“No need for that. I’m sure you are on top of it,” she sat down behind her desk as she cut him off. “In fact, since the Stevens-Walker merger is basically complete, I’m going to have you hand it over to Jeff and start on a new merger that I’m assigning you the lead on,” like ripping off a bandaid, she made the declaration fast and without hesitation. She clicked away at her computer, not making eye contact with Connor, continuing on with work as if she hadn’t just ruined his day.
“I would really rather wait until I have finished the project I’m working on,” his tone reflective of the scowl that permeated his usually jovial face. “You know I hate to leave anything unfinished.” Connor was curt but polite. He was irritated but professional.
“And usually I’d let you. But, this new client is major. Phillips, Morrissey & Tanner is acquiring Keiretsu International Holdings to add an Asian branch to their corporate litigation department. They’ve hired us to facilitate the transition.”
“And I would love to help them with that, after the seventh when I have finished with the Stevens-Walker merger,” Connor replied with a sly smile. The name Phillips, Morrissey & Tanner sounded familiar to Connor, but he didn’t take the time to search his memories for why. He was too focused on the fight at hand. Rebecca turned to face him finally, interlacing her fingers on her desk, squaring her shoulders, straightening her back, and staring straight at him, not returning his smile.
“If I thought it could wait until the seventh, I would consider it. Obviously since I have already made the decision to re-assign you,” she paused here for a moment to make it clear to him that while she usually indulged him, she was still his boss and she had made up her mind. “I don’t think it can. While everything points to a smooth transition since this is a mutually beneficial deal, those are usually the ones that go sideways. I’d take the devil I know any day. Right now both parties are being amicable, but you are the best I have and I need you to make sure it stays that way.” Rebecca was firm and even in her response.
“Who is the primary point of contact at each agency?” Connor asked with a sigh, not actually accepting his reassignment out loud. He knew any other push back he gave Rebecca was likely just going to be wasted energy.
“I am waiting on the contact for Keiretsu, but the Phillips, Morrissey & Tanner has assigned one of their senior associates to lead their team. Let me see, I have the e-mail here. Samantha Cane. I’ll send you her contact information. Please reach out to her immediately and get the introductions out of the way.”
Connor froze. His mouth sat open. He might think about Samantha Cane almost every day and google her with some regularity, but he hadn’t heard anyone else say her name in over a decade. He tried to remember to blink as he stared at Rebecca blankly.
“Connor? You okay?” Rebecca’s voice rang in his ears and he knew he should say something, but his brain was too busy trying to process what the last five minutes had meant.
“I can’t,” were the only words he was able to muster.
“I’m sorry. What do you mean you can’t?” Rebecca was losing her patience at this point. She was his boss after all and had made it clear this was her decision.
“Rebecca, listen. I just can’t take on a new project right now. I don't think you understand how much more is needed to close the Stevens-Walker deal,” he was stumbling over his words, fumbling to find an excuse that didn’t require him to explain his past with Samantha as memories of her started to flood into his mind. Samantha Cane. He remembered the way she smirked, the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, the way her lips tasted, how her naked body felt underneath his. He remembered every second of their nights together, including their last. A sharp pain hit him in the chest like a knife plunged deeply and then twisted.
“I don’t have time for this Connor. I know you hate leaving projects before they are complete, but quite frankly, this is non-negotiable.”
“Nothing is ever non-negotiable,” Connor tried his usual charm, knowing on Rebecca it wouldn’t go far.
“This is,” Rebecca didn’t budge.
“Rebecca, believe me when I tell you I am not the guy for this job,” a small note of desperation started to creep into Connor’s voice. It made Rebecca pause for just a moment. “I’m not...This isn’t…” Connor was at a loss for words. He refused to admit he had a personal issue with taking this project, with working with Samantha Cane, but he didn’t have any other excuse. He looked like he was just being difficult.
