by B. B. Hamel
I sigh and turn to my meal.
This isn’t what I expected. He’s not at all what I expected. I thought I was in for an awkward dinner with an older guy that just wanted to talk about his old friend.
Instead, I’m getting a job with a rich asshole. What did my dad ever see in this guy?
Whatever it is, I’m going to find out.
2
Julian
Holy shit, Kevin’s little girl got fucking hot.
I keep laughing to myself over the next few days. I remember the skinny little girl, just a twig in shorts with long dark hair and a bored look on her face. I don’t know why, but I expected just a bigger version of that.
Except she’s not a little girl anymore. That was over ten years ago. Avery’s twenty-two now, a fucking woman more or less. I’ve dated plenty of women younger than her.
Well, okay. Not plenty. A few girlfriends have been twenty. One was nineteen, but I didn’t know she was nineteen until afterward, and I refused to see her again. Still though, twenty-two is only twenty years younger than I am.
Fucking shit. I guess I am pretty old.
I remember when Avery was born. Kevin was freaking the fuck out, worried that he’d be an awful dad. I dragged him to a bar for an hour, about a week after they got home from the hospital, just to get him out of his parenting fog for a few minutes.
“Julian, man, what the hell am I doing?” he asked me.
“You’re starting a family. It’s not the dumbest thing in the world.”
“You’re starting a business. I feel like I should be doing that.”
“You made your own choice,” I said back then and squeezed his shoulder. “You won’t regret it.”
Years later, I asked him if he ever regretted having a kid so young.
He said absolutely not.
That was the kind of guy Kevin was. Kind, compassionate, dedicated to his family. We lost touch because I’m a fucking asshole and I just drifted away from him. He had a different world, filled with a baby and a nine-to-five. I was busy building my business and fucking different women almost every night.
I wish I had reached out to him more. We saw each other a few times over the years, but not nearly enough.
I can’t even remember the last thing I said to him. Probably something stupid.
That’s not why I’m giving Avery a job, though. I mean, it’s part of it, obviously. I don’t think I’d be considering it if she weren’t Kevin’s daughter.
But making her my personal assistant is actually a selfish move. I planned on sticking her in the sales department or something like that, but as soon as I saw her…
I knew I needed to keep her close.
So I’m not surprised when she shows up Monday morning. I mean, she said she would, but there’s always a chance someone might back out at the last minute. Her mother made it sound like she needed a job, any job, but still. Being my personal assistant is a daunting task.
She probably has no clue what she’s getting herself into.
My receptionist, Marcy, lets her back into my office. “Avery,” I say, standing. “Good to see you.”
“Hi, Mr. White.”
I wince at that. “Call me Julian, please.”
“Okay.” She smiles sweetly at me. Her thick, dark hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail. She’s wearing dark jeans, a white shirt, and a gray blazer. The office is casual, so she’ll fit right in, especially with the younger folks.
Ah, hell. ‘Younger folks’. I really am getting old.
I walk around my desk and we shake hands. I still remember the hug I gave her, totally inappropriate, but shit. I couldn’t help myself.
She looked so fucking pretty that night.
And she still looks pretty. Her lips are full, and her eyes are sparkling green, just like her mother. There’s really not much of her father in her appearance at all, which is a big relief. He wasn’t all that pretty.
“Want to look around?” I ask her.
“Sure,” she says. “Looks like you’re still having some work done.”
I nod and lead her out into the main workspace. I introduce her to Marcy really quick, an older woman that’s been with me for a long time.
“We’re still getting set up,” I tell Avery. “Eventually, this is going to be the main workspace. Lots of desks and semi-open, but still enough privacy that we’re not all on top of each other.”
“Perfect,” she says. “I kind of hate that new open-plan thing.”
“Me too,” I say, laughing.
“I feel like people are always looking at my screen, even when I’m just doing normal work.”
“I’m more paranoid about them realizing how many games of Sudoku I play all day long.”
She grins at that. “Minesweeper for me.”
“Classic.”
“I like to keep it classic.”
I show her the conference rooms, the common area, the kitchens, and all the other boring bits of an office.
She stops in front of one door on the way past the bathrooms. “Lactation?” she asks, incredulous.
I laugh lightly. “You know, like breastfeeding? For the moms in the office.”
“Oh.” She turns bright red. “Are there many pregnant women?”
“Who knows.”
“And are people bringing their babies into work?”
“No clue.”
“So why have it?”
“Honestly?” I grin at her. “I have no idea. My architect and designer said we needed one, so I told him to go wild. Guess he did.”
She laughs a little nervously and I like the way she’s blushing. It’s pretty on her pale skin.
“Come on,” I say. “Let me show you where you can get set up.”
I lead her back through the main room, back toward my office. “You’ll be here,” I say, indicating a desk that’s facing my windows. “This way, I can just yell if I need anything.”
