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I hit the call button for the elevator, relaxed as it took its time descending. I always arrived at work twenty minutes early so I could miss the lift-madness as everyone tried to get up to their floors. After my first two days in the office I had learned that waking up a little earlier was worth it if it meant missing out on the stressful crush. Avoiding stress before I sat at my desk was key to having an efficient day.
“Oh, hey there, Bev. You’re here early.”
I looked up to see Chris and another mid-level manager, both of them holding bagels that looked absolutely delicious. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but I had a cereal bar in my purse that could be eaten once I had my agenda for the day.
“I’m always here at this time,” I said casually. “You’re the ones that are early.”
He laughed at that, as did the woman next to him as they joined me in the elevator. No one had tried a surprise party since that inopportune one during my second week, but I was still wary that they had something else up their sleeves.
“Hey, you’re almost approaching the month mark, aren’t you?” he asked.
I nodded, trying not to think about it. My first two weeks had gone pretty much exactly how I read it would online. But after I had gotten just a liiiiitttle bit snarky with Mr. Fitzgerald was right about when the weirdness happened.
It started off with my routine for the day changing. It was just tiny things at first. Things that required I interact with him for longer or stick around his office. But the most I did, the more I aced whatever he asked of me, the more my chores required me to stick around.
And I didn’t really mind it. Even if Mr. Fitzgerald was intimidating, blunt and taciturn, he certainly was eye candy. While I didn’t shirk my duties to stare at him, I certainly allowed myself to enjoy his aesthetic in my peripheral vision.
But then that had happened.
The shower thing.
Or rather, after shower thing. Maybe I should call it the towel thing. But whatever its name was, I had just come back from grabbing the man some food when he had suddenly been standing in a door with only a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I think only three other assistants have gotten that far,” the woman beside Chris said, sounding impressed. “Whatever you’re doing, you’re killing it.”
“It’s no big deal,” I said automatically, feeling my cheeks flush as I recalled his body. He’d been quite wet still, all shiny and slicked up under his office’s lights. I hadn’t been able to help it as my eyes focused on one of those droplets of water as it navigated through his absolutely ridiculous musculature. I hadn’t meant to stare, hadn’t meant to burn the image of him into my mind, but I could recall the scene so damn accurately that I was sure my cheeks were coloring.
“Well, I certainly think it is,” Chris said with a wide grin. “I knew you’d be a great fit.”
Thankfully the elevator doors opened to their floors and they got out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I was not the type to get all wound up over a nice body. I appreciated, and I moved on, always having much more important things to focus about. But I couldn’t quite shake the image of him standing there, looking at me like everything was perfectly normal.
And it would be one thing if he had made it sexual or had tried to come on to me. I had no problem marching down to HR or making a fuss if I was being harassed. But it wasn’t like that at all. It had almost been like…
My mind struggled to describe it, not used to such situations. But the best I could think of that it was sort of like… staking a claim? I was in his space, his territory, and he was just acting as he normally would. Showing me that my presence was such a non-entity that it didn’t even matter that I saw him wrapped in only a very expensive piece of terry cloth.
And for some reason that made me want to make him notice me.
I was very grateful for my smudge-proof lipstick as I licked my lips nervously. Soon I was going to have to put my professional mask back in place and act like I didn’t think the man was a total almost-silver fox.
A jerk, yeah, but definitely a fox.
I remembered reading that he was somewhere in his forties. Old enough to be my father – if he was still alive. But instead of being a negative, I found that so much more compelling. The things he had to know, the experiences he had to have…and the thrill I could get by just one word – Daddy!
