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“Okay,” I agree, though I have no intention of bringing my two worlds together just yet. My mum knows I’m seeing someone. She just doesn’t know who. Or that, that someone is my boss.
“You haven’t told her about us, have you?” Nathan asks me.
“I haven’t exactly been home much.” I try to feign nonchalance.
“Are you ashamed of dating me, Bentley?” he questions while pulling pans from the cabinet.
“Of course I’m not ashamed of you.” I’m not. I’m ashamed ofmyself.I knew better than to get involved with my boss. Iknowbetter too. But I’m not ashamed of him. He’s the complete package. Why he’s even still single, I have no idea. “Why are you still single anyway?” I say aloud this time. “I mean, you’re a catch? Why hasn’t anyone scooped you up yet?”
Nathan sets the pan on the cooktop and then turns around. “First of all, I’m not single. I happen to be going steady with a very beautiful, extremely intelligent woman. Second, I never allowed myself to get scooped up… before this woman came along and blew my fucking mind, body, and soul.”
Well, shit. I have no words.
SIXTEEN
Thursday. It’s been almost a week since Bentley handed in her notice. Things at the office have been fucked. Xavier’s being sued by some crazy fucking ex-employee—we’re all working on finding a way to make sure he wins that case.
Bentley still hasn’t reneged on her resignation, no matter how many times I’ve asked her to. We have a meeting with Mark Kemp and his solicitors today. I’m nervous that his presence is going to upset her. But I’m also hopeful that her attendance will make her realise if she leaves the firm, she’s leaving this case. And I know how much she wants to win the claim against Kemp. I know she wants to clear her father’s name and get him the justice he and his family deserve.
I’m not going to lie. I’m working harder on this case then I ever have on anything else. Because of her. I want to make sure our claim is ironclad. For her. Even if she does go through with her resignation, I will make sure I win this fucking suit for her.
I pick up the phone and call through to Tracey.
“Mr Miller?” she asks.
“Can you call Bentley? Tell her I need to see her, and then you can take an extra-long lunch break.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. I’ll call Miss Johnson now.”
“Thanks, Tracey.” I hang up the phone.
Tracey has been my secretary for years now. She never misses a beat. I couldn’t survive without her help. But having her hear what I’m planning on doing to Bentley, from where the woman is perched on the other side of the door, isn’t something I want to expose my aging secretary to. No, my luck, she’ll have a heart attack and then the firm will have a sexual harassmentanda wrongful death suit on its hands. Besides, I respect Tracey and I don’t want her to think differently of me or Bentley.
Bentley knocks on my door. “You wanted to see me.”
“Always.” I smile at her. “Come in. Lock the door behind you,” I tell her before pressing the button to fog the glass walls, to give us the privacy we’re going to need.
Bentley walks in. “Not there,” I tell her right as she goes to sit in a chair on the opposite side of my desk.
“Where would you like me to sit, Mr Miller?”
“Around here.” I scoot backwards in my chair, creating a space between myself and my desk.
When she steps around and leans on the edge in front of me, I reach my hands up her skirt. “You’re not going to need these,” I tell her, pulling her panties down her legs. I lift her right ankle so she can step out of them once they hit the floor. I slide the material of her skirt higher, so it bunches around her waist, before picking her up and sitting her on my desk.
“I thought you wanted to do work things?” she says.
“I do. We’re having lunch together. Are you hungry, Bentley?” I ask her, spreading her legs. I place one foot on each of the armrests of my chair. Her glistening, bare pussy is right at eye level, and my mouth salivates at the sight. Inhaling, I can smell her aroma. I want her taste on my tongue. But I’m going to make her squirm first.
“I’m not hungry,” she says.
“I made you lunch.” I pick up the wrapped sandwiches I packed this morning. I don’t usually bring something in, but I wanted to eat with her today, and I didn’t want to waste time by going anywhere. “Chicken and avo,” I tell her, handing her the sandwich.
“You made me lunch?” she questions.
