by Nikki Bopp
“Close the door,” leaning forward in his chair, he clenches his hands together in front of him, the muscles in his forearms standing out against the pale white of his shirt. I've never seen the man wear anything else except for a perfectly white button-up and a black or blue suit. No amount of accessories or fanfare to be seen.
Swallowing thickly, I do as he says and take a seat in front of his desk, my hands wringing in my lap. “Yes, Mr. Price.”
Daniel rolls his eyes at my words, “Will you call me Daniel, I hate to be called Mr. Price.” I give him a silent nod, which only seems to annoy him, his eyes narrowing on my face. “When I'm speaking to you, I expect you to speak back to me.”
“Y-yes, Daniel. I understand.” My voice quivers, my thighs following in its path. Daniel Price is undoubtedly a powerful individual, it's in every piece of him, but hearing the commanding tone, the dark look in his eyes, I can't help but feel turned on. Jonathan was never a dominant man in the bedroom, more of a 'me, myself, and I' type of person. He didn't care to make demands, to care if I enjoyed myself. The gleam in Daniel Price’s dark gaze makes me feel as though this man knows exactly how to make a woman beg, to make a woman feel every bit of pleasure she can handle before demanding more.
“I wanted to discuss your work this week,” Daniel continues making me shake myself from my lustful thoughts. Work, Jenny. We’re here for work.
“Okay. Is there something you think I can improve on?”
“I think you're doing fantastic,” his words surprise me, my jaw-dropping in a bit of shock. Daniel stands to round the desk, leaning back with a rare smile. “You've been here less than a week, and you've already taken over several of Ingrid’s duties. Your ability to anticipate what we need is astounding, and I'm not going to mention all the things Ed and Pat raved about to me.”
“Wow. I didn't realize...I'm glad that you feel I’m meeting your expectations. I've really been impressed with how well PRI is run, not just by you, but by the different levels of management. There is such a level of professionalism that is refreshing.”
“I'm thrilled to hear that. I want you to tell me if anyone ever steps over a line or makes you feel uncomfortable. I work my ass off to make sure this is a safe environment, and I know for sure that Pat does the same.” Reaching out, Daniel lays his hand atop mine, still clenched in my lap. “I just wanted to make sure that you know how much we appreciate you and all that you do.”
His hand is large, engulfing mine in his callused grip. The skin is tan in comparison to mine, a spattering of scars visible through the sprinkle of hair. Staring at our clasped hands, I can feel my body heat at his touch alone, almost as though we know who could truly own us body and soul. And isn't that a terrifying thought? I left a man set on controlling me, only to find myself in the crosshairs of a man just as demanding and domineering. He may not be Jonathan, but what's the difference?
Jolting from my chair, I take a step back to put the piece of furniture between us. “Thank you, Mr. Price. I best get back to my desk, lots of work to be done before the weekend.”
“Absolutely,” Daniel answers, clearing his throat he gestures towards the door. Following behind me, he holds the door open, so I can pass through. I try not to look at him, but I never claimed to have self-control. The heated gleam in his eye makes another flush run through my body, this time heading south and drenching my panties. Just what I need, working in wet underwear.
Chapter 10
Secret Admirer
“Hey! Are you ready to go?” Hopping from foot to foot, Mia is a bundle of excitement that I can't help but smile at. Getting off work an hour early is always a reason to be happy, but it looks like someone really needs a drink. Linking my arm through hers, we join the flood of people rushing out the doors in search of their weekend. Mia pulls me off to the right with a group of at least ten other people, all of them strangers to me, but that's not surprising given I just started. Some of them give me an interested look but quickly turn away at my raised brow.
When I was younger and more worried about what others thought, I would have simply smiled back and left it at that. Having been through the shitter and raised a daughter in the midst of it all, I don't really feel the need to entertain rude people who don't seem to know how to control themselves. Staring is never kind.
“So,” Mia starts making me shake myself from my pissing contest. “How is Eva doing at her daycare?”