“Connor, unless you can give me a damn good reason why you can’t get this job done, this conversation is over,” Rebecca waited on Connor’s response, half curious, half irritated. He didn’t make one. He just dropped his head down and started at the floor, letting out a painful sigh, and sounding exhausted.
“Alright then. Hand over whatever is left of the Stevens-Walker merger to Jeff and get in touch with Ms. Cane.” There was the knife again, being twisted a little harder.
Connor skulked out of Rebecca’s office like a moody teenager. There didn’t seem to be any way around it. He was going to be seeing Samantha Cane. Soon.
Fuck Thursdays.
Chapter Three - The Beginning
Eleven Years Ago
The summer of Samantha’s junior year she had been selected for the state’s prestigious debate team. As far as high school extracurricular activities go, this was the cream of the crop. After this summer, she would be one step closer to her acceptance to Stanford. If she could get a letter of recommendation from the team’s coach, a Stanford grad himself, she would be basically a lock. This summer was crucial, an important step on her thirty year plan. High school valedictorian, Stanford for undergrad, top ten law school, ace the bar, kick ass in a prestigious law firm, make partner, rule the world, and live happily ever after. The fact that at seventeen Samantha had a thirty year plan, should tell you just about everything you would ever need to know about her. She was mature beyond her years to put it mildly. At nine she decided nicknames were for babies and she was an adult, so she insisted everyone call her Samantha. Any who called her anything else, teachers, classmates, even her friends, would be completely ignored. Her father was the only exception. She let him call her Sammie and only because he had given her the nickname when she was born, and therefore was grandfathered in. Her father had always been her favorite person in the world. She was an only child and he had been her first friend. Despite being exact opposites, they were two peas in a pod. He was easy, fun, and confident. He was the only person who was able to make her laugh when the self-doubt seemed like it would crush her, which was often. For as long as she could remember Samantha thought everything in her life was a test, a challenge. There was no middle ground, Samantha lived in absolutes. There was only success or failure.
Samantha had lots of friends, but none were very close. She would smile and joke, pretend to be easygoing, but no one really knew her. She preferred it that way. She was too driven to want the distraction of real relationships. She mostly felt school was something she just needed to get through. And get through it she would. She was the junior class president and had her eyes on the presidency for senior year. She had a 4.2 GPA thanks to several honors classes. SATs were in the bag. She had aced them last year. All signs pointed to Stanford, but for some reason that didn’t seem to take any of the pressure off. She felt like every day was an uphill sprint on uneven ground. One false step would send her tumbling back down. She had a few panic attacks last year during finals. It was never during any of the actual tests. She was fine once she had the pencil and paper in front of her. This was more like stage fright. It was the anticipation that killed her. She would spend hours the night before a test listening to the voice in the back of her head.
You aren’t good enough.
This is it. This is when everyone will find out you can’t hack it.
This failure is going to ruin the rest of your life.
That voice was the same one running through her head as she stood outside the
debate room, glued to her spot in the hallway, unable to move. She was having trouble taking a full breath. She had been given her first debate topic the week before. Is national security more important than personal privacy? She had been ecstatic when she got the topic, diving right into her research with a singular dedication. She had examples, quotes, and case studies all memorized. She had been rehearsing her opening remarks in her bathroom mirror all morning. She knew she could do this. But, then there was that voice. And it seemed to get louder the closer she stepped to the door.
You are going to forget everything as soon as you stand up!
You are going to look like a fool.
Logically she knew today was just a practice debate between teammates, a way for their coach to get to know their debate styles and evaluate their strengths. In her head, today was an interview for the life she wanted to have. It was the first of a string of dominoes that had to fall to keep her on her thirty year plan. She could feel the panic rushing over her as her heart started to speed up and her palms started sweating. She wanted to call her Dad for a pep talk, but she was too ashamed. She hated herself for not being in control. She hated herself for being weak.
