His Kryptonite

Chapter 17

Laila's POV

Michael's been avoiding me. I can sense it. He's still been coming over to the firm several times this week, just like before, but I can tell by the way he walks and the routes he takes that he's deliberately steering clear of me. He glances my way, but his eyes quickly dart in another direction. He doesn't hold my gaze. Sometimes he gives me a nod, nothing more. There's no more hostility like before, just unmistakable and blatant avoidance.

In a way, I understand. Since last Saturday, things have gotten weird between us, confusing. I used to think about him purely for the physical connection, but now I catch myself pondering his deep brown eyes, his captivating smile, and the gentleness that lies beneath his cold exterior. The way he kisses me as if I'm his, the actions he takes that clearly show he cares about me and sees me as more than just a casual fling. I could have reached out to him, gone after him, but I didn't because the awkwardness is mutual. I haven't gone out of my way to cross paths with him this week either.

But it's Friday now, just one day short of a whole week since Michael and I last hooked up at his nightclub. That night keeps replaying in my mind, on an endless loop. Not only because of what went down with Lucas, but for everything else too.

I'm not exactly sure what we're doing, but a whole week without getting intimate with Michael, and I'll be honest: I'm going out of my mind. We don't need to have all the answers, we can keep it casual and enjoyable. Or, to put it another way, I'm craving him like crazy and I need him badly.

So, when I spot him strolling into the office, I'm determined not to let him slip away this time and put an end to this game of avoidance we've been playing.

He enters the conference room, as usual, and I position myself precisely at the moment when Papà leaves, like clockwork. Honestly, I don't get why my father never prepares all the documents in advance to be signed. I'll never work like him in that regard. But today, I'm grateful for his old-fashioned ways because it gives me ample time to seduce Michael.

I step into the conference room, and Michael glances up from his cellphone, his expression slightly tense, understandably so, given the avoidance game we've been playing.

I flash a grin. "Hey!"

"What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone monotonous, as he quickly diverts his gaze back to his phone.

He can pretend all he wants, but just like me, I know he felt that undeniable surge of electricity fill the room as soon as we found ourselves in the same space.

"I'm doing great, thanks! And how about you?" I reply sarcastically, deliberately brushing past him, grazing his arm with my body.

He looks at me, clearly irritated. "That wasn't my question."

"We call that being civil," I retort, narrowing my eyes.

I open a top cabinet, reaching for the glass farthest away, fully aware that my skirt is sliding up my thighs with the movement, tempting him to admire the view. And I guess he couldn't resist because he moves up behind me, deliberately pressing himself against me, one hand on my waist, the other reaching for the glass. The sensation of his body against mine sends shivers down my spine, and it's then that I realize just how starved I've been for his touch.

But the fleeting moment is short-lived as he swiftly disengages from me, placing the glass on the counter before returning to his seat. "You're so damn short," he remarks.

"Put some inches in me, then," I retort, turning around and leaning against the counter. He shoots me a dark glance, and I can't help but grin.

"What do you want?" he asks, his impatience growing evident, clearly irritated with my playful antics.

"Nothing. You just seem tense, so I thought I'd keep you company. I want you to know that I'm here for you, with open arms, open legs, and open mouth," I say, winking at him.

He shakes his head while readjusting himself in the chair. He glances at me, and I catch a hint of subtle amusement flickering in his eyes. "How many times have I told you to stop running your mouth with me?" he demands.

"I feel like by now, you should realize it's not an option with me. If I ever get murdered, take comfort in knowing that I'll have run my mouth until the bitter end, probably giving my assassin a headache."

"No one's going to murder you. Over my dead body," he retorts reflexively, his words catching me off guard and momentarily throwing me off my game.

I stride to the table, with him perched at the head, and I settle into a seat beside him. I tap my perfectly manicured dark red nails on the table, noticing his annoyed expression as his eyes briefly flicker towards them.

"You know, Michael, it feels like you've been ignoring me lately," I say, biting my lower lip.

"Doing the same thing you're doing," he replies casually, crossing his arms.

"Oh, it's not the same. Sometimes, I ignore you to assert control because, truth be told, I adore you and I can't keep my distance."

He looks up at me, and I hold his gaze. The intensity between us grows, and for the first time, it's me who breaks him as he averts his eyes. "I swear to God, Laila..." he trails off, his voice filled with desire. I've successfully led him right where I want him. But now, I'm curious to see what he'll do.

Beneath the table, I press my high-heeled shoe against his leg, unable to resist the temptation. Michael sits up straighter in his chair, reaches into his pocket, and retrieves his car keys. "Wait for me in my car," he says, sliding the keys towards me. A smile tugs at my lips as I take the keys into my hand, just as my father enters the conference room.

"Hey, Laila," he exclaims enthusiastically.

My face flushes as I swiftly transition from the horny girl persona to that of an innocent angel. "Hey, Papà. I was just on my way out," I say, rising from my seat and quickly leaving the room.

With excitement coursing through my veins, I step into the elevator and exit the building. I follow Michael's instructions precisely, anxiously waiting for him in his car.

When I spot him arriving several minutes later, my heart pounds in my chest. He slides into the driver's seat without uttering a word. He starts the engine, and as we drive towards an alley, I can sense that he's about to fulfill my desires.

And fulfill them he does. He commands me to maintain eye contact throughout, threatening to stop if I dare to look away. He makes me beg for it, pushing me to the edge, until I see flashing white lights in front of my eyes, wondering if I've entered paradise.