“She's doing great! She really loves it there, and she's made so many friends.”
“That's awesome! But I wouldn't expect anything less. She's such a great little girl, it's amazing that you actually raised her!” Huffing out a laugh, I jab my finger into her side, making her scream in surprise. “Stop! You know I hate that!” Mia’s most ticklish spot has always been her ribs, and she knows how much I will exploit that knowledge. She smacks me in the shoulder as retribution but gives me a smile, so I know she's just kidding.
“Come on,” tugging me behind her, we follow the flow of people into the ‘little pub,’ which turns out to basically be a Buffalo Wild Wings but Irish themed. “You find a table, and I’m going to go get us some drinks.” Before I can respond, she's gone. I can just barely make out the top of her head weaving through the people crowded around the bar. Luckily, I'm able to find a table right next to the doorway.
“Jennifer,” Nicholas smiles at me and slides into the seat across from me. “I didn't expect to see you here.”
“Why do you say that?” I'm honestly confused about why someone would think that. Do I give off an ‘I don't like alcohol vibe’? I'm a mother, it's pretty much a necessity to survive a hard day sometimes.
“Never mind that. Did you get the little gift I left for you?”
“You-,” my words are cut off by Mia arriving at our table, an annoyed expression on her face upon seeing Nicholas in her seat. Nicholas was the one that left me the gift? I never would have thought he was interested, especially being the head of HR. I'm sure there's something in the employee handbook about dating each other. He’s certainly not bad looking, and he obviously has been paying attention to get me something that he knows I’ll wear. Plus, it's my favorite color. How did he learn my favorite color? Perhaps Mia told him.
“Ahh, Mia. I should have figured you wouldn't be too far behind.” What the hell is that supposed to mean? Rather than answering, Mia hands me a glass of ice-cold beer, sliding into the seat to my right.
“Nicholas, I'm not surprised that you're here at all. This one is taken so bugger off.” Mia’s words are thick with venom and startling as hell. On Monday, you never would have figured there was any animosity, but sitting between them, I feel like someone is about to get their head ripped off, and I really don't want it to be me. Her words are even more confusing because we both know that I most certainly am not ‘taken,’ the exact opposite actually. I think it's safe to say she didn't tell him what my favorite color is.
There's obviously something going on between these two, so rather than getting involved, I turn my attention to my beer. Usually, I'm not a big fan of beer, but I could probably blame that on Jonathan again. He preferred hard liquor to beer and would scoff at me anytime I asked for a beer.
‘Women are supposed to drink cocktails,’ he liked to say as though all women are the same. I hate hard alcohol, mainly because every time he drank it, I usually ended up with a spattering of bruises on my body. It was tiring trying to continually hide them from everyone.
Drawing the cup closer, I take a long gulp of the cold beer, and then another.
“Holy hell Jenny,” Mia exclaims, watching me with wide eyes. Confused, I look down at the glass to find my ‘long gulp’ entailed three-fourths of the entire glass. Giving her an unashamed shrug, I finish off the rest before turning a narrowed glare on her suddenly innocent face.
“Now, are you going to tell me what the hell that was?” My empty cup waves between the seat Nicholas was sitting in, and Mia’s slumped form. I didn’t even notice him le
aving. She grumbles under her breath, knowing I won’t be able to hear her anyway.
“I'm going to go get another beer while you figure out how to word it.” Without waiting for an answer, I grab my purse and make my way to the less crowded bar. The place is jam-packed, and it's obvious that almost everyone is from PRI. I don't know if it's a good thing or not that so many people need a drink after work.
“Another one,” I call to the bartender, holding up my empty glass. He gives me a nod and starts to pull another draft.
“I wouldn't have figured you for a beer drinker,” a familiar voice precedes the warmth of his body when it sidles closer to me. “I would have guessed a martini or cosmopolitan.”
