His lips are only on hers for a second before she's shoving him back, hard. "You are married," she hisses angrily.
It only now occurs to Vincent, after he has already acted, that Nadine might not capitulate as easily as he thought. In all his fantasies, she never put up a fight—not this soon out the gate, anyway. He didn't think it'd matter to her one way or the other that he's married—ever since her own divorce, she's shown little more than contempt for the institution as a whole.
He'd like to think that he knows her better than her actions are proving to him now.
Vincent decides to challenge it, challenge her. "And?" He won't lose anything by trying.
"And you're my boss." She crosses her arms defensively, backpedaling until she's put a good six feet of distance between them. When he steps forward, she steps back.
"Which of those things bothers you more?"
"What bothers me most is that neither of those things seem to matter to you."
"In DC, the rules are flexible. All of them," he says.
"Not to me."
"They are if you work for me." As soon as he says it, he knows it's a losing strategy. She'll never be intimidated into submission.
"Is that a threat?" Her glare has grown cold.
"...I haven't decided yet."
She stalks away, livid, tense.
"Nadine," he says sharply, just as she's turning the door handle.
She whips around. "There's lipstick on your mouth," she says curtly. "Wipe it off before someone sees."
The door slams behind her.
