An hour later, I finally stop smiling. Carson introduced me to so many people my face felt like it was going to fall off if I smile at anyone else. I walk around, looking for something to eat and drink. I haven't had anything in my stomach since I arrived. While I'm sipping my wine, someone startles me and I almost pour my drink on myself.

"Do you have a death wish?" Mr. Crawford asks.

We're away from the party, so no one can see or hear us. I left the crowd to enjoy some time alone, but I think I made a mistake. Mr. Crawford looks like he wants to kill me, and there's no one here to save me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, taking a step away from him. His close proximity scares me right now.

"You think I didn't see you out there, getting to know all the board of directors? And to make it worse, you made sure to introduce yourself as my grandfather's goddaughter."

"Mr. Crawford, I didn't know the people your grandfather introduced me to were members of the board. He only introduced me as his goddaughter because people might get the wrong idea if he said I'm his friend."

Before Carson introduced me around, he told me he was going to say I'm his goddaughter to prevent people from thinking I'm his younger lover. If only he knew it'd make his grandson irate.

"Wow. You're blaming my grandfather now. Would you stop lying?" he demands, stepping closer to me. Why does he step up into my space when he's angry with me? It's like he knows being close to him scares me. He towers over me, his height making me more afraid of him when he's close.

"Mr. Crawford, I'm not lying. You can ask your grandfather," I say, avoiding eye contact with him. He's scaring the shit out of me. He looks like he wants to rip my head off right now.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," he says, grabbing my arms to get my attention. I accidentally spill my wine on his shirt.

I wonder if God hates me because if Mr. Crawford's anger could be described on a scale of 1-10 from when he first started speaking to now, I'd put him at 100 because of what happens next.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Crawford," I say, trying to clean the wine stain off his shirt.

To make matters worse, I was drinking red wine, at an all-white party. They didn't serve red wine, but I felt like drinking a glass, so I asked Kassie to pour me one of Mr. Crawford's special wines. It was one of the reasons I was away from the crowd.

While I'm unsuccessfully attempting to clean the wine stain from Mr. Crawford's white shirt, which might cost more than my life right now, I feel something amazing on the tips of my fingers. Mr. Crawford's abs. Unconsciously, I start tracing his abs one at a time with the tip of my finger. He has eight abs, and they're as hard as a rock. I can feel myself getting hot the more I touch them. How can someone be so sexy?

"What the hell are you doing?" Mr. Crawford's voice booms loud in my ears, and my hand freezes. I quickly move back and try to use my hair to hide my cheeks. They must be beet red with my embarrassment right now.

"I'm sorry."

"Say that one more time, and so help me, God, I'll do something that'll make you regret ever meeting me," Mr. Crawford says, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

What would he do to me? Is he going to kill me? Mr. Crawford doesn't seem the type of man who could take a life. So what could he do that'd make me regret meeting him? I don't say a word so as not to make him angrier than he already is.

"I'll deal with you on Monday. I need to go change my shirt," he says and walks away from me.

Thank God! I couldn't bear to be in his presence any longer. It was so hard not to look at the abs visible through his shirt because of the wine stain. Mr. Crawford is an angry man, and has severe reservations toward me, but he is one sexy man.

***

Days have passed since Carson's party. Mr. Crawford lets goddaughter and wine spilling debacle go. I was so happy when he came to work on Monday and acted like I didn't exist the whole day. This entire week's been good for me because Mr. Crawford's hardly around the office. I don't know where he goes, but he should continue going there.

I'm on my way to meet up with Evan for lunch. I haven't seen him since Saturday night. It only takes me a few minutes to arrive at the restaurant. Evan didn't want to stress me, so he picked a restaurant close to the office to meet with me. I step inside and look around for him. I see him sitting by the window and using his phone, so he hasn't seen me yet. I walk over and take my seat opposite him.

"Hi, Eleanor. I didn't see you walk in," Evan says, dropping his phone on the table.

"How could you when your concentration was on your phone?"

"Sorry. I was replying to some work emails."

"It's fine. I use my phone a lot too. How are you?" I ask, perusing the menu for something to order. The prices of the food here make my eyes want to fall out of their socket. I should've asked him to pick somewhere cheap.

"I'm good, and don't worry about the price. I'm paying," he says, smiling.

"You don't have to pay," I tell him, even though I can't afford the food here. I don't want to make Evan pay for me.

"I should pay since I picked the restaurant."

"You don't have to."

"Eleanor, you've known me, for what, five years now? You still think you can talk me out of paying for your food," Evan says with a raised brow.

"Thank you," I say, blushing. I'm a little embarrassed he immediately knew the food price was too high for me, but I don't feel insulted he offered to pay. I don't know why I tried to convince him. I know him well enough to know he'd never allow me to pay for myself at a restaurant.

"You're always welcome. How are you and everything at work?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

"Yes, of course. Why would you even ask that?"

"Because my boss is your cousin, and you might not like what I'll say about work."

"I understand. But you can be honest with me," Evan says and waves a waiter to our table.

"Alright. I hate my job because of your cousin," I say and tell the waiter what I would like to order. I make sure not to order anything too expensive. I might not be paying, but I don't want to order food like a freeloader.

"I'm not surprised," Evan says, chuckling.

"Why>" I ask, shocked.

"He's my cousin. I know him."

"Yeah, that's true, and are you guys close?" I ask, curious to know about the relationship between them.

"Not really. Why do you ask?"

"I was hoping if you guys were close, you might know why he hates me so much. I know he doubts my intentions as to why I'm working for him, but I feel he has other reasons I don't know about."

"I wish I knew, but I don't. Sorry."

"It's fine. I just hope with time he'll see me for who I really am."

"I hope so too."

Evan and I talk about other things while eating. I lose track of time and get back to the office late, praying Mr. Crawford doesn't notice.

I arrive on my floor after taking the elevator upstairs, my heart beating loudly against my chest. This week has been going fine so far. I'm desperate not to ruin it. I arrive at my desk, and I instantly realize the Lord is not on my side today.

"Where have you been, Eleanor?" Mr. Crawford asks, fuming with anger. He checks his wristwatch. "Lunch break was over an hour ago. Why're you just coming back now?"

"I lost track of time," I say, wishing I used a better choice of words because I seem to set him off, not helping my situation.

"You lost track of time," he says, releasing a dark chuckle. A cold shiver runs down my spine. He scares the shit out of me when he laughs like that. "It's like you wake up every day and find new ways to annoy me. I don't understand what kind of woman you are," he says and looks me up and down from head to toe, disgust written all over his face. I look at myself, wondering if I look disgusting. I don't think I do, but it hurts a little, seeing him look at me like that.

"I apologize, sir, it won't happen again," I remember this time not to say the word sorry. I've had enough bad experiences from saying it.

"Keep your apology to yourself and come to my office. You've got a lot of work to do," he says, walking to his office.

"Okay, sir," I say, following him.