Collateral Damage |+18|

That girl is a disaster.

That girl is a disaster.

Matheo.

Deep blue eyes stare at me and for a brief, very short moment, I freeze, feeling an unfamiliar tug inside me that I get rid of in a heartbeat.

This girl is undressing, right in front of me.

What the f**k?

"s**t" she says, the sound coming out more air than voice, but I read her lips, to which I raise an eyebrow at her with what I hope is disdain. With that simple gesture, she seems to snap out of her stupor.

And it makes things worse.

I watch silently as she tries to pull her dress back down, only to have the garment tangle in her hair and shoulders, covering her face with the fabric and making the task that much more difficult. She blindly swings her arms above her head with such desperation that I fear she will fall to the floor from her clumsy actions.

Jesus, she looks like a chicken running from her death.

I stand up and move closer, which she seems to sense, for more desperate becomes her futile attempt to leave her clothes in place.

I ignore her nearly naked body and concentrate on solving the predicament she has gotten us into, but she is moving so much, desperate to escape the fabric of her dress that has her cornered, that it makes the task much more complicated than it should be.

This girl turns a simply mundane and easy action into the most difficult and dangerous challenge of all time.

"Hold still" I growl at her, grabbing her by the shoulders to leave her in front of me.

Her face still covered by the problematic dress moves in all directions, trying to locate my voice.

I sigh and pull the fabric down her body, revealing her flushed face adorned by blonde curls that make her a bigger mess than the situation already warrants.

"This is not the bathroom".

I feel my frown deepen at her words.

No s**t, Sherlock.

I keep the sarcasm to myself and just ask a simple "Who are you?"

She stares at me, her eyes huge, until she says a strangled: "Coffee".

"What?"

"I'm allergic to coffee... Very allergic".

I feel my own eyes widen as I comprehend, looking at the stain on her chest and the unrecognizable smell of the drink on her dress.

Oh, s**t.

I grab her by the wrist and drag her all over my office, moving on instinct as I unceremoniously, and inside my personal bathroom, pull her dress off over her head and shove her under the shower, turning on the faucet to let the cold water pour over her body.

She doesn't scream, just closes her eyes and shivers under the shower, wrapping her thin arms around her body.

For some reason, I freeze, staring at her with a suddenly dry mouth.

Fuck.

"God, it's cold," she says and just opens her eyes, looking at me almost sulking and asking, "Privacy?"

"Privacy?" The word comes out of me like a thunderclap and I feel my blood is on fire, but from rage. "You come into my office, get naked and invade my space and tranquility, forcing me to save your life in the process, and the first thing you do is ask me for privacy?"

"I'm almost naked!" She yells at me.

"Well, you did that".

"I'm sure the second time, you undressed me".

I'm losing my patience.

"How about you better give me an apology and a f*****g explanation?" I tell her, turning around as I reach for one of my T-shirts in one of the cabinets.

When I turn around, she's already turned off the shower and is wrapping a towel around herself.

My towel.

I throw the T-shirt at her head, to which she sends me a dirty look again.

In what f*****g parallel world does she think she can be angry, when the only one angry should be me?

I'm the wronged one here, not her.

"Turn around" she orders me, the smart ass.

"Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?"

"I have to take off my wet underwear, can you give me some privacy, at least for that, damn you?"

By sheer miracle I don't strangle her with my hands like a chick, by sheer f*****g miracle.

The balls on this girl, Jesus.

I take a deep breath and thinking of the consequences if I commit murder, I turn around. "Start talking" I growl over my shoulder.

"Don't look!"

"I'm not looking at anything!"

I've known her less than five minutes, but I swear to God, no one has ever gotten under my skin so easily. It sets my blood on fire, driving me out of my mind. I've lost count of the times I've cursed and raised my voice. This tiny girl is a walking disaster and I want to know why the hell she decided to do her exhibitionist act in my office.

I listen as fabric falls to the floor and for one hell of a second I see, through the mirror, the silhouette of her waist and the outline of a bare chest as she runs my shirt down her body. I look away immediately, ignoring my body's reaction to her nakedness.

Damn, that's all I need.

"Today is my first day and I've done nothing but mess it up. I'm supposed to go unnoticed, but no, like the disaster magnet that I am... she seems to be talking to herself, but I linger on her first words, ignoring the rest.

