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I’ll be waiting to see him again. I hope it’s soon.Chapter 29MarenThe last few days have consisted of handling dozens of calls from the media and sponsors regarding Raymond Fischer’s knee injury. With treatment and rehabilitation, the twenty-three-year-old will be back on the ice in a few months.
I recited that same line to everyone who called inquiring about him. Even though his team held a press conference the day after his surgery, people still wanted Keats to give them the inside scoop.
There wasn’t anything to tell them beyond what was already in the press.
Keats is due to arrive back in Manhattan tomorrow.
He left Philadelphia as soon as Raymond’s dad arrived. Keats called me to ask me to book him a flight to Orlando. A scout had a tip on a basketball player, so Keats decided to make a detour to meet with him.
Every call and text we’ve exchanged during the past six days have been business related. It makes sense since I’m his assistant.
“Maren.”
My head darts up when I hear my name. I’m surprised to see Fletcher Newman standing in front of my desk.
I push to stand. “Hey, Fletcher. How are you?”
I try to hide my shock. When I was going through the break room to see what I could find to serve the Newmans last week, Everett told me that unless they liked bitter coffee or old tea, they’d be unsatisfied.
He went on to say that Keats keeps the bare minimum of essentials on hand for the staff because clients never come to the office. That’s why I went to a bodega nearby to stock up for the Newmans’ visit. I’ve kept it stocked for the staff since.
“I’m good.” He bounces in his sneakers. “Is Keats around?”
I glance toward his darkened office. “He’s out of town. Is there anything I can do to help you?”
A spot of red appears on each of his cheeks. “It’s kind of a guy thing.”
I smile. “I guess I’m not equipped to help.”
That draws a laugh from him. “I want to do something extra special for my folks. So, I think I’ll rent a tux for the party, but it’s in a couple of days. I thought Keats might know someone who could suit me up last minute.”
I slide open the bottom drawer of my desk and grab my purse and phone. Then, I open the top drawer and reach for the company credit card Everett gave me when I signed my employment contract. I’ve only used it for the break room supplies. “I know a place. They’ll have exactly what you need.”
He glances down at the card in my hand. “That’s not for the rental, is it? I have room on my credit card, I think.”
Keats would want me to handle this. If he were here, his credit card would be in his hand too.
“I don’t want you to worry about that.” I point to the elevator. “All you need to think about is looking your best for the big night.”
Fletcher sprints to the elevator to press the call button.
I follow as fast as my three-inch heels will allow me to.
As soon as we board the lift, Fletcher turns to me. “Keats is damn lucky to have you. I hope one day I’ll find a girl as sweet as you.”
I’m his assistant. I’m his assistant.
I silently chant that in my head as Fletcher smiles at me.
“Are you excited about the party?” I try and shift the subject to something other than my fake relationship with Keats.
“I’m more stoked for the beer that they’ll have there.” He laughs. “My dad expects me to eat clean. He wants me to exercise every day, sleep eight hours, and stay away from beer.”
I study him as the elevator descends to the lobby. “What do you want, Fletcher?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Do you want those things too?”
He half-shrugs. “I guess. I get to drink two beers at the party, so I’m good.”
The doors slide open, and with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans, and his shoulders tensed, he sets off to cross the lobby.
I fall in step beside him wondering if he’s as happy inside as he looks on the outside when he smiles.Chapter 30KeatsAll work and no play make me a cranky as fuck.
I haven’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s been a hell of a long time. I had more than one chance this past week, but I kept my dick in my pants because it only craves one person.
Maren Weber.
That’s right. I fucked my palm every single night while I imagined my assistant on her knees with my dick between her lips, or to change it up, I conjured up an image of her sitting on my face. To add to the mix, I envisioned fucking her from behind.
That’s the roll call of fantasies currently running on a loop in my brain. Occasionally, I’ll think about her spread-eagled on my desk while I slide my cock into her pussy nice and slow.
