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When I’m alone, I pat my chest.
“Coach Hottie McHotterson is what they should call him,” I mutter, and then step out of the elevator when it stops on the top floor.
My heels click on the tile floor as I make my way down the hallway to my office. All the administration has offices up here, along with publicity, accounting, and HR. We also have a huge conference room where we hold most of our meetings, but the press room is on the main floor. I’m in the corner, with a great view of Lake Washington. My office is big enough to house my own workout equipment of its own, but where would the fun be in that?
When I pull my phone out of my bag, I see that I have a missed call from my brother, so I give him a quick call as I boot up my computer and long for a cup of coffee.
“Are you in the office today?” Rome asks when he answers.
“I’m in the office most days. What’s up? Are you stopping by?”
As the CEO of several companies of his own, Rome keeps an office in downtown Seattle, but sometimes he stops by headquarters. Mostly, he goes to the games, brings the woman of the moment and some friends, and has fun in the owner’s box.
Which is fine by me. One of us should be at the games, and I can’t make them.
I have a son who needs me, and I’m doing my damnedest to keep him out of the public eye.
“Probably not today, but I’ll do my best to be at Caleb’s soccer game on Saturday. That’s tomorrow, right?”
“Yes, tomorrow is Saturday. He’d like that. Why did you need to know if I’m at the office?”
“Dad was asking me this morning over our breakfast meeting.”
I scowl. “Why would he want to know?”
“Couldn’t tell you. I didn’t ask. Anyway, I have to get to a meeting. Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Rome ends the call before I can, and I sit back in my chair, frowning.
I don’t have a tight relationship with my father for a myriad of reasons. We don’t hate each other, and we’re not estranged. We just don’t see eye to eye on much of anything, so we avoid each other.
It’s worked for more than a decade.
So, I have no idea why he’d ask Rome if I was in the office today. Besides, why wouldn’t he simply pick up the phone and ask me himself?
And then I smirk at myself and sign into the computer.
Because it’s mydad.
Blowing out a breath, I stand and poke my head out of my office, looking for my assistant, Louise, but she’s not at her desk. That doesn’t bother me much because I can fetch my own coffee, so I walk down the hallway to the employee lounge and stop short.
Louise is lying back on a table, her skirt shoved up around her hips, her purple panties hanging from one foot, and her hands gripping onto a pale white ass as she’s ridden hard.
Not at all embarrassed, I lean on the doorjamb, my arms folded over my chest, and wait for them to finish.
“Oh, fuck yeah. I love it when the boss doesn’t show up,” Louise announces, digging her nails into that white flesh. “I wish shenevercame in.”
Wondering idly if I should shoot Louise’s husband an email, I examine my nails and realize that I need a manicure.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” Patrick, one of our publicists, groans. “God, your pussy is so good.”
“It’s all yours.”
Not wanting to stand here all damn day, I finally clear my throat, which has them scrambling. Patrick pulls out and fumbles with his pants. Louise falls off the table, seeming to grapple with her panties while pulling her skirt down, and when they turn toward me, their eyes are huge, and Louise’s cheeks are flushed.
Whether it’s from the sex or embarrassment, that remains to be seen.
