AXEL (The Beckett Boys, Book Eight) Page 17

  I work my way to the chair and gently pull it away from the desk. My fingers thread together in a ball on my lap. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” I say, stammering a little. Get it together, Liv. “You were right.” At this, he lifts his head a little.

  “Go on,” he murmurs.

  “I have a lot to learn, and instead of graciously accepting the position you offered, I was rude. Offensive.”

  “I’ve got tough skin,” he says, now commanding me with his cool glare once more.

  I blink, as if to reset the direction of my naughty thoughts. Just the word “skin” ignites a fire in my belly that makes me want to reach out and touch his, to run my fingers along his sinewy muscles. The tension intensifies, almost blinding. I should shrivel in nervousness, but instead, I’m empowered by the way he stares at me. Like he could swallow me with one gulp.

  “If the position is still available, I’d like to accept.”

  He gives me a wolfish grin. “May I ask why the change of heart?”

  I bite on my lower lip. Mason Wood expects complete honesty, but I’m not ready to admit the truth—that I’m totally desperate, facing the abyss of professional and financial ruin. I lower my gaze. “After some careful thought, I realize that a job at Daylight Holdings is an excellent opportunity to eventually further my career.”

  Mason nods. “Good. I’m prepared to re-offer you the position…”

  My relief begins to unravel.

  “But the conditions have changed.”

  Snap.

  My stomach clenches. “What do you mean?”

  “You had an opportunity to make a decision yesterday,” he says, standing up and circling me slowly, looking down on me as he walks. “But you didn’t have the guts to pull the trigger. If you’d been trading, the market would have punished you for being so indecisive.” He stops in front of me, so close I can almost feel his touch. My body lights up like it’s on fire. “Instead, I will play the role of the market—and you will be punished.”

  A lump swells in my chest. “Punished?”

  “Punished,” he repeats. There’s a dangerous tone to his voice that makes my toes curl into my heels. “Take off your clothes, Miss Landers.”

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