong person. Though he's in a simple white shirt and black pants, his posture and subtle arrogance are lethal—the kind that comes from knowing exactly where you stand and what you can get away with without moving a muscle.
I nod. "Understood, Aaron."
I turn back to my pizza. I hear a chair scrape on the marble floor, cloth rustle, metal click. Soon, strong, sharp cigarette smoke fills the air. Though it's an open terrace—and though I used to be a chain smoker myself—I feel the familiar urge to inhale, to take a drag and fill my lungs.
"Which department are you in?" Aaron breaks the silence that's been dragging between us.
I'm on my fourth slice, wiping cheese from the corner of my lips as I turn slightly to face him. Water under my feet suddenly feels hot. Huh? Hot? Wasn't it icy cold? I shrug, shaking off my delusion. Time for networking.
"Associate at M&A. Two years at Roy & Charles as an analyst." Yes, I may look like an uneducated, problematic kid trying to act adult thanks to my Asian genes and skincare, but I'm smart.
He seems a bit amused by my experience, takes a long drag, holding it in for a moment. His legs crossed, coat abandoned on the side chair. Focus. Focus. Focus.
Don't look at those viney forearms. Not the Adam's apple. Not those lips—too soft, too tempting.
I shove the rest of the pizza into my mouth. God, stop it.
Who am I kidding? My heart and stomach have been doing tango ever since I became conscious of his presence. Beauty-starved? Lust-stricken? Well, he is more than just handsome.
Never mind. Repetition. Back to networking.
"So, you were an investment banker. That explains—" He nods to himself.
"Explains what?" I frown.
His eyes on me seem amused, yet bored. The new cigarette rests between his lips as he lights it. Fingers long, thick, rough from lifting weight, nails meticulously clean.
"Confident enough to take off your shoes and dip your leg in water where overwhelmed people throw up… release body fluid," his eyes fall to my feet. "They don't clean the pool daily. Likely some DNA is still there."
I hear nothing. Look at my feet. Then back at the water. Too clean… too innocent.
I jerk back, clutching my pizza box like it's my lifeline.
"Ewww, who the—" I cover my mouth, stomach twisting in disgust. My entire body feels like someone just threw me in filthy water.
Aaron watches with pure amusement, water bottle now in hand.
"Need some help?" he asks, grin threatening to break free, but he holds it back, almost like a favor.
I grit my teeth. Damn it. Handsome or not. Men are just men. Irritating creatures full of trouble.
I press a tight smile. Toes curling. Still don't give in.
"No, thanks."
He nods, puts the bottle down. "If you enjoy, I won't stop you."
This little perk. Despite my best attempt to hide my inner demon, looking at the playful, relaxed grin on his lips does what no previous VP ever could.
"You surely grin a lot for someone who looks like a failed lab experiment," I keep my tone neutral, confident, as if I'm not calling the most handsome man I've ever seen a failed lab rat.
His grin drops. Shoulders stiffen. He blinks hard, slow. Arrogance replaced by disbelief. Is she even joking?
Of course I am. But with enough forbidden confidence to make anyone question themselves.
"You just called me… ugly?" His eyes widen, horror etched in disbelief.
I raise an eyebrow, resting my expression like a bad bitch.
"I did."
A scoff leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, inhales sharply.
And the look he gives me… I've just made an enemy on my first day.
As if I give a fuck. He isn't someone who can ruin my corporate life. He doesn't even look older than thirty. Not a VP or senior manager. Probably marketing, sales, or manufacturing.
"You surely don't know what you're talking about," his voice chilling, carrying an edge of danger.
Not enough to break my confidence.
"I know exactly what I'm saying. If you think the DNA on my feet is disgusting," I smirk, "why not check your own reflection? Maybe you've got something even worse."
His eyes widen. Lamp light reflects in his irises, pupils dilating. Jaw clenches. Tongue pokes inner cheek. Finger crushes the cigarette bud, now ashy.
A familiar, pleasant feeling—defeating an arrogant, handsome man who thinks the world orbits around him—makes my miserable life feel slightly better. Enough to forget the disgusting water.
Aaron stands, eyes glaring, half irritated, half challenged.
I give him an amused smile, watching how fast the table flips.
He crushes the cigarette underfoot. "Nova, I will remember that name."
My name from his lips, carrying threat and war, should make me step back or fear… but forget fear.
I find it exciting how he looks angry, amused, indulged.
"Sure, Aaron."
Damn you, Nova Celestia, you are such a whore for a guy like Aaron who can somehow manage to anger and excite you all at the same time.