It’s been three days since Ophelia bought herself a set of lingerie on a shopping trip with the girls that I wasn’t invited to. I’ve bought her two more since, and addedOphelia in red laceto the list of things I have but will never deserve.
I press my mouth to hers, taking her face in my hands and swallowing her soft sigh. She sinks her fingers into my aching biceps, her tongue parting my lips. I swear thinking rational thoughts wasn’t this hard ten minutes ago. She hooks her leg around mine, my thigh resting between hers.
The shameless grind of her hips against the hard muscle of my leg makes me smile. I think Ophelia must obsess over my thighsalmost as much as I obsess over hers, my name a gasped breath from her lips. I graze my teeth along the shell of her ear, so desperate to sink myself into her that it hurts. “So wet, Ophelia.”
“Only for you,” she breathes, condemning me to an unproductive day of daydreams behind my desk.
In the future I cling onto, this is how all my days start.
“I have to go,” I manage, in what might be the greatest display of self-sacrifice in history.
Any other meeting I’d toss aside in favor of a lazy morning in bed with Ophelia, but not this one.
The first appointment in my diary today is months in the making.
When I started weighing my options for my replacement, Mike was the only person I was considering. Today I’ll ask Luis if he wants my job. I’ve caught an almost-costly mistake from Mike three times in as many weeks and seen him fly off the handle in meetings in a way that makes me wince, reminding me of terrible nights at home with my father.
“No,” she whispers, like I’ve betrayed her.
I sink my teeth into her shoulder. Hard. “Later.”
I’M TWENTY PAGESdeep into reviewing a contract from our legal team for a new deal with a French airport—a deal that has taken me about three times as long to close as it should’ve—when Ophelia calls.
I glance at the time.Fuck.Seven p.m. has long gone. I text Jacqueline and apologize, telling her to head home.
Ophelia’s voice is a welcome comfort, soft and husky through my AirPods. “Mr. Corbeau.”
I can’t even force a smile through the guilt that crushes my chest. “Miss Winters.”
“How’s work?”
“I completely lost track of time.”
“That’s okay. Are you feeling less stressed?”
“Yeah, I got a lot done today with the French deal and the press conference.”
“Then that’s all that matters.”
But it isn’t all that matters. In fact, it’s exactly what shouldn’t matter.
“How’d it go with Luis?”
“Good. Very good. His vision for Green matches mine.”
“And Mike?”
I lean back in my chair and stretch my arms above my head. That’s a conversation for tomorrow that I’m really not looking forward to. “Haven’t told him he’s not getting the job.”
“How do you think he’ll take it?”
“Terribly, I imagine.”
“I’d cry while telling him.”
“I might, at this rate.”
“I need to head back, Alex.”
