His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection)

by Melanie Marchande

  First things first, though. I have to take Meg’s father out for a drink.

  His name, I learn, is Chuck. He seems more nervous to meet me than I am to meet him, which speaks volumes.

  He’s tall and lanky, with close-cropped gray hair and tired eyes. There’s a heavy sense of guilt that hangs over him like a storm cloud, even as he sips on his beer and tries to make small talk.

  We make it through half an hour of pleasantries before he starts subtly questioning me about my intentions. I know the tone. Believe it or not, he’s not the first suspicious father I’ve dealt with, although it’s been a few decades. I don’t like his tone, and I don’t like the way he seems to be talking around the issue of her weight, as if he thinks I haven’t noticed.

  "Look,” I tell him, after the fifth veiled insinuation that I’m just using her somehow. “You're her father. You were here first. I respect that, I really do. I fully acknowledge that, at some point, you deposited your sperm inside that hellbeast she calls a mother, and the result was a woman that I love very much. More than I ever thought I could. And I appreciate that. I really do. The thing is, somewhere between then and now, you let her down. I'm not saying that to send you on a guilt trip, I'm saying it because I want to make something perfectly clear. If you hurt her again, I won't be responsible for my actions. You should have protected her. That was your job. Now, it's fallen to me. And I don't plan to let her down. Not now, and not ever."

  He just stares at me for a minute, totally silent. I think there’s a chance he might punch me, but impulsive actions don’t seem to be his style.

  "I hope you never have to know what it feels like to be a failure as a parent," he says, quietly, at last. "It happens faster than you think. More quietly. Everybody thinks you have to say the wrong thing, or make some terrible mistake. But all I had to do was nothing. All I had to do was ignore and pretend and lie to myself. It was easy. Doing nothing is always easy, and then one day you wake up and realize you’re just as bad as the person who was doing all the horrible things you ignored.”

  I swallow hard. “I’m not saying I’ll be perfect. But I know Meg will be a good mother.” I glance at him. “I suppose I have you to thank for that.”

  Chuck smiles, wryly. “I don’t know about that.” He picks at the label of his beer bottle. “She’s so much stronger than I ever was. I have no idea how or why, but I guess I’m selfishly hoping that she still needs me, somehow. Otherwise I’ve lost my chance to make it up to her.”

  “I think you’ll still have a chance,” I tell him. “I have a plan - of course it’s all predicated on whether she says yes.”

  He sets down his bottle. “I’m listening.”

  Eight Months Ago

  It doesn’t take me as long to find a women’s clothing store near the conference hotel as I would’ve guessed.

  After Meg’s wardrobe malfunction, I feel honor-bound to help her out. And that means buying her some practical panties that aren’t going to fall off at the first sign of a stiff breeze.

  Not that I have any complaints.

  Was last night a bad idea? Probably. As much as I'd like to tell myself it was a one-night stand, or just a conference thing, I know it can't be put to rest that easily.

  I always thought she would be a bit of a hellcat in bed - or bent over the sofa, as the case may be - but she completely blew my mind. From the way she reacted to my spanking to the moment when she begged me to "mark my territory" as I loomed over her with my surging cock in my hand, it was so far beyond my fantasies that I could hardly believe it was real.

  But no, I wasn't that drunk. Besides, when I left this morning, she was curled up against me in bed, still wearing my discarded shirt. It barely covered her at all, which was just a bonus.

  It was funny. After we showered together and got about as thoroughly debauched as we possibly could without props from the hardware store, there was no question of her going back to her own room. She climbed into bed with me like we'd been doing it for years, and it didn't even strike me as odd until I was almost asleep.

  Sex is just sex, except when it isn't. And when it comes to Meg and me, there's just too much history to pretend we could ever untangle it.

  Over the years, I've managed to successfully compartmentalize my feelings for her, more or less. Even while we fucked, even while we cuddled in bed, I kept them in check. There was a time when I wouldn't have been able to. There was a time when I couldn't have hidden it from her, when she would've seen it in my eyes even if I could've kept my mouth shut. But now, I've come to accept the fact that we're never going to be together. She's...just too much her, and I'm too much me.

  Too many times, I've ignored her needs. Hurt her feelings. She'll never see me as anything but That Asshole Boss, and I can't let myself forget that. Even though she clearly has some fond feelings towards me, they don't erase everything else.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  Right. Panties.

  I could've warned her against those silky ones. They're meant for occasions when you only plan to wear them for a few minutes, at most. A lush body like hers can't be contained in a smooth, slippery fabric. Still, I suppose I have those ridiculous things to thank for giving me courage last night. Even with all the jealousy surging through me, I wouldn't have been able to make a move if it weren't for her panties in my pocket.

  Until then, I really thought the pool thing was just a blip. A glitch in the matrix. She snapped so quickly back to her normal self, slightly disdainful, aloof, acting like she hadn't shoved my hand into her open blouse just moments before.

  That moment, that breathtaking moment, when I watched her roll her pantyhose down and I realized she was actually going to take me up on my dare to get in the pool...that was the first time, I suppose, that I was actually candid with her about my desire. I couldn't help it. I knew if I got a look at her, half-dressed and soaking wet, but wasn't allowed to touch, it might actually drive me all the way out of my entire mind.

