My Clothes Were Revealing?!

ALANA

All I could do was laugh. I sounded like a maniac but whatever. Did he seriously just say what I think he said? If yes, then clearly, I had to teach him some manners.

Striding towards him—his desk, to be specific; he stood right behind it—I dropped the stupid tray in front of him, uncaring of the slight spill. Knight observed me with narrowed eyes. Angry, narrowed eyes.

I crossed my arms like a total snob. "Excuse me?"

Then, oh-so-slowly, he started to round the table. Slightly staggered under his intense gaze, I stumbled back until my hip met harshly with the corner of a table. Unwillingly, I let out a hiss, rubbing what was surely going to be sore in a few minutes.

Knight's brows pulled down and he halted a few steps away from me, extending a hand as though he wanted to help me. I only raised a brow.

"You okay?"

Was that kindness in his voice? I immediately relaxed. Like, my body just . . . deflated. Slanting my hip against the table—not the corner, thanks—I crossed my arms again. I tried telling myself it was to show my defiance but heck, I was feeling a little uncomfortable with my scarf tucked into my blouse.

Rules.

I'd taken off the white coat we were all required to wear and left it in the kitchen. Now, I was truly beginning to regret my decision.

"Fine," I huffed, carrying on the staring competition Knight and I had going on. My armpits were beginning to sweat, leaving a trail down my waist. Phew. Somebody had intense eyes. "What was it you said earlier?"

It was like pressing a button and the fury came flooding back inside him. He started to advance towards me and I sank back, breath quickening. Think, think, think!

Before he got too close, I held up a hand. In front of my face, folks. Total dab style. Except, well, my other arm was tucked behind, holding onto the bureau for dear life. I heard, rather than saw, him halt, super-shiny shoes skidding. Hah! Yeah, I was being a little dramatic.

But dramatic situations called for dramatic precautions. Or whatever the quote said.

"You're a boss, I know, but I can totally file a case against you for assault," Blabbering was what I was good at. Except . . . I shut my mouth, pressing the dabbing hand to my lips.

"No English, huh?" It was the smirk on his face that sealed the deal.

No, I didn't slap him. My heart turned into an ooey-gooey delicious melted chocolate. White chocolate. Focus!

Just the way he said it . . . ah! I'm sure he could see the stars in my eyes as I gazed at him adoringly, losing all sense of why I was supposed to teach him a lesson.

"I . . ." Letting out a nervous laugh, I pressed my lips together. "I do . . . know how to speak English . . . it's just . . ."

"Why did you lie to me?" He crossed his strong arms, muscles bulging and propped against the table opposite to mine.

I was the scared kitten and he was the predator. Sweet predator? For God's sake, Alana! He is not being sweet right now! Can you just focus?

"I-I don't know," Yeah, yeah, I know what you all are thinking. She's such a loser and blah blah. I am a loser. Whatever. "It seemed like a sensible decision at that time."

There you go. Ain't that big of a loser, eh?

He brushed back the dark hair falling into his eyes. "It probably was. So, what, the job you mentioned is here?"

Were we in a civil conversation right now? "You answer me first. What did you say to me when I entered?"

"Your clothes," he gritted out, nostrils flaring.

"My clothes, yeah. What's wrong with them?" I should've popped a chewing gum to go with that tone. Remind me next time.

"They're skin-tight," He stated the obvious and I gave a short bark of fake, feminine laughter.

"And you are? My father?"

Gosh, I deserved an award for putting that flabbergasted look on his face. "What?! I—no—I am the boss, though. It's against my rules to wear revealing clothes."

Revealing? Revealing?!

"I am fully covered, Mr . . . whatever your name is," His name was a faint memory in my brain. Burak, yes. Last name? I had no idea. "And you've got to be kidding me about the dress code. There are women downstairs and they are literally NAKED." See, I said I was dramatic.

"You're loud," he deadpanned. "As for my name, it is Burak Enes, you better implant it into that head of yours. For you, I'm Sir. That understood?"

Sir, my foot.

He must've seen the supercilious expression on my face, because his jaw tightened, ticking in annoyance. I could make saints lose their patience with me. It came naturally.

"And," he continued giving me a headache, "I never said there was a dress code for everyone."

"Oh, so this rule applies only to me? How generous you are, Sir." The last part was meant as an insult and if the furious set of his jawline was any indication, he well knew.

"I don't want you distracting my clients,"

"I work in the café so that's not going to be a problem for you," Distract? Men barely looked my way. Except for that guy in the elevator. I had 'boring' written all over me.

"And you'll be coming here often, so I want to see you in proper, loose clothing from tomorrow. That clear?"

Oh, I'd show him just how clear it was.