All my give a damn’s stopped existing when Lucy came into life.
“They want to know when you want them to come install the cameras, Mr. Stoneridge?” Barbara caught me on my way to the conference room.
I closed my eyes, annoyed at being interrupted on my way to Lucy. She was alone and needed me. “As soon as possible, Barbara,” I said through clenched teeth. Ten seconds I’d never get back. Ten seconds I could have been closer to Lucy.
She narrowed her eyes at me when she saw my annoyance. Barbara placed her palm over the bottom of the phone and steeled her shoulders. “You may be my boss, but you aren’t any older than my grandchildren. I’m not afraid to give you a whooping, Mr. Stoneridge. Don’t test me.”
Her sass made me chuckle, relieving the tension in my body. “Sorry, Barbara. It’s been a bad day.” It had been a great day, but she didn’t need to know the details. Barbara wasn’t interested in hearing about how I yearned for the woman waiting for me to interview her, that she had invaded my dreams, my conscience, my soul.
My father would laugh at me right now. Being flustered and in a slight panic over a woman was not the Stoneridge way. I wasn’t what my father thought I’d be. I was supposed to be the next in line to take over the company, which in a way I still was just because of my last name, but a Stoneridge had never been an actual architect. When I showed the talent of a designer, while it benefited my father, he was afraid of what others would think about his son not being CEO material, but the person that made the buildings.
He called it a slap in the face as he sipped the finest whiskey. He said he was proud of me, but he would never boast about it in public. Godrick Stoneridge II was one of the coldest people I had ever come across, and how my mother put up with him was something I’d never grasp. Maybe that was why I never believed in love.
Love was a hoax.
A fairytale.
Love was the disguise, the mask, the veil, over lust. Once that was removed, people fucked.
And I really, really loved fucking.
I stared at the closed doors, the dark wood hiding the most perfect woman I had ever seen. My cock was half−hard and keeping it from going to full mast was taking so much will, it nearly made me dizzy. My palm hit the door as images of Lucy and I bombarded my mind. I really needed to get my shit together before I walked in there.
What the fuck was wrong with me? None of this made sense, and I didn’t understand why Lucy affected me. It pissed me off. I almost didn’t want to go inside.
Almost.
With a sweaty palm, I grabbed the gold handle of the door and pulled it open, revealing the light yellow walls of the conference room and big windows that overlooked the city. The mahogany table was long and wide, with twenty leather chairs surrounding it. The air shifted as soon as I stepped inside. A sweet scent hit my nose, Lucy’s perfume. It wasn’t too strong or heavy, but it smelled like wildflowers after a rainstorm. It was a scent I’d remember for the rest of my life.
When I glanced to the left, I saw her purse on the table, but the chair was empty. My skin pebbled when I thought she could have left, but why would she leave without her purse? My eyes darted around the room, wall to wall, window to window, and that was when I saw her. Her back was to me, and my half erection hardened completely. My pants tented when my gaze landed on her waist. She was curvy.
Lucy was all woman. I wanted my hands to drift down her torso, and I’d bet anything my palms would fit perfectly in the crevice between her hips and ribcage. I didn’t tell her I was in the room, but she could feel me because I saw the way her shoulders tensed. Tension crackled in the air, and when I stepped closer, that was when the sun lit her hair, showing the fiery locks cascading down her shoulders in a wild blaze.
Her style was different; classy, but still very sexy and elegant. The zipper on the back of her yellow skirt teased me. I wanted to inch it down and slide my hands down her ass, gripping the plump globes I knew were hiding underneath.
Before I knew it, I was right behind her, a breath away from burying my nose in her hair. She jumped when she saw my reflection, the back of her shoulders brushing against my chest as she moved, sending sparks crackling between us. The surge of attraction was more intense than I thought possible.
She met my eyes in the glass, staring at our reflections. I was a foot and a few inches taller than her, but the mirror−image of us together was beautiful, something I wanted to remember.
“Mr. Stoneridge,” she said through jagged breaths, her hand almost cupping her throat. “You scared me.”
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.” I never wanted to scare her. I didn’t even remember walking up to her. I needed to cover my tracks though. The last thing I wanted her to feel was fear. “I was curious at what you were looking at. Your attention seemed focused.”
She broke eye contact with me to look out the window again, and I took a smaller step forward, wanting to feel her warmth again.