Oh, no.

Oh, no no no no no no.

"Your first day?" I ask and even I can feel the stiffness in my voice.

"Yes" she murmurs and I turn around when she indicates that I can do it. And for the first time within the last few disastrous minutes, I feel her look at me, really look at me and recognize me.

She recognizes me.

I look back at her, clenching my jaw tightly because of how f****d up the situation is.

"Oh God, you're..." she whispers, shocked.

"Matheo Slade," I tell her, watching her face change color. "Your boss".

And then she passes out in my bathroom.

Oh, s**t.

[...]

With my hands on my hips, I look at her there, unconscious on my couch, looking so angelic in all her innocent beauty.

What a f*****g delusion.

That girl is as angelic as I am saintly: not a cell in my body.

"Who dared to hire her?" I ask Kacey, who is behind me, holding the clothes and the ointment I asked her to bring a few moments ago.

"You, sir".

"Me?"

"Yes, sir," Kacey says in a whisper. "She's the new girl in the design department. You said that her résumé, her college grades, and the teachers' recommendations made her the perfect girl for the job".

Perfect.

God, she's not perfect.

She's a mess.

But I remember her; Defne Sinclair. Her grades were impeccable, plus she had a full scholarship to an Ivy League college. On paper, she was perfect. Now, in front of me, nearly naked and wearing my t-shirt, she looks like a torment to my sanity.

"Do you want me to wake her up, sir?"

"No" I deny, still staring at the mess on my couch. Why the hell can't I stop staring at her? "Attend the meeting I had scheduled, then I'll check your notes for an update".

"Sir... "

"Do it, Kacey" I look over my shoulder at her, giving her the order.

She looks scared, staring at Defne with fear in her eyes. I fear that she thinks the moment she leaves us alone, I will murder her. It's a laughable thought, but it makes me ponder the expression I must have on my face for Kacey not to want to leave me alone with her.

My secretary sends one last worried look at Defne and finally exits, leaving me alone with her.

I move quickly to the first aid kit and grab a bottle of alcohol. Leaning over to her, I open it and move the liquid under her nose, waiting for it to wake her up. Defne at first opens her eyes slowly, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, almost bewildered. It's when her eyes meet mine that she hops on the couch, knocking the bottle from my hands which she tips over onto me, bathing me in alcohol.

"Oh, God..."

We stare at each other, her with one hand covering her mouth.

Me controlling myself from reaching for her throat.

"I don't... I don't..."

"You're a walking disaster" I just say before standing up as I roughly unbutton my shirt.

"This isn't right," he whispers, staring at my bare chest.

I snort.

"Oh, now you have modesty?"

I walk into the bathroom and emerge with a fresh t-shirt on. Defne is now sitting on the couch, looking around with confused eyes. Then she looks sharply down at her chest, where the coffee had stained her skin.

"Here" I give her the ointment I sent her to buy. "You broke out a little bit, besides the coffee was hot".

"Did you check me?" She looks indignant, again, as if she were the one who was wronged and not me.

The nerve.

"Look, Defne..." I breathe through my nose, controlling my s**t. "Go get changed".

"But..."

"Go change" I speak to her loud and clear, to which she flinches, as if my command shocks her.

I walk over to the big window and stand there, ignoring her as I wait for her to obey me, deciding what to do with her. She hasn't even been there a day and she's already f****d up in epic measures. What will things be like in a month's time? I shudder at the thought.

Plus, it shocks me, irritates me how easily she gets under my skin, getting on my nerves. I've never felt this way about anyone before. This imperious need to shake her every time she gets on my nerves is maddening.

"I was just coming to sign the last clauses of the contract, I mistook his office for the bathroom when I spilled coffee on myself. Are you going to fire me for that?" she asks behind me.

I turn to look at her to find her already dressed in the dress Kacey has gotten her.

I look away from her silhouette and stare into her eyes, but I don't know what's worse, her shapely body in that tight dress or her blue eyes, so deep I feel like I'm drowning in them.

I turn around and turn my back to her again, looking better towards the city.

"You are on probation" I manage to say.

"But I haven't done anything wrong".

You see?

I want to shake her into rationality in that brain of hers that has a few loose nuts.

