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Chapter Thirteen
Anita
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or punch something as I stared at the email from var Rorik on Tuesday morning. Ms Chaudhary,
As per our lively discussion yesterday, my associate’s well-meaning (if not somewhat gauche) idea of “flaming shots” for the event has officially been taken off the table. I’m sure you’ll come up with a suitably appropriate drinks menu befitting the theme of the evening.
If there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, I’d be happy to make the time. For more lively discussions.
Nuni
My thighs clenched together at the idea of repeating our “lively discussion”. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about our “lively discussion” all night. Or morning. I’d zoned out on the walk to my pilates class, almost stepping straight into traffic. And the pilates hadn’t helped to distract me whatsoever. All I’d been able to think about was if var Rorik was on the gym floor next door in his grey sweats and skin-tight shirt. All sweaty, with his big muscles bulging while he lifted weights.
I couldn’t believe I’d missed my one and only chance to see him naked.
God, I bet he looked unspeakably good naked. I wanted to see him completely bare, spread out and vulnerable underneath me —although I doubted Nuni var Rorik ever let himself actually be vulnerable.
But he would be, in a way, if the tables were turned and he was the one naked and on display while I was fully dressed. I couldn’t stop myself from picturing it. var Rorik naked in my bed—or any bed, it didn’t matter—with his face all tight and desperate and his claws digging into the mattress and his big, muscular chest heaving while I knelt between his legs and played with his dick. Maybe worked a finger inside him.
Did he like a finger in his ass? Some people didn’t, and yesterday’s encounter hadn’t really been enough to tell me what he was truly like in bed. Whether he was regimented and stuck only to what he knew he liked, or if he was up for trying anything at least once.
And I’d never find out.
Unless… unless something did happen again. Just accidentally. Through no fault of our own. Maybe when we went to view the ballroom at the Basalt Hotel, we’d accidentally get lost and find ourselves in a magically unlocked and unoccupied hotel room. Maybe he’d trip and his pants would fall down and his shirt buttons would burst open. Maybe he’d stumble and land flat onto the bed, and then I’d stumble too and find myself falling on top of him…
“Anita!”
I jumped out of my skin when Corva’s voice cut through my spiralling horny thoughts. All the blood drained from my face as I lifted my head and stared at her, as if she’d somehow know what I’d been picturing. What had happened.
“How’s it going with the Rorik + Stimis event?” she asked cheerfully, making me blink rapidly. God, I was a fucking terrible liar—most of the time. How was I going to do this?
“You were out yesterday looking at venues, right?” she continued, making her way over to my desk.
“I… Yes.” I licked my dry lips and glanced at the bottle of water on my desk. Would it be obvious something was up if I had to take a long sip to wet my suddenly parched throat? And maybe delay this conversation?
It felt like every tiny movement I made brought up a gigantic neon sign flashing above my head. OUR BIG, IMPORTANT CLIENT WENT DOWN ON ME ON HIS DESK YESTERDAY!
“Mr var Rorik”—my gut clenched just saying his name—“is somewhat particular about where the event should be held. But I’ve almost convinced him to go for the ballroom at the Basalt.”
She nodded in approval and beamed at me. “Fantastic choice. See? I knew I could trust you with this one.”
My stomach squeezed into an even tighter knot, guilt making me want to hunch over. She shouldn’t trust me. I’d fucked up so bad. Corva was a great boss, and for the most part, she was very relaxed with her staff. Which made the rules she did have even more meaningful.
And I’d broken the biggest one.
Having sex with a client was so unbelievably unprofessional. I mean, that went without saying. I couldn’t actually believe I was thinking this, but thank god it had been with var Rorik, who I genuinely trusted wouldn’t say anything. I didn’t even know why I was so sure of that—I barely knew him—but he’d been so… sincere last night when I started panicking. He’d actually made me feel better.
I understood why the rule might seem unnecessary or over-the-top to him, but that was because he wasn’t the type to brag to his friends about fucking his event planner within a week of hiring her. Those were the kinds of rumours that could make a company a laughingstock. The kind that could stop people from hiring us because their lifemates or spouses couldn’t trust the person who’d suddenly be in their partner’s life for months, going to intimate food-tastings and venues like hotels with them.
Rumours always got out of hand, and the business world was viciously cutthroat. I represented Corva and her company when I was working with clients. And so far, with this particular client, I’d done a piss-poor job.
I knew I should just process it as a lapse in judgement and move on, never let it happen again, but I was pretty sure this guilt would eat away at me. And I did trust var Rorik not to tell Corva or go blabbing to his associate, but… what if someone found out anyway?
What if a junior architect had come to his door last night and heard us, after seeing me go into his office? Or…
Oh my god. A horrifying realisation made my armpits prickle with sweat. The windows. The giant fucking windows behind his desk, offering an unobstructed view from the building opposite of me spread-eagled on his desk with his face buried between my legs.
Oh my god. Oh my god. It hadn’t been late—there’d surely still been people working in those offices. What if someone had filmed it? That was the kind of shit people posted online all the time. And phone cameras were almost worryingly good now. They would’ve been able to zoom right in on my face.
