Chapter 60: Sick Day
His cologne swirls around me and something in his eyes warns me he isn't kidding, but I refuse to roll my chair back. I won't give in to him now physically. I may have lost the battle, but I'll win the war.
My tongue itches to lie. To think of something outlandish, but those eyes of his say no. They hold something deep in their depths, a promise.
"Yes," I say, not giving him an inch. "I have horrible seasonal allergies and only five days of pills left before I turn into a snotty disgusting mess." Let him picture me sitting out here hacking and coughing germs on everything. Blowing my nose every five minutes and leaving little rags all over his workspace.
Vincent shakes his head and rears back a fraction as if he's confused. "You promise that's why?"
What is it with him and promising?