Edward’s words seem to hit that perfect cord inside of me that sends me from calm and happy to pissed off in one second flat. Giving him a strained smile, I grab my beer when it's set down on the bar, tossing a couple of bills in its place before making my way back to our table. Edward, even being the smart man that he is, does not catch the hint and follows on my heels like a devoted little dog. A dog I kind of feel like kicking at this very moment. What is it with men and assuming that women only drink fruity little cocktails?
“What do you want?” My feet fall like cement bricks, halting my progress so I can round on his with a pissed-off expression.
“Uhh…,” obviously confused about my hostility, Edward looks around us like someone is going to intervene and help him from the woman that barely reaches his shoulders. “I was just saying hello.”
“Hello,” I reply, giving him a curt nod and moving to continue on my path to Mia. Edward’s hand on my arm stops me, a slosh of beer splattering across the front of my blouse and the wooden flooring.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen.” Grabbing a handful of napkins at the bar, Edward offers them to me with an apologetic smile. “I saw you with Mia and thought I’d say hello, but I get the feeling I upset you.”
Entirely ignoring his unspoken question, I attempt to dry off as much of the liquid as possible. The last thing I need is to show up at daycare, smelling like a vat of alcohol. It's not like Edward could have known what his words would do to me, there's no way he knew how hurtful they are.
“I'm sorry,” balling the wet napkins in my hand, I force my eyes to meet his green ones. “I shouldn't have reacted that way. I-I just had someone tell me what to do for years, and he loved telling me what was appropriate for a woman.”
“Well, I'm not him. I don't give a shit what you drink, I just didn't see you as a beer drinker. It was wrong of me to assume, and I should have kept my mouth shut. Please forgive me.”
“It's alright, Mr. Maccini.”
“When are you going to stop calling me that,” rolling his eyes dramatically, he gives me one of his award-winning smiles. “How about I buy you another drink since you poured yours all over yourself.”
“Yeah,” the cold beer certainly doesn't help with the chill of the room. I can already feel the stickiness on my chest, the fabric of my shirt and bra sticking uncomfortably to me. “I guess I could go for another one.”
“Are you sure Mia won't mind me stealing you away?” We both turn in sync to look at our table. Mia is animatedly talking on her phone, almost yelling, given the hands flailing around her with her words.
“No, I think she's a little preoccupied right now.” Edward nods at my words and gestures to a couple of seats at the bar. Ever the gentleman, he waits until I’m seated before taking his own.
“So, a beer it is?” The curve to his luscious mouth is pure sin and makes it hard to pull myself from the gutter. Edward is undoubtedly a lucky man if the rest of his body is just as delectable.
“Yes, please,” twisting on the barstool until our knees nearly touch, I smile to myself when he waves down the bartender with a silent wave. After ordering our drinks, he gives me a bemused expression.
“Why are you smiling like that? Do I have something on my face?”
Ignoring his question entirely, I take a drink of the beer as soon as it's put in front of me. “How did you meet Mr. Roswell?”
“Patrick?” Scratching his chin, the rasp of his beard is loud to my ears, the image of dark nights and even darker thoughts permeating every pore. “Daniel and I have been best friends since we were little. Patrick was the new kid at school, and Daniel decided that we were going to be best friends. And that's that.”
“That's it? Daniel just says it is, and so it is?”
“Yeah, I mean, have you met the man? He's the epitome of control. I can't say I blame him because Patrick was on track to trouble.”
“Patrick Roswell?”
“Yep.”
“No way, he's such a sweetheart!” The drink that Edward had just taken dribbles down his chin when he attempts to keep himself from laughing. Coughing harshly, he leans back in his chair and gasps for air as soon as he's sure he's not going to drown himself.
“Sorry!” I apologize through a giggle, hiding my smile behind my drink. I don't want him to think I'm making fun of him, men have a thing about that.
“No, no,” Edward shakes his head, his hands waving between us and causing another round of laughter. “It's just that I've never heard anyone refer to Patty as ‘a sweetheart.’”