“Are you going to do a lot of that?” she asks, putting her bag down on the chair.
“Probably,” I admit. “I like to yell.”
“Tough boss.”
I laugh softly. “I can be a little hard sometimes, but I’m easy to please.”
“Yeah? How do I do that?”
I step closer to her, heart suddenly beating faster. “Just do whatever I ask without question.”
“Oh, sure. That’s easy enough.”
“If I want you to jump off a bridge, will you do it?” I ask, staring into her eyes.
“Only if you ask nicely.”
I smirk a little. “I never ask nicely. But I still expect you to jump.”
“I’ll jump.”
“Good.” I cock my head. “If I tell you to do something… strange. Will you do it?”
She glances around, trying to see if anyone can overhear. We’re mostly alone, although Marcy isn’t too far away.
“Strange… how?” she asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask you to pick up my dry cleaning. Maybe I’ll ask you to pose naked for me.”
“Pose… what?” Her eyes go wide.
“Maybe I’ll ask you to call me sir. Or maybe you’ll have to call me…” I stop myself, trailing off. She’s blushing and I don’t think she’s ready for that.
“I’ll do whatever you ask,” she says, almost a whisper.
I nod, a big smile on my face. “I thought so. You seem very willing to please.”
“Well, it’s the job. I always try and do a good job.”
“That’s what I like to hear. I knew I was making the right choice when I decided to offer you this position.” I step even closer to her. Now it’s slightly inappropriate, how close I’m standing, but she doesn’t pull away. “All you have to do is keep me pleased, Avery, and you’ll do fine. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try,” she whispers.
“Good.” I put my hand on the small of her back. I know I’m pushing it, but I can’t fucking help myself. “Get settled in. I’ll see you
later.”
I step away and walk back to my office. I’m smiling the whole time, my body buzzing with energy, my blood pumping desire.
Fucking hell, this is wrong. I know it’s fucked up. I mean, her dad just fucking died.
Well, it’s been nearly a year. It’s not like he died yesterday. And plus, she’s a grown ass woman.
She can make her own choices.
And I suspect, just based on the way she was looking at me and flirting right back, I suspect she’s going to make the right choice very, very soon.
3
Avery
That night after work, all I can think about is Julian.
I didn’t see him too much after his initial tour, but that moment is stuck in my mind. The way he stood so close, spoke so low, his hand on the small of my back…
And the things he said. Oh my god, I know it was totally inappropriate but for some reason, coming from him, I loved it.
I keep picturing myself stripping down at his command. This man is my dead dad’s old friend, I shouldn’t be thinking about this at all. And yet I can’t stop myself.
That night, I dream about Julian. I dream he brings me back into his office and spanks me, nice and rough, and ends up slowly sliding my pants down my body before…
I wake up, dripping wet, breathing deep and fast.
Of course, I can’t even seal the deal in my dreams. Even if I really, really want to.
Shit. This is going to be a problem.
I’m working with him, though. There’s nothing I can do about it but just try to keep things professional. At least, as professional as he wants them to be.
I shower, dress, and head into the office. Julian’s already there as I put my bag down and sit at my computer. He smiles at me through the glass and waves for me to come into his office.
“I have some tasks for you today,” Julian says to me as I stand in front of his desk.
“Okay,” I say. “What do you need?”
“I have a press release that needs to get mailed out. There are envelopes in the office and the release itself is being printed right now. I’ll email you the addresses.”
“Right,” I say, not sure why I feel disappointed.
He notices and raises an eyebrow. “What were you expecting?” he asks.
“I mean, I don’t know, nothing. That sounds good.”
“Stuffing envelopes isn’t fun, but it’s all I have for you right now.” He leans forward, a little smile on his lips. “Unless you’d rather try something a little more… personal?”
“I, uh… I don’t know.” I blink a little, heart racing. He’s flirting with me again, I’m definitely sure about that.
He laughs softly. “Never mind. No, you’re not ready. Go stuff those envelopes.”
I nod and hurry out of his office. I’m blushing like hell and I hope nobody else notices.
I grab the envelopes and the press release before heading back to my desk. I feel like he’s watching me as I pull up the emailed addresses and start to stuff envelopes, taking my time to write the addresses down as neatly as I possibly can.
That’s how I spend most of my morning. I look up from my desk once or twice and I catch him looking out at me. He doesn’t look away and doesn’t look ashamed that I’ve caught him staring at me, which just makes me blush again and go back to stuffing envelopes.
I don’t know what sort of game I’m playing with this man, but I can’t let that get to me. He’s just a friend of my dad’s, that’s all. He’s giving me a job because he feels bad for me, and fine, that’s whatever. I need the job so I’ll take what I can get.
But still, the way he talks to me, the way he looks at me…
It’s like he’s the kind of man that’s used to getting what he wants. It doesn’t matter what other people think, Julian gets whatever Julian wants. And for some reason, I find that insanely attractive.