“The view,” Lucy said. “It’s beautiful. All these buildings. All these people. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“New York is one of a kind, but it’s the people that make it, not the buildings. New people come here all the time and make the city better.”
“You think so?” She turned around, and when I finally got the first glimpse of her face, I stumbled back. My ears rang from the blood boiling and rushing rapidly through my body. She was more stunning and breathtaking in person.
I literally couldn’t breathe.
“Yeah, I do.” We stared at each other longer than necessary, but how could I look away from such a face? Her jaw was delicate and small, her chin round, her eyes seemed too big for her face, being the main focal point. They were fucking beautiful— big and wide with long lashes. Her lips—fuck, her lips—I wanted to make them swollen with my kiss, and wet from my tongue.
She looked away first, and she blushed, the red tint made her freckles disappear. While I loved her flush, I already missed seeing the freckles. “Thank you for interviewing me. Um, Thank you.”
I made her nervous. I liked that.
“Let’s get started, shall we. Please, let’s sit down.” Lucy flanked the side of the table, skimming her fingers down the wood like she was stroking the spin of a book, bringing it to life, appreciating it. A simple move shouldn’t be so sexual, but all I could think about were those fingers skimming across me.
I wanted to be the subject of her appreciation.
I followed her around the table, watching her hips sway back and forth until she got back to her chair. I reached around her and pulled it out for her.
“Thank you, Mr. Stoneridge.”
“Please, call me Rick,” I said, brushing my fingers across her back as I pushed the chair closer to the table.
Her hands folded on the table, and she shook her head, her hair danced around her shoulders, catching rays of light from the sun beaming in the windows.
I sat down, curious about what she was thinking and stroked my tie out of habit. “What?”
“I don’t know why you like to go by Rick. I like your first name. It’s different, strong, and it makes a statement when it is said.”
That I had never heard before. I usually shut people down right away about my first name. I thought it sounded pretentious. I leaned across the table, setting her file down on the table. “And what does it say?”
“It’s powerful. I think it commands attention.”
“Hmmm,” I hummed, keeping one arm on the table and rest the other on the arm of the chair as I stroked the five o’clock shadow on my chin. “Who is interviewing who here?” I asked.
“I apologize. That was not my intention.”
I tried to read her the best I could. Besides her cheeks being flushed, she remained professional. Unlike me. My cock was hard underneath this table, standing straight and pressing right against my zipper until the metal dug into the sensitive flesh of my tip. Women always reacted to me in a way, they tease their fingers in th
eir mouth or twirl their hair, flirt with me in some way, but not Lucy.
And that only made me want her more. Her reluctance to want me, when I knew she did, made me want to reach over the table and show her it was okay to give in to her wants because I could give her exactly what she needed.
I opened her file and read the first line. The next thing I needed to know was her. I wanted to know everything about her.
Her past, present, and whatever her future held, I wanted to insert myself in it. I’d be her want.
She’d see.
Chapter Five
Lucy
Holy.
Mother.
Of God.
This man was dangerously, irrevocably, and maddingly handsome. He reminded me of a fallen angel of sorts. He had a darkness to him, an edge, but no matter the depth of the abyss of blackness in his eyes, kindness was there. His black hair was nicely styled, and something about it made me want to run my fingers through it and mess it up.
He sat back, and I got a full view of his face for the first time, and my entire body responded to what I saw. His jaw was cut, reminding me of a Greek sculpture, and his nose was straight and defined, a bit square at the end like the rest of his face. His mouth parted, and I saw the red flick of his tongue inside. His lips were plump, a dusty pink color. His bottom lip was fuller than the top, and his high cheekbones caught the light of the room, proving the sharp lines of his face.
But it was his eyes that caught all the attention. They were calm, calculated, and the pupil and the iris blended together they were so black. They made my instincts quiver from the cold they radiated, but my body wasn’t telling me to run. Instead, it urged me to run into his arms so his flesh could warm me up.
No one should be built like this. It was unfair to the rest of the male population for a man to look this good, this deviant and holy all at the same time.
He flipped the file open, and my nipples pointed in my bra when I noticed the wide set of his palms and his thick fingers. Nothing about his hands said he was weak, no, he was strong.
Godrick Stoneridge was the kind of man a woman dreamed about and regretted the next day. He was the man that stole a little of your heart but left you cold in the morning. That I could tell, and I had been frostbitten once.