That doesn't make sense. Relationships aren't always amazing one hundred percent of the time, but if your significant other isn't a sweetheart to you at one point, then what the hell is the point. I stayed in a relationship for years, and not once did I think of Jonathan as a sweetheart, but at least I knew how much of a jackass he was, and I chose to stay because of Eva. She deserves a better life, a life filled with love and happiness.
Thinking of what we’ve gone through, and the beautiful little girl who owns my heart, my mood immediately sours. I shouldn't be here having fun without her. She's been through the wringer, and such a tiny heart deserves every bit that I have to give.
“Hey,” Edward’s voice makes me jump, his face etched with concern. “Are you alright?”
I quickly blink away the tears I can feel building up and offer a small smile, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just missing my daughter.” Picking up my purse, I start to pull out a handful of bills, but I’m stopped by Edward’s hand on my own.
“I've got this, my treat for surviving the first week. Go on, have a good weekend with your daughter.”
“Thank you, Edward,” without thought, I lean forward and give him a side hug before rushing to the door. Only when I've pushed it open, do I remember that Mia came with me but when I look over to our table, it's to find it empty. She must have had something come up, not surprising given the heated conversation she was having.
Shrugging, I push open the door to a torrent of rain, which immediately soaks me to the bone.
“Miss Jenny!” A familiar voice calls, but between the rain and the hair glued to my face, I can't see anything. Pushing the hair from my eyes, I try to use my purse as a sort of umbrella that offers enough relief from the rain to see the outline of Wyatt and the black SUV sitting across the street. Without thought, I lurch forward off the curb, my ankle twisting uncomfortably at impact. Releasing a gasp of pain, I only have a moment to look up at the squeal of tires and blare of a horn.
I must have blacked out because the next time I open my eyes, it's to the beautiful blue sky above. The fluffy white clouds and complete sense of peace are confusing as hell, considering I'm pretty sure it was just raining cats and dogs. When I attempt to turn my head to look around me, I'm surprised that I can't move it at all. Panic begins to leach into my blue-skied day. Why can't I move? Where am I? Where is Eva? Thinking of Eva sends me into even more distress, my body begins to shake with terror. Just before I’m about to completely lose myself into a hysterical meltdown, a familiar face appears over mine.
Pushing his glasses up his nose, Patrick’s mouth moves as though he is speaking to me, but there is no sound coming from his mouth. Furrowing my brow in confusion, I try to shake my head before remembering that it
won't move. The panic that had momentarily dissipated upon seeing Patrick rushes back with a vengeance. This time, I don't try to stop the tears when they pool in my eyes.
Grabbing my face, Patrick leans down until our noses are nearly touching, my entire being seeming to fall into the dark azure depths of his eyes. Like a rolling wave, my body stills under his will. Pulling back so I can see his entire face, he attempts to speak again, but just like last time, there is no sound.
What if it's not him? What if I’m the reason there's no sound. Seattle is a bustling city, and even on the calmest of days, there is always sound. From cars to people, to goddamn annoying pigeons.
Another face joins Patrick, this one a stranger. His face is clean-shaven and pulled tight with worry. The white shirt he's wearing displays an EMT badge on his chest and only confirms my fears. His mouth moves, the silence almost deafening in its heaviness.
“I-I can't hear you,” I speak the words, but still, there is no sound. I can feel the vibration in my throat, I know that I'm talking, but there's nothing. The tears begin to flow faster at the implications. The lines on the EMT’s face deepen, and with a nod, he disappears from sight, leaving me alone with Patrick. Well, I assume alone, given that I can't see or hear anyone around us.
“Eva,” I push out through my tears, not even sure if my words are making any sense. “My daughter,” I say louder and watching the comprehension dawn on his face. Patrick looks over his shoulder, his throat moving as he talks to someone outside of my view. When he turns back around, he holds his finger up for me to wait. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he fiddles with it for a moment, his fingers moving over the screen with lightning speed. I assume he was texting someone, but when he holds it up for me to read, I can only cry harder and attempt to nod my head.