My tongue is tired from licking envelopes by the time noon rolls around. Julian comes out of his office and walks over to my desk. He leans up against it and crosses his arms as I slide back in my chair to face him.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
“Not bad. Stuffing envelopes isn’t exactly fun, but I just finished.”
“Good,” he says. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”
He gets up without another word and I hurry to follow him. We stride through the office and down a back hall. He stops and turns to face the wall, gesturing at a large canvas hanging there.
It’s a strange painting, geometric lines and paint splatters. It looks like a Jackson Pollock mixed with some kind of electronic computer-generated shape. It’s honestly a little weird and I’m not sure I understand it.
“What do you think?” he asks.
“It’s… nice?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s awful.”
“No, it’s not awful. I just don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to get.” He sighs. “My designer said this was cool. It’s by some young artist in Brooklyn or some crap like that.”
“Was it expensive?” I regret the question as soon as it leaves my lips. “Sorry, that was rude.”
“It’s fine,” he says and sighs. “But yeah, it was expensive. My designer said it’ll be worth it, but honestly, I don’t know.”
“It’s a little hidden back here.”
“I know. I did that on purpose.” He sighs again. “I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Put it up front. Own it.”
He cocks his head at me. “I could do that.”
“I mean, I don’t know anything about art or whatever. But you spent the money, and I guess it’s cool looking… so you should just own it.”
“Yeah.” He nods to himself. “I think I can do that.”
We linger there for a minute, looking at the painting. The more I look at it, the more I actually start to like it. Maybe not love it, but just as a pretty thing… it’s not bad.
“Why’d you want to start a publishing company?” I ask him suddenly.
“I’m not sure,” he answers.
That surprises me. “Really? I mean, it’s not like book publishing is a hugely lucrative industry these days, so I figured it was a passion project.”
“It is,” he admits. “But I’m not really even that into art.”
“But you read?”
“Sometimes.” He grins. “Not as often as I want.”
“So you aren’t super into art and you don’t read that often. You don’t sound like the ideal person to run a book publishing company.”
“Right? But I don’t know. I’ve always been drawn to it for some reason. And I want to make actual things that people will actually enjoy.”
“I get that.”
“I should’ve gone into making movies. I watch plenty of movies.” He grins at me and leans against the wall, arms crossed. He cocks his head and looks at me. “What about you? Big reader?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I read a lot.”
“What sort of stuff are you into?”
I shrug. “Junk, mostly.”
“Oh, come on, tell me. This is market research. How do we sell books to young people?”
I grin at him. “Well, old man, first of all, we don’t read physical books that often.”
“Oh, really?” He arches an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of these newfangled electronic books, but I didn’t know the youth was interested.”
“Oh, yes, the youth loves electric books.”
“Seriously. What do you read?”
“Urban fantasy,” I admit. “You know, young girl finds out she had some kind of special magical powers and has to fight off some kind of supernatural demon or whatever. All set in a dark, gritty London.”
“Sounds fun.”
“It’s fun, but it’s trashy.”
He waves that away. “No such thing as trashy. People want to imagine some things are better for you than others, because it’s art or something like
that, but it’s all entertainment. I mean, how many people are reading these big idea books?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Unless Opera is recommending them, not many. I want to publish things people actually read.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He moves closer to me. “Maybe I need your brain more than I realized.”
“How?”
“I’m not a book expert. But you know something about it all, right?”
“I guess a little bit.”
“Good. I might have to pick your brain some more then.”
I feel a thrill run through me. The owner of a new publishing company wants to pick my brain about stuff they should publish. That would be amazing, reading manuscripts, picking books I think are good. Maybe it’s not my dream job, but it’s almost as good at least.
I’m suddenly aware that we’re standing in a back hallway, completely alone, away from everyone else. He’s standing close to me and suddenly my dream from last night comes tumbling back into my mind.
I have to look away from him. Hopefully, he doesn’t realize that I’m blushing.
“How about you have dinner with me again?” he asks. “Let me ask you some questions about your reading habits.”
“If that’s all you want, we can do it here,” I say stupidly.
He smirks and suddenly he’s even closer to me. He tilts my chin up to look into his eyes, and my cheeks are burning red.
“That’s not all I want,” he says softly.
“What else do you want, sir?”
His eyes flash and he steps forward. I step back, running into the wall, the giant canvas just to my right.
He kisses me, pinning me back against the wall. He takes my hair in one hand, holding tight, pulling it into his fist as his lips press against mine.
I feel my blood rise, pumping fast. I’m almost a little dizzy as he kisses me, tongue against my tongue, and I can’t help but let out a little gasping moan. It feels so good to be kissed like this. He’s taking me like a man, pressing my body right against the wall. I know this is wrong, and if someone catches us, there might be problems. But still…