  An inexplicable magnetism drew us together, but our pride let us drift apart.

  I'm not letting that happen again. Who knows how she'll act once we get back home - but for now, maybe just for this week, she's mine.

  I plan to take full advantage of it.

  "Is there a way to complement a woman on her oral sex skills that isn't also insulting?" I ask her, as we lie in bed together. "Because I'm coming up blank."

  "Since when do you care about insulting me? Just say I'm a champion cocksucker, I'll take it in the spirit in which it's intended." She grins at me, and I remember why I fell for her in the first place.

  I shake my head. ”I’m not saying that. But seriously, well done."

  "I just do what I feel. Your story was very inspiring." She nestles against me and I put my arm around her, because, what the hell. Might as well keep on pretending. It’s harmless - right?

  “Thanks. I’ve been told I weave a pretty good tale, but authors don’t usually get the benefit of instant feedback in the form of an enthusiastic blowjob.”

  “Really? That’s a shame. Somebody should institute a program. Oral sex for prose. I might even put pen to paper for that.”

  “Oh, you can have as many freebies as you like from me.” I grin. “I’m low-maintenance. Incoherent moans are enough to keep me coming back.”

  “As many as I like? Really?” She grins, and my heart beats faster for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with her hand resting on my thigh.

  Shit, I’m in trouble.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  MEG

  “I have to ask you something.”

  Adrian’s just switched off the light, which suggests this is either something very serious, or very sexy. His tone suggests the former.

  “Yeah?” I roll over to face him. His eyes glitter in the semi-darkness. I always sleep with a nightlight. He never did, until I moved in.

  “Two things, actually.” He exhales slowly. “First - on a scale of one to ten, how strange woul
d it be for me to suggest that we do the wedding thing over again? I mean, with everybody who couldn’t come - and your father - and anyone else we meet between now and then who seems like they’d be fun at a party?”

  “Um…” I giggle softly, unsure if he’s being totally serious. “I don’t know?”

  “I don’t mean to imply that I didn’t like our first wedding,” he says. “But I want to give you the wedding you really deserve, and I’m given to understand that takes time. And planning. And all kinds of things I didn’t know anything about, until I made the mistake of Googling it.”

  Now I’m really laughing. “Are you seriously talking about, not only getting married twice, but planning our wedding yourself?”

  “God no.” He sounds horrified. “I’ll hire someone for that. But - I suppose I wouldn’t mind being in charge of the decision-making, unless that would upset you.”

  “Hell, Ryn, I wasn’t upset by a pawn shop engagement ring.” I consider this for a second. “I mean, it’s weird, but you always seem to know what I want, even before I figure it out. So, sure. Knock yourself out.”

  He chuckles. “Most people wouldn’t be so calm about that realization, you know.”

  “Hey.” I kiss him, briefly. “There was never any question of my head being screwed on straight, so I’ll take being one-half of a dysfunctional pair that still manages to get shit done.”

  “I’m glad you brought that up,” he says. “Segues nicely into my next question. Which is - what do you think about me going back to Risinger Industries?”

  A lot of things, as it happens. I try to organize my thoughts before I open my mouth, which has always been a challenge when it comes to him. “I, um…I don’t know. What do you think about it?”

  “I think I might do it,” he says, slowly. “But running a company by myself was never all that much fun. I talked to them about the possibility of appointing joint CEOs, which they were a little bit hesitant about - but at the end of the day, they trust my judgment. The numbers don’t lie - the company can’t thrive without me.” He exhales softly. “Without us.”

  It takes a second for that to sink in. “Wait…who’s us?”

  The shadows from the nightlight play across his face as he smiles.

  “No,” I blurt out, without thinking. “Stop it. You’re so full of shit.”

  He sighs dramatically. “Oh, Meg. How can I ever make you believe that I’m sincere?”

  “Well, stop talking complete bullshit, for one.” My heart’s thumping harder than when he asked me to marry him. Which is…okay, maybe that’s not so strange after all. Because a proposal, I kind of expected, eventually. But this? He wants me to run his company with him?

  This is total insanity.

  “I’m a secretary,” I remind him.

  He grins.

  “Administrative assistant,” he corrects me.

  “The board is not going to agree to this,” I point out. “They think I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, not running a company.”

  “Can’t you be both?” He says. “Ow. Maybe you should take it easy on the kickboxing classes.” He rubs his bicep.

  “Maybe you should take it easy on running your mouth,” I suggest.

  “Never!” he declares. “So…is that a yes? No? Maybe?”

  I just laugh. “Ryn…I don’t know, are you really asking me this?”

  “Of course I am,” he says, his tone turning serious. “You’re strong and you’re brilliant and you’re smart. This whole mess just proved that even more. Not that I needed any convincing. I’ve always known you belonged somewhere you’d be appreciated, where you could really shine, but you never saw it. Maybe now you can understand - at least a little bit?”

  I’m shaking my head, laughing a little and feeling bad about it because he’s so sincere. But it all feels like one big practical joke. Me, next to Adrian, at the head of Risinger Industries?

