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It’s nearinglunchtime as I head down to the fifteenth floor. Making my way toward Makayla’s office, I take notice of the curious glances thrown in my direction. There’s no policy prohibiting employees from dating as long as they keep their personal shit outside the office, but it doesn’t stop the gossip mill from churning. I should probably give her a heads-up.
My angel is sitting behind her desk, eyes glued to her computer. Her facial expression says she’s in business mode. I may sound a little biased, but she’s pretty good at her job.
As if she senses my presence, her eyes shift to the doorway, and she smiles. “Hey, handsome.”
“Angel.” I grin.
Pushing off the doorframe, I enter her office, closing the door behind me. As I round her desk, she turns her chair and takes my hands. I pull her into my arms and seal my mouth over hers. “Mmm,” I hum, trailing kisses over her jaw. “Have you been a good girl today?”
Pulling back, she purses her lips. “What if I said no?”
My lips curl up on one side. “Then I’ll have to spank that sweet ass of yours.”
“Maybe I’ll be bad more often,” she taunts.
“Won’t hear me complaining. It’s a win-win for me either way.” I drop a kiss to her lips. “Come on. I’m taking you to lunch.”
On the way to the elevator, Makayla chats animatedly about how she's never had a hobby and wants to take a painting class at some art gallery in The Village. All the while she’s completely oblivious to the glares from her coworkers.
At the deli downstairs, she grabs us a table while I get our sandwiches.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I start.
Makayla laughs. “You’re adorable, Cannon.”
I raise my brows. “Adorable?”
“I already know what you’re going to say. You think I didn’t notice the questioning stares from those women? I’ve been dealing with it since high school. I know what women see when they look at me. Tramp, slut, whore, gold digger, dumb, ditzy… submissive.” She huffs out a humorless laugh.
“Perceptive,” I add.
She smiles but it’s sad. “Victor used to call me a slut and a whore. I hated it, and he knew why, but he still did it to be cruel. I know it’s a kink for some, and I’m not judging, but for me, it’s sort of a trigger. I was bullied in high school and it got pretty bad. It all started because Brittany’s boyfriend flirted with me. The guy was a jerk and he flirted with a lot of girls. There were rumors he was cheating too. Anyway, it was gradual. First there were the whispers and going out of their way to exclude me. They would make plans right in front of me and then say ‘You can’t come, Makayla, because I don’t want you flirting with my boyfriend’. It was catty stuff like that. They didn’t want me around because they didn’t like their boyfriends paying attention to me. It wasn’t my fault. I was always polite to them but I never flirted back. Then the guys started in on me and I’m sure you can imagine all the crude things teenage boys say.” Her eyes shimmer with tears and she shakes her head as if she’s trying to shove back the memories. “Then it escalated to rumors that I had sex with this guy, or that guy. Then it was two guys. I didn’t even know who they were. The football players would cough ‘whore’ into their fists when I walked down the hall. They were so mean.” I clench my fists under the table. I hate every single person who has ever hurt her. “I had a boyfriend senior year but he couldn’t handle everyone calling his girlfriend a whore, so he broke up with me.” She drags in a breath and blows it out slowly. “Defending myself over and over became exhausting. I finally just gave up. Women are no different. They look at me and they think ‘who did she blow to get this job?’” She snickers and I can’t help but laugh.
“You got the job on your own,” I remind her.
“They don’t know that. All they see is a young blonde with perky tits. Either I’m dumb or I’m sucking someone’s dick. And they’d be right.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I’m out of my chair and crouching in front of her.
Cupping her face, I tell her, “The moment I laid eyes on you, I saw a beautiful, smart, confident young woman. I saw a woman I wanted to call mine.”
Her eyes well with tears. “I am yours.”
Leaning forward, I press a chaste kiss to her lips. “Do you want me to call a meeting to sort out the gossip mill upstairs?”
She snorts a laugh. “That will go over almost as well as the time my mother marched into the principal’s office and demanded they make everyone be nice to me.”
I laugh. “She sounds like a good mother.”
A soft smile pulls at her lips. “The best.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “Eat your sandwich.”
While we finish our lunch, she tells me how her mom arranged a prom just for her and the few friends who hadn’t abandoned her. It makes me sick how cruel kids are to each other.
I wonder if Heather ever went through that. I’d like to think she would’ve told me if that were the case. She struggled for a few years after our parents died, but she stayed out of trouble for the most part. She was quiet and introverted. At least that’s what I thought, until she showed up at my club with our neighbor, Tommy. I gave that fucker one week to pack up his shit and get the fuck out of dodge or I was going to bury his ass.
