Chapter 1 - Annika
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever encountered, Annika…”
I shouldn’t have listened to words that shouldn’t have made me fold so easily. But they are also words spoken from lips that usually mumble incoherently, from a tongue that clicks across a boardroom when he’s irritated.
Hearing him say those words, whispered in my ear like honey trickling from the heavens…damn…I couldn’t resist. I know I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but for now, having his lips trace my neck, traveling to my collarbones, my body turning pliant in his capable hands…
That’s all I want to focus on…
That’s all I can focus on…
“Hm…” I mewl as his hand slips beneath my dress, his fingers stroking the inside of my thigh as he searches for my clothed core. The crotch of my panties is already soaking, drenched in arousal, clinging to my folds like second skin. My fingers card through his luscious brown curls; his eyes darken as he pulls away and stares at my face, my blush-pink lips moist and swollen as far as I can see my reflection through his crystal gaze.
He finds my core and bites his bottom lip, eyes dark and hungry as he stares into mine. The moment his index finger slips beneath my panties, his knuckle brushing against my folds, my body shudders, and I dig into his shoulder blades with my nails, eyes closing as I throw my head back and moan.
And the moment I open my eyes, I’m staring at my ceiling, cheek kissed by the morning sun filtering through the curtains, in a pool of sweat from the dream.
“Fuck…” I groan, wiping a hand across the sweat on my forehead, one hand curling into a fist in the sheets as I chastise myself for even having that dream at all.
It’s not like I could help it, unless I didn’t fall asleep with thoughts ofhimon my mind.
It’s not like they were good thoughts. I mean, how could I possibly think well of him when he’d been a complete douchebag to me at last night’s gala dinner?
Did I just wake up from a sexy dream about the man I hate, in which I imagined him pinning me against the wall in his office while his hand slid up the slit of the tight black dress I’d been wearing last night?
Yes.
Do I regret having that dream?
Absolutely!
I hate his guts, and I’d rather die than have his hands anywhere near me.
Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, where I can scrub myself clean from the dream I had about my boss. It was more like a nightmare, and I’d rather not focus on it.
But it’s becoming increasingly hard not to as I prepare for the day, the time ticking by and bringing me closer to when I’ll inevitably have to face him.
Groan…
My outfit of choice is a navy-blue suit, and a black shirt to match my black heart in my chest—a heart blackened by hatred. Before I leave for the day, I check my emails, sighing because of another that starts with “Unfortunately…” in response to an application for another job.
If I had to guess, it’s my boss blocking any opportunity to leave my post as his personal assistant. The last time I asked him for a referral letter, he shot me down point-blank and asked me for his schedule for the week.
The journey to the office is excruciating; every mile feels more tedious than the last, my heart sinking and my spirit dying the closer I get to work. By the time I get to the parking garage, I switch off entirely, taking a few moments in the car to shut down my emotions and numb myself to whatever keeps me stuck in a loop of hatred toward my boss. While he’s insufferable, the pay is excellent, and the perks make it nearly worth putting up with his brutal coldness.
How someone can be so empathetically closed off makes no sense to me. It’s almost as if he isn’t human at all, like he’s a cold, heartless beast without a flicker of compassion or empathy for the human race.
I see it all the time—every meeting with the board or investors my boss attends only makes him appear as hard and cold as stone. He doesn’t bat an eyelid, doesn’t flinch, always has his fingers steepled in front of his face like he’s—
“Annika! Thank God, you’re here!” Melissa, the cute receptionist behind the desk in the lobby, springs up and comes rushing toward me, pushing a file into my hands.
“Oh, good morning, Mel. How was your evening?” I ask sarcastically as I take the file from her with a giant grin on my face.
She lets out a breath as if she’d been holding it in. “Sorry, Annika,” she whispers. “The board called an emergency meeting this morning, after last night’s success at the gala.”
Melissa beams from ear to ear, her eyes starry as she continues, “Mr. Ralph must have done something great.”
I scoff at the sentiment, placing a hand on her shoulder and patting it while my heart sinks. I thought I’d get at least another hour to myself before I had to see him this morning, but now there’s a surprise meeting I’ll be forced to attend. “Haven’t I told you before? The sun doesnotshine out of Mr. Ralph’s ass, Melissa.”