  “Nobody would take me seriously,” I point out.

  “You wouldn’t give them a choice.” He smiles. “Come on, Megs. I don’t want to do this alone.”

  Looking at his face, he really doesn’t. For all our roleplay, there’s no part of him that wants to go back to the way things were.

  Not that they would be - I’ll never be his secretary again.

  “We’ll get sick of each other,” I tell him. My protests are feeling increasingly futile, but I have to try.

  “We probably won’t spend as much time together as you think,” he says, stroking my hair. “There were plenty of times I wanted to clone myself, back in the bad old days. With two of us, we can split our time. The senior partners won’t be able to say no.” Kissing my forehead, he sighs a little. “Just think about it. Promise me you’ll think about it. I don’t mind keeping them waiting, but I think what you said was right. I need it. I need the structure. But I’m a shit CEO without you. I don’t want to run your life…”

  Here, I just giggle. I can’t help it.

  “I know, I know,” he demurs, shaking his head a little. “I know. But I really - I honestly don’t. If I thought this would make you miserable, I wouldn’t even ask. But you’re a shark, darling. You might as well face it. Think of how much we could accomplish if we’re fucking instead of fighting.”

  “Instead of?” I snort. “I didn’t realize that was an either-or proposition. I think we’re doing it wrong.”

  He’s oddly quiet, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m missing something important. “I don’t get it,” I confess. “Are you that desperate to have me with you? I know I said I wouldn’t be your secretary again, but I could come and hang out at lunch if you get lonely.”

  “It’s not that,” he insists. “When I used to ask your opinion and get you to help me on proposals and strategies, I wasn’t just fucking around. You made me better. You said things that made me think about things differently, and I realized…” he hesitates. “I realized it wasn’t my father’s company anymore. It was mine. I lost sight of that after I fired you, and it wasn’t until recently that I realized the obvious connection.

  “I could never be good enough for him. And I always wondered…I never could figure out how he got everyone to just treat him like a boss. He was a bully, and I never quite had his talent for that. But smart people - people like Cora - still respected his authority, even if they didn’t like him.”

  Cora. He’s hardly mentioned her name since she passed away so suddenly, years ago. I know he was devastated. I could see it in his face when he walked into the board meeting, but he couldn’t show it to the senior partners.

  Admitting to them that he needs help running the company is more of a weakness than he’s ever shown. I may not understand it, but I know it’s flattering.

  “You still miss her,” I say, softly. It’s a statement, not a question.

  He nods, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

  “I’ll think about it,” I promise him.

  I think and think for a long time.

  Risinger Industries still towers above the other buildings on the block, so tall that it makes you dizzy to look at from the sidewalk.

  “Come on,” Adrian says, before he steps into the revolving door. I follow him, my heels clack-clacking on the marble floor. The new receptionist doesn’t recognize him, so we wait for her to call up and authorize our visit.

  It’s kind of funny, I think. But it doesn’t seem to annoy him.

  The elevator trip feels like it takes a thousand years, before we’re finally on the top floor, where I spent so many hours of my life. We go side by side down the hall, and despite his long stride, he actually makes an effort not to outpace me. Some things have changed.

  I feel like everyone’s staring.

  Does anyone here know? Did they see the same little news blurbs that my father did, or did the whole thing completely escape their notice? Is it even any of the same people I worked with before? I don’t dare look. After Adrian left that pink slip in my mailbox, I didn
’t think I would ever come back. I’m sure he thought the same thing, after he quit.

  Near the copy machine, we pause. It’s Steve.

  He looks up, and there’s that moment where his face registers surprise. His forehead wrinkles slightly, eyes narrowing, like he’s trying to figure out what the fuck we’re doing here.

  “Hi,” he says, slowly. “Meg. Mr. Risinger.”

  Steve’s eyes flick down to glance at our rings, I think, and then back up. And then he grins a little.

  “How’s everything?” I ask him, because I feel like I have to say something.

  “Same old, same old,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You?”

  “Got married,” I blurt out.

  Steve nods, slowly. “I heard,” he says. “Sorta surprised me, but uh…sorta not, at the same time.”

  Adrian just laughs. “That sounds about right.”

  We pass by Adrian’s old office, my old desk, on the way in to see the senior partners. I can’t help but notice that no one is sitting there. It doesn’t look like it’s been used in a while.

  The senior partners are waiting in the conference room, talking quietly amongst themselves as we walk in. I’ve submitted a few proposals for consideration, because I’ll be fucked if I’m getting this job based solely on my connections. I’m prepared to stand up for myself, to fight for recognition I never knew I wanted.

  I’ve already warned Shelly that I might have to cut back on my hours again, and I felt bad about it, because she kept talking about wanting to retire.

  “Honey, I’ve been talking about wanting for retire for twenty years now,” she pointed out. “If I suddenly decide to actually bite the bullet and do it, I’ll find a way to do it without putting you in charge.”

  This is oddly comforting. As much as I love the animals, I’m not cut out to deal with it full time, with all the heartbreak of the administrative work that goes on behind the scenes at a shelter. Tough decisions have to be made, and when it comes to anything with four legs and fur, I have trouble being tough.