Page 18 of Under Her

So, here I am, on my way to her office. Tail between my legs. Figuratively. Because my actual tail is very keen on getting between her legs.

But that’s never going to happen.

A: Because she probably still thinks I’m the same prick that she thought I was nine years ago.

And B: We work together now. She might be on my level managerially, but ultimately, this company is going to be mine one day, so in an indirect way, that makes her an employee.

The door to Morgan’s office is open when I approach. She’s got her back to me, staring out the window.

Her office used to belong to Dennis Walsh. He was Deputy CEO. He died suddenly a year and a half ago of a heart attack. My parents never refilled his position, and his office has stood empty ever since. They just distributed his work between themselves and me. He’d worked for them forever, and he’d been a good friend to them, so it hit them hard, losing him. It hit us all hard.

So, it’s a little weird to see Morgan standing in here, in his office. I half-expect to hear the sound of Dennis’s big, booming laughter.

The office is bare, except for Dennis’s old desk and chair.

She’ll need new furniture.

“You like the view?” I say in a soft voice so as not to startle her.

I see her back stiffen at the sound of my voice, which isn’t a good sign, and then she looks at me over her shoulder before turning to face me.

“It’s stunning.”

So are you. The thought pops into my head out of nowhere.

But I’m right. She is stunning.

“You’re going to need new furniture.” I gesture to the sparse space.

Her eyes move around. “Yeah.”

“I’ll get my PA, Chrissy, to email you the link to the website of the office supplier we use. Just pick out what you need and let Chrissy know, and she’ll have it here for you when you start on Monday.”

“That’ll be great. Thanks.”

There’s a brief lull of silence between us.

“Has my mom mentioned anything about hiring a PA for you?” I ask her.

She nods. “Yes. Your mom lined up some interviews for me, so I should be sorted soon.”

“Good…great.”

We slip into that goddamn silence again.

I just need to say what I came here to say and then get out of here.

“Look, Morgan…” I rub a hand over my hair. “What happened earlier in my office…what you saw on the back of my shirt—”

“Is none of my business,” she cuts me off.

“I know, but I just want you to know that’s not the norm for me. I’m never usually late or unprofessional in that way. It was just…” I can’t exactly tell her that I was out, drinking at a bar, because I was freaking out over her starting work here and taking half of my job.

“Honestly, you don’t have to explain, Wilder.”

The way she says my name, it’s like hearing it for the first time. Sure, she must’ve said my name to me in college, but it never felt like this. Like a cattle prod to the spine, sparking my dick to life. Well, not that he seems to be asleep in her presence, but you know what I mean. Seriously though, I would have for sure remembered if hearing her say my name back in college made me feel that way. I’d have found a way to get her to like me, so I could have screwed her. Shallow bastard that I am.

“I think I do.” I take a breath. “I know that we didn’t get along great in college—”