Chapter 9: Put The Tie On Me

Unlike how I had left him, there was no open file in front of him. The cocky male was sitting watching me like a smug hawk with his head tilted a smudge. I infused as much confidence as possible in my stride and approached his desk. He glanced at his expensive-looking watch and quilled. "Just in time, I thought you won't make it." I smacked my lips shut and refrained from retorting. 'Be nice, Arata,' I grilled myself. Carrying the coffee cup in front of him, my hands shook irrespective of how hard I tried to keep them steady. The cup slightly rattled on the pitcher, and I tried not to sneak a glance at the smug man. I set the box containing the tie right next to the cup. "Sir! Your coffee and tie, as requested." I flashed him a professional smile. Strands of his shadowy hair kissed the top of his nose, and he brushed them away with his long, tapered fingers before reaching for the cup. The white tendrils still rose in abundance, promising it was hot. I waited with my breath stuck in my lungs as his index finger coiled in the handle and he picked it up, taking a tentative sip with puckered lips. I didn't even blink, gawking at his reaction. He placed the cup down, and his darkened, amused eyes found me. "Who made the coffee?" My heart sank, but then the loophole clicked. "You asked me to fetch your coffee, not make it." The amusement in his eyes spread to his irresistibly shaped lips. "It's cold. Next time, it should be ultra hot, and you will be the one to make it, not Miranda." What did he think he was? A volcano? Or a kiln? Maybe a boilthatich wished to devour ultrahot liquids. The funny images of him looking like a boiler burst into my mind, nd and I had to purse my lips and not laugh out loud and put on a serious face. But he was shrewd and carefully observed my reaction. "Did I perhaps crack a joke?" "No, Sir!" I quickly shook my h, head and our gazes connected. His was oddly perturbing, it rattled and excited me at the same time. Like a hot feeling turned and eased, it settled in the pits of my stomach. Snatching his gaze away, he focused it on the box and reached to open it. The cerulean veins were etched on his hand like tributaries, and I couldn't help but stare. The blue cufflinks he wore had the same blue rose embossed in them that I had seen on his door. Taking out the blue tie, he felt the texture between his fingers, and his wild gaze wavered towards me again. My hands squirmed in anxiousness. He was going to recognise this too. Extending the tie towards me, he nonchalantly asked. "Put it on me, I am getting late for my meeting." I blinked in a stupor. He wanted me to put the tie on him. Was this another of his tests? Or was he so entitled that he couldn't do it himself? Seeing me undecided and standing there like a mannequin, he spoke again. "Do you know how to do it? Or maybe I need to teach that too." A few ridges appeared on my forehead at his words. Quietly, I took the long, soft fabric from his hand and answered. "I know how to knot a tie... Sir," I added the last word a bit late on purpose and his cocked brow upped some more. He was haughty and challenging. He stood up, and my eyes followed him. He was tall. No, he was tall like those Instagram models we girls love to gawk at doing pull-ups without their shirts on. Their bodies glistening with beads of sweat. The difference was that he had a shirt on. The sharp cuts of the fabric were pulled smoothly against his sinewy body. He screamed elegance and refinement as there was not a wrinkle in place. Going around his desk in a smooth, brisk walk, he thrust his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. Coming to a halt right in front of me, the cold man stared down. Not in distaste but a hint of curiosity as if trying to decipher a puzzle that had been placed in front of him. Nervousness raised its head again as I found myself staring into those gloomy circles of his. He carried a certain baggage, some hidden mysteries too. Unknowingly, I took a deep breath, and subtle hints of his cologne hit me in abundance. It was fresh, clean, with notes of some extremely expensive whisky with undertones of tobacco. Was he a smoker? I inhaled greedily again; his scent was soothing in some sense. I hadn't imagined I would be finding another male's scent soothing after Andy. But the thought of my first love shattered my confidence like a hammer to the glass. Suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with my body and felt Mr Karsten's gaze scrutinising me. I lowered my eyes instantly, my mood shifting and my shoulders slumping. He must have felt the change in me. "The ti,e Miss Arata," he asked more softly than he had before. His voice is a subtle whisper like a caress. There was no hostility. I had to be professional; he was going to be my boss, and these were going to be part of my job descriptions. With a deep breath, I raised my eyes and hands again and reached for his buttons, trying to avoid the tanned skin. My hands landed on the sides of his shirt, and I began to button it up. His chest was warm even from the fabric, and I could feel the heaviness of his gaze on me. My cheeks and ears burned, and my heart sped up like a racing car doing 200 miles an hour. The tattoo of that vicious-looking serpent stared back at me, and I wondered what it meant. I fumbled with his buttons; my hands shook so badly that I missed it several times. After some excruciatingly long seconds, I was finally able to button up the upper two butt,ons and only the collar one was left. I raised my, yes, and our gazes collided again.