Page 117 of At His Beck & Call

Upon reaching the admin office, I hand the copies we need to Renee, who takes them and moves to the back of the room to the machine.

The sound of the photocopier is constant at this end of the hallway, and I glance at the bright white office of Warren Sutcliffe nearby.

Adelaide told me that he and Oliver are up for the same EP position. I really hope Oliver gets it. He’s worked so hard for so long; he deserves it.

Renee reappears, handing me the documents, and I head back to my desk, wondering whether Oliver will ask to see me, but the light stays off, and his door remains shut.

I have several emails from Adelaide asking me to help with an upcoming event, and I call one of the suppliers to handle the catering, watching as Adelaide walks to Oliver’s office, knocks, and goes inside.

My body is rigid until she comes back out, her head down, looking through some envelopes. She doesn’t even glance in my direction.

Letting out a slow breath, I continue with my morning, my mind all over the place, unable to concentrate fully on anything. I almost knock my coffee off my desk twice, and even Adelaide comments on how scatterbrained I seem today.

I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, pulling at my hair to smooth it. I stare at my reflection, the shadows under my eyes obvious as I poke at my skin, trying to look less tired.

Pulling out my concealer, I cover up the shadows as best I can, refreshing my lipstick while I’m at it.

Tugging my suit jacket down, I feel slightly more put together as I head back to my desk, only to find that Adelaide has gone.

I check my watch, realizing it’s time for lunch, and reach for my bag just as the light on my desk flares brightly.

I stand, frozen, half delirious with relief, half terrified.

What if he’s about to fire me?

Dropping my bag, I walk to his office door, my hands shaking a little as I turn the handle and step inside.

Oliver is standing in the center of the room, his arms folded across his massive chest, his heavy gaze on me as I close the door. I step further into the room, my hands fluttering nervously at my side.

“What time did you leave, Lissa?” he snaps.

The question is an octave lower than his usual voice, and I swallow as the deep reverberations reach me.

“Early.”

“You didn’t think to wake me up to let me know you were going? Or leave a note, to say you were alive?”

“I felt it was best I left,” I say, raising my chin as he rises to his full height, stalking toward me but not touching me.

“Oh, really? And why did you think that?” he growls.

“It’s for the best.”

“Whatis for the best, Lissa?”

“Keeping our work and personal lives separate.”

“Is that what we were doing?” he asks, taking a step toward me, his huge body impossible to ignore as I step back again and again until my shoulders hit the edge of the shelves.

“Y—yes.”

He lowers his head, his mouth half an inch from my own as I let out a shuddering, helpless breath.

“Was that what you were doing in my bed last night?” he murmurs, his hands brushing against my hips. “Is that what you were doing when you came all over my cock and then begged for it again?”

He moves to the door and locks it before coming back to where I’m standing.

His chest presses against mine as he pushes my body against the shelves behind me. There’s a little clink as one of the toys falls to the floor, and Oliver grips my hips so hard I wince.