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“You have a smile for her. I can tell it’s her. I have one that was just for my wife.”
“Oh, calm down with that talk now, Noah,” I joke with him. “We’ve only just met—”
“I told you Ann and I … it was two weeks and then forever.” His voice holds a hint of reverie.
“Yes, I know the story well.” Noah’s worked for me for the better part of a decade now. As my driver and at times my assistant when needed. “One day … one day I’ll have that,” I say and then run my hand through my hair, thinking thatone dayseems to get farther and farther away as the years go by. “Ms. Parks is … we are only getting to know each other.”
“Is that what you kids call it nowadays?”
Letting out a brutish laugh, I turn my attention back to my phone.
There are emails and calendar notifications. My father messaged me about details of some buildings Wyatt is hoping to acquire, but he needs the capital first. My capital. As well as some questions about my date and whether it’s serious.
Another message comes through, this time my mother, wanting to know about the date.
I debate on answering them, but I let my phone sit in my lap, thinking of Suzette at the dock yesterday and how easy it was. I haven’t had that before. No one has ever fit so well, even if she fights me along the way.
As if she knows I’m thinking of her, a message comes through:I need to sleep.
Then you should sleep, my little minx.
I watch the phone with anticipation, knowing she’s typing something, but then deletes it. A moment passes and she starts again. My phone buzzes, with the messenger open:I like being your little minx, I think.
I like it too.
The moment I send my response, it doesn’t feel good enough. It doesn’t carry the weight of just how much I enjoy her simply being there. I follow up with:
When you sleep, I want you to dream of me.
Yes, sir.
SUZETTE
Adrian fills my mind every hour that I’m awake, and most of the ones where I’m sleeping. His text messages make my pulse quicken with excitement.
I can hear how he would speak the words when I read them. It feels like falling. In only a week’s time, I feel like I’m falling for him.
No one else at the office is fawning over him.
I’m often worked up and overheated, carefully avoiding him and the topic of him because everyone calls him the devil.
They complain about not knowing what’s going to happen and how they think every task is in preparation for someone else to take over. Then there’s me. I can’t stop thinking of how he put that ice between my legs, and the soft groans that he makes when he fucks me on his desk. Purposefully avoiding the obvious and doing everything I can not to worry. Because he told me not to, even though all signs point to the company being sold off.
It’s all ridiculous and overwhelming. If I wasn’t fucking him, I might have quit already … well, not if I couldn’t take the clients with me. Maybe. I don’t know. Like I said, it’s all too overwhelming, so I choose to believe him. I’m doing everything I can to listen and not worry.
With my fingers tapping aimlessly on the keys, I have to snap myself out of it. Not that it matters; we’re on a freeze with clients this week. I could lose my shit and it wouldn’t make a difference in productivity. The only work that’s getting done is paperwork and severance packages. I could be a nervous wreck like the rest of the office, or I can fantasize about the clock turning six.
Every day, I rock back and forth between the two of them.
A light knock at my door takes me out of my thoughts. A young brunette in joggers and a flowy tank stands in my doorway.
“Maddie,” I say, greeting my friend for lunch. “I was wondering when you were going to get here.” My chair rolls to the left as I push my keyboard to the side to make room for takeout.
Passing me a brown paper bag she sighs and says, “Sorry. Traffic was hell.”
She’s gorgeous, as she always is, but there’s a sad curve to her mouth. “You okay?”
She takes the seat across the desk from me and opens her bag in her lap, waving me off with the other hand. “I think I need a man or a really good vibrator.”