“Hey, are you alright?” a deep voice called to her from the end of the hallway. Startled, she was momentarily pulled out of her self-loathing as she turned to face the source of the words.
Connor Grayson. She knew who he was even though they had never actually met. He graduated this year and had a full ride to UCLA for one of the sports he played. Samantha couldn’t remember which, but recalled something about there being a sports summer camp on campus during summer. They weren’t friends. They weren’t really anything. They were only a grade apart, but they lived in different worlds. They were both popular in their own way. Samantha was an academic, in lots of clubs, and knew lots of people. She took honors classes and worked in the student government. Connor was on basically every varsity sports team the school had and while he knew everyone in the school, he had a very close group of friends that he spent most of his time with. They had never spoken to each other, not because they didn’t like each other, but because they’d never had any reason to. They each existed happily in their individual worlds, which until now had never overlapped. The halls they separately walked for three years now brought them together, setting the stage for their first meeting. As she was still frozen in place, he walked up to her slowly, like an injured animal he was afraid of spooking.
He was beautiful, even in his gym shorts and sleeves cut off his t-shirt down to the bottom of his rib cage. It was a look Samantha never liked. If you don’t want your shirt to have sleeves, just buy a tank top! Judging by the sweat he had running down his chest, he had recently been working out. Her eyes traced over his body from his tan and muscular legs to his hard abs. When he pulled up the shirt to wipe a bead of sweat off his cheek, she let her eyes linger for a moment on newly exposed skin at his waist. The hint of a muscular V at his hips pointed down to the area Samantha wasn’t brave enough to look at even though she wanted to. Her eyes continued up to his thick arms and strong shoulders until they landed on his face. That was where she saw it. Pity.
His beautiful dimpled face showed nothing but a deep worry. This boy who had never said a word to her had nothing but pity for her. It confirmed everything that voice had said. Every tiny insecurity she ever had came rushing back to her. She wasn’t worthy of anything but pity and disdain. He was now right in front of her. She could smell the salty sweat on his skin mixed with the cool musk of his body wash as he reached out to touch her arm. Despite his alluring scent and the growing warmth on her skin in anticipation of his touch, she was absolutely furious at him and the pity in his eyes. This stranger had no right to judge her. He had no idea who she was or what she was capable of. She had to show him she was in control. She had to show herself she was strong. She had to prove she wasn’t what the voice of self-doubt kept telling her she was.
Without thinking she slapped away his outstretched arm. When her eyes met his there wasn’t an ounce of panic left, just a passionate fury. The flush on her cheeks and the intensity in her eyes made her so strikingly beautiful Connor let out a short gasp. He was suddenly unable to catch his breath. In the same heartbeat, Samantha grabbed his sweaty shirt, pulling him down onto her lips as she kissed him like she was a queen and he was her slave. She would dominate him, leaving no room for his pity or her doubt. She felt his arms wrap around her waist as his mouth opened, giving in to her. She slid in her tongue, owning every inch of him.
She broke away from his hold and looked up into his eyes again. They were silver pools filled with nothing but desire and it brought a wicked smile to her face. Lust had overtaken pity. With a fist full of his shirt still in her hand, she pulled him into the bathroom behind her. She wasn’t done with him yet.
Once inside, she reached behind him and locked the door. They were alone. She could hear the sound of his heart racing, his breath heavy and hot on her neck as she stood on tiptoes to whisper into his ear.
“Make me come.” It wasn’t a plea. It was a command. Three dirty little words she’d never said aloud before, much less to a living, breathing man whose tensed body was pressing against her own. Her entire sexual experience was limited to a few make-out sessions with some fully clothed body grinding. The words didn’t even sound like her own. She wasn’t even sure she knew what she wanted him to do. She didn’t have to. Connor was going to do as he was told.
