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To be fair I don’t care about the sugar. I know people take home the free snacks we had at the office, and it doesn’t matter. After all, if people were so hard up at home that some granola bars would make them happy, then I wanted them to have the damn bars.
I did like the way she thought she was in trouble though because it was invigorating. This game of cat and mouse was turning me on, and I grinned while the blonde trembled.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I need some sugar at home, that’s all. I thought I’d borrow some from the break room.”
I stare at her, amused.
“You can’t buy your own sugar? Aren’t you getting paid a salary to work here?” I mused. In all fairness we did pay our employees well. However, in New York City, even a really well-compensated employee can struggle to get by.
She paused, chest heaving, and looked back up at me. I throbbed hard and took in a deep breath. I wanted her. I had to have her. She innocently admitted to stealing from my company and all I could think about was what her nipples would taste like in my mouth.
“Um, sir… I um, yes, I’m sorry,” she stumbled and started to back out of the kitchen. “I’ll get some replacements for the company, I promise. Tomorrow at the latest. I swear.”
Oh no, she wasn’t about to get away from me that easily. I’d already decided I wanted to have her, and there was no turning back now.
“Hold on a sec,” I say, standing in front of the door so that she can’t leave. “What’s your name?”
Her eyes come up and her gaze is a heart-stopping shade of cornflower blue.
“Um, Natalie. I’m Natalie Miller. I’m an intern this summer,” she mumbles while looking at the ground. “All my money goes to rent and tuition. I know I shouldn’t have taken the sugar, but I can’t afford a good sugar substitute and we always have so much of it here at Crane. Have you ever tried to make banana nut muffins with a bad sugar substitute? It’s disgusting, beyond disgusting. Like you would want to puke,” she babbles on and on.
Things start clicking in my mind.
“An intern?” I ask. That was why I don’t know her, and it’s probably also why she has no money for her silly sugar and decided stealing from work was the best choice.
The more respectable part of me knew I should let this situation go because it’s really not a big deal. Hell, I could buy her a warehouse full of Pinvia and it would be no big deal. But then, there was the deplorable part of me. The part that sometimes brought women home from the club purely for a single night of pleasure, and unfortunately, that part of me is a real asshole sometimes.
“Yes, sir,” Natalie says softly, still looking at the floor.
“Well, Natalie, I need to talk to you in my office,” I order. “We need to discuss this further.”
The sweet girl clutched her purse and looked like she was about to cry. But I didn’t want her to cry. All I wanted was her, alone with me in my office. I couldn’t properly talk to her in the middle of the kitchen where anyone could come in and interrupt us.
I strode down the hall with brisk steps and at first, she didn’t move. But then, her soft footsteps sounded on the carpet and I knew she was behind me. As we entered the elevator, I held the door for her to get in. Natalie stood as far away from me as possible in the small space, but her scent filled my nostrils nonetheless, arousing me even more. It was a delicious combination of coconut and banana. Perhaps she had been making some of those sugar substitute banana muffins of hers?
“I’m really sorry,” she stammered again. “I can put the sugar packets back, actually. How about that? Would that be okay?”
There was no need to respond to Natalie just yet because I wanted to leave her hanging. Besides, I wanted to get her into my office to see just what this sexual tension was between the two of us. I had a gut feeling that Natalie found me attractive because, hell, most women did. I smiled as we stood in silence on the elevator ride to the top floor.
Had Natalie figured out who I was yet? Well, she was going to soon enough because my name’s on the front door and all this, including her, is my territory.
3
Natalie
I hope I don’t get fired. Actually, let me rephrase: I can’t get fired because I might hate working in a cubical and I definitely don’t like Harvey, but I need this job. My parents are wonderful, but they’re middle class and the New School is expensive. I’m counting on my salary this summer to help with tuition in the fall.
