Hers by Dawn Robertson Page B

around the desk, picking up my laptop bag, and starting to get ready to leave the office after one of the longest days, ever.
    “Daniel, You and Alexander? You dated in college?” His words slice through me; I whip my head up and shoot daggers from my eyes. I can feel my face turning red, something I didn't do as often as I probably should, but I can't help it, as anger takes over my entire being.
    “Who told you that?” I yell at him across my office, and he knows a line has been crossed.
    He thinks, very carefully before he speaks. A moment passes and he reaches for the door.
    “Daniel told the board. He bragged that he left you for his wife. I'm sorry, Seven. I just thought you should know.”
    He doesn't move. He’s waiting for my reaction. His gaze never leaves mine, and I am sure he can read the grim expression on my face. Something about Levi just breaks me; I can't hide the slightest thing from him. He is my kryptonite, and it sucks balls.
    “It was a long time ago. I was over it the minute he walked out of my apartment. He was a shitty lay anyway.” I shrug it off, but I am sure Levi can tell I’m somewhat hurt. “But his actions are insubordinate, and will be immediately addressed tomorrow.”
    Levi smiles, a genuine, panty dropping, heartwarming smile. Is he happy I am going to take on Daniel?
    “Good, I hope he gets exactly what he deserves. And by the way, he was a fool to walk away from you.”
    And like that, his back is to me, and he is walking out of my door. Ninja-mind-fucking me again, something he is becoming particularly good at.
    I pick up my phone and dial Daniel's number. It rings a handful of times before he answers.
    “Daniel Alexander.”
    “Daniel, Seven. I need to see you in my office at nine tomorrow morning, and not a minute after.” I stab the end button with my finger before tossing the phone into my laptop bag. Hanging up on him didn't make me feel any better; I doubt anything would at this point. Well, maybe a fucking lobotomy? I relax slightly, thinking about the fact that I am on the verge of ruining his career, and I can feel my blood pressure starting to return to an acceptable level.
    All in good time, grasshopper.

Wednesday Morning
    I step onto the company’s private jet in black sweatpants, a pink Marilyn Monroe t-shirt, and a grey hooded zip-up sweatshirt, nothing but flip flops on my feet. My hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and I’m in travel mode. Unless I’m going on a two-hour trip, and have someone to impress, I travel like a bum. I want to be comfortable, especially when I’m going to be on a plane for six hours.
    I set my laptop case down on the seat next to mine, toward the back of the plane, and sit down. I immediately recline the seat and get ready for my motion sickness meds to kick in. All these years and I still get sick. You would think someone who grew up living in a moving house wouldn't be so screwed up by traveling.
    I close my eyes, only to be interrupted by the sound of Levi talking with the flight attendant. His voice sends a shockwave through me. I return my seat to the upright position, and notice his eyes on me.
    “You feeling okay?” he asks, moving my carry-on to the floor and sitting down next to me. He looks incredibly dapper in his custom suit, a striking difference to my extreme casual wear.
    “I'm fine. I don't travel well. Motion sickness.” I recline my seat back again.
    “I don't think I have ever seen you dressed down, Seven.” He lets out a laugh, and I decide as much as I want nothing to do with him, I love his laugh. It reminds me of a carefree child. Or maybe a teenage boy. Certainly not the businessman sitting next to me.
    “When I travel, I like comfort. I couldn't imagine being stuck on a plane for six hours in some of the clothes you have seen me in.” I poke fun at him, and myself, lightening the mood before we embark across the Atlantic.
    He leans in close before he whispers in my ear, “That lingerie from