Before Samantha had time to let the voice creep back into her mind, he wrapped her up in his arms and set her down on the edge of the counter stepping in between her legs, spreading them gently, while pulling her arms up around his neck. One of his hands slid up her body caressing her breast while the other slid up her skirt and tickled the inside of her thigh as his lips met hers with fervent devotion. Unable to control the excitement of being touched like this for the first time, she let out a soft moan. She could feel him getting hard against her thigh and it made her feel a kind of sexual power she’d never known before.
“Is this what you want?” he asked in a pleading whisper as he slipped his fingers inside her wet panties.
“Shhh. No talking,” she reprimanded him. She loved the sound of his deep sensual voice, but she didn’t want to ruin the moment with words. She wasn’t sure what spell had been cast to bring them here, to make her this woman, but she wouldn’t let any words come between them to break it. Instead, she answered his question by tightening her grip on the back of his neck, bringing his lips back to hers, and moaning against them as the heat started to build in waves across her body.
The excitement of her newfound sensuality and the bliss of his touch didn’t take long to bring her over the edge. She came in his arms, her raspy breaths against his lips, before melting into him. Any self-doubt died with the last strokes of his fingers. She asked him to make her come, but he did more than that. He made her feel powerful and deeply sexy.
She rested her forehead against his chest and let them stay connected for just a few breaths, what felt like only a heartbeat to Connor, before she pushed him away. In one motion she pulled down her skirt and strutted to the door. She paused for just a second to look back at him over her shoulder and with a seductive smile said, “Thank you. I think you might be my new lucky charm.”
And with that, Samantha Cane had left Connor Grayson standing alone in the girl’s bathroom with the biggest hard on of his life and a look of complete confusion on his face.
Chapter Four - The Aftermath
Eleven Years Ago
Samantha breezed into the debate hall like she was floating on air, without a care in the world, cheeks still glowing. Being with Connor had made her feel in control of her life for the first time. The release he gave her silenced that inner voice.
Unfortunately for her debate partner, it meant she was unbeatable. She destroyed him. She always had the knowledge necessary to win and Connor had given her the confidence to match it. They had been the second p
air of the class to debate and after mopping the floor with him she had been basking in the euphoria of her victory for the remainder of the day, barely listening to the other debates. Her mind was calm as she replayed the brutal defeat over and over in her head during the entire drive home, reveling in an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.
It wasn’t until she was back in her room, lying on her bed that she let her mind wander to what she had done with Connor. The whole day seemed like a dream. She could almost convince herself it was if the vividness of the memory didn’t still bring warmth to her thighs and a blush to her cheeks. How could she have done that? Why did he let her? What must he think of her? Samantha desperately wanted to confide in someone. She only had three friends she talked to outside of school, and never about anything like this.
Brent was her closest guy friend and even if she hadn’t been fairly sure he had a crush on her, he would not be someone she could confess a sexy tryst to. Kimberly was too much like Samantha, inexperienced and shy. She wouldn’t understand, must less provide any useful insight. Monica was the typically boy crazy friend. She had more boyfriends and more adventures than Samantha and Kimberly combined, not like that was saying much. Monica might have some experience about what it meant to be with a guy in that way. Samantha considered calling her for an hour or two, going as far as dialing her number a couple times only to flinch at the thought of how to start. Samantha desperately wanted to know what someone else would think of the whole thing. It felt like all the thoughts and questions circling around in her head were going to drive her mad.
The more she thought about telling anyone, the more it felt like no one except Connor, could tell her what it meant. More than any sense of embarrassment or the worry that Monica wouldn’t believe her, it was the unshakable feeling that she and Connor had shared something personal and private that kept her from calling. She imagined the conversation and having to say out loud those words again she’d whispered in his ear, describing the things they did together, seemed like a betrayal. A terrifying thought gripped Samantha at that realization. Did he feel the same way? Was he going to tell anyone? Had he already? The rest of Samantha’s restless night was spent wondering if she was going to be a joke to everyone she knew by morning after Connor told the story of their tryst to everyone they knew.
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