"Beat it, Defne".

"But..."

"Get out before I fire you".

And it's only until I hear the door close behind me that I can breathe easy again.

[...]

Sebastian laughs in front of me, setting my nerves on edge.

"What's the joke?"

"That girl blew your mind, man".

"That girl is a mess" I mumble "I don't know why I didn't fire her".

"She got under your skin," he says mockingly. "Look at you, the flawless and immovable Matheo Slade has finally come out of his perfect facade".

"I'm not out of anything, I'm fine".

He points to the strong grip of my hands on my drink, pointing out the obvious.

"What is it about her that you dislike so much?" He asks "Or is it that you don't dislike her at all? A few minutes with her and look at you, I finally see emotions in you that aren't stoic calm".

I sip what's left of my non-alcoholic drink and it's the first time since I've been a teenager that I've been tempted to drink liquor. I shake my head, pushing the feeling away. There's a part inside me that is aware that the discomfort I feel is infused with something stronger, a liquid desire and burning under my skin that I've never felt before. But beyond that, I know that what pisses me off the most is that I am feeling. She makes me feel. Whether it's rage or inexplicable urges to forcefully tighten the screws on her, but she makes me feel something. And I hate it.

Feeling takes me away from the perfect facade I've built, takes me away from who I want to be and turns me into the same little boy who almost ruined his own life and the lives of his entire family.

The slightest hint of a flaw is something I can't afford, not after screw things up like I did. I don't have the freedom to make mistakes, I burned those cards when I was young, I burned them for the rest of my life. I've been clinging to an iron grip for over a decade now that keeps me on the right path, moving towards the goals I have outlined. A girl can't change that. I refuse to allow it.

"I need to have s*x" I decide at last.

"That's new" Sebastian says. "But I suspected that's why we were here. You want to get it out of your system with someone else, huh?"

"I don't want to get anyone out of my system, it's just been too long, that's all".

Deep down I know that my words are nothing but lies. I have no desire to sleep with anyone else, I have not the slightest desire to look for a hookup for tonight and, sure as hell, I don't desire another woman. Which f***s me up, pisses me off in a maddening way. Because it can't be that this disaster of a girl has caught me so easily, with a single glance. And it's just that despite how easily she got under my skin and how easy it is to get mad at her, I can't stop thinking about her eyes, the silhouette of her naked body and that disastrous blonde hair that I desperately want to touch with my fingers.

Fuck, Maheo.

"Yeah, right" then he adds quietly. "Bee is going to be entertained by all this".

"Speaking of Bee, shouldn't you be at home taking care of your pregnant wife?"

"Don't mention it, the damned wife kicked me out of the house" he looks unhappy when he continues: "Apparently, I was being a very intense husband. She said she needed a night off from me.

I shake my head, a little amused by his situation.

Bee has Sebastian in the palm of her hand. His devotion to her reminds me of my father's devotion to my mother, and I guess that's the reason I always feel comfortable with them. They remind me of home after so many years away, Be and Sebastian bring me the warmth and familiarity I miss from England.

"Matheo, if you really want someone to warm your bed tonight, you should have at least trimmed that beard," he tells me. "You look scary".

That's the goal, my scruffy beard is the only thing in my life that isn't perfectly neat. It keeps people away, which saves me a hell of a lot of trouble. But tonight, when I want to pull a blonde head out of my head, the beard isn't playing in my favor.

After a few more drinks, Sebastian returns home with his wife and I stand there, drinking more non-alcoholic beverages as I look around disinterestedly, searching for my hookup tonight.

I haven't had s*x in so long, probably more months than I can remember, that I attribute my reaction to Defne to that. It's not possible for a twenty-three-year-old girl who also happens to be my employee to put me off like this. Defne represents everything that would be wrong with my life. Hell, she's younger than my sister Lia. I'm a thirty-seven year old man who can easily get any woman he wants, a woman who isn't a walking disaster and a magnet for chaos.

But the night passes slowly and my interest in every beautiful woman in the place is so nil that I know the problem is not lack of s*x.

When I return alone to my building and lie in my bed, in the solitude of my apartment, I am able to accept against my will that it is not s*x that I want.

No.

It's the girl I want.

Fuck, Matheo.