I refused to be bitten again.
“What brought you to New York, Lucy?” he asked in a velvety tone that hugged my skin. I needed to get out of here. His presence was stifling. It was like a weight on my chest, and every second I stayed in front of him, fighting the liquid heat pooling between my legs, the heavier the weight got.
I cleared my throat, wishing I had a glass of water near me. A piece of hair fell in my eyes, blocking my view of him and instead of moving it out of the way, I kept it there to use it as a barrier between him and I. “My brother got a job at your company, and since it was just me and him, he didn’t feel comfortable coming here without me, so I came with.”
“Did something happen to prompt this move? I need to know if you’re bringing something dangerous into my company.” He swiveled his chair until he faced me, and the pen in his hands danced over his knuckles as if he had done that trick a hundred times.
I wiggled in my chair. I didn’t expect to answer this question. I thought he’d ask me what my greatest weakness was or how I got started in the business of being a personal assistant. This was too personal though. He didn’t need to know that part of my life, especially since he was my boss. “I do not think that is appropriate. I’d never bring harm to your company or anyone else’s. You do not have to worry about that.”
“I do. I care about my employees. I care about what has happened to them.”
Yeah, something told me that was a load of shit. He wanted information out of me for some reason. I wouldn’t give it to him. I preferred to keep that part of my life locked away forever if I had any say in it.
“This has nothing to do with the interview.” There was a challenge in my voice, and it raised slightly from the pressure he put on me to answer something so personal.
The wrinkle between his brows was quick, but it told me he was unhappy. “So you have a brother, Logan?”
“I do.”
“And you live with him?”
“Yes, I do.”
He grunted in response and flipped another page of the resume. “Do you have anyone else living with you?”
“Um, excuse me?” I wasn’t too sure why he was asking that. Again, it had nothing to do with the interview. Maybe this wasn’t the job for me. When Logan told me he interviewed for the company, he said that it was a woman, not Mr. Stoneridge interviewing him. “That isn’t relevant either.”
“Your emergency contact is just your brother. If something were to happen and we couldn’t get a hold of him, is there anyone else we could call?” He pulled his suit sleeves up, and the watch on his right wrist caught my attention. It was a beautiful gold Rolex.
“Oh.” I guess that made sense. I twisted my fingers together and tried to relax. I was too on edge. I had no reason to be defensive with him. “No, there is no one else. It is just me and my brother, and it has been for a while.”
The worried lines around his eyes faded, and a small smile formed on his mouth as if that news pleased him. “When could you start, Lucy?”
He was very casual with me, something I didn’t understand. He confused me. Was he a laid back boss or interested? This kind of place with how well−known it was probably had rules about fraternizing with employees. He had to be laid back. “Could I start Monday? I’m trying to get the apartment put together still.” Today was Tuesday, but I really wanted the rest of the week to get the apartment together.
“Monday sounds perfect. I can show you your office if you like?” He stood, and from where I sat, I had to tilt my head all the way back to look at his face. Wow. Godrick Stoneridge was a tall man. The black suit he wore stretched over his shoulders, a perfectly tailored fit.
“Ah, sure. So wait, I got the job?”
“You had the job when I looked at your resume; I just wanted to meet you first.”
Something in the way he said that made something flutter in my chest, hope maybe, and I didn’t want to feel hope, I didn’t want to feel anything that meant I wanted this man, but I’d have to be dead not to want him. Any woman in their right mind would lay down and spread their legs for him.
The happiness and relief I felt had tears springing to my eyes. “Thank you so much. You won’t be disappointed. Thank you.” I stood and held out my hand to him, trying to be professional.
He bypassed my hand, cupped my jaw, and swiped his thumb across my cheek. It was tender, and the way he looked at me….it seemed like it hurt him to see me cry. “No, no tears. This is a happy occasion.”
“They are happy tears, Mr. Stoneridge.”
“I didn’t know happy tears existed. Tears are tears, pain is pain,” he said it so clinically that it broke my heart. I wanted to comfort him and show him that pain was not pain, and happiness could mean more than a smile.
“That’s really heartbreaking that you believe that, Mr. Stoneridge. I hope one day that happiness brings you tears because it’s the best emotion to feel. It’s success, relief, pride, and love wrapped up in one, and the body can hardly contain it.”
“Is that what you feel right now? Love?”
“I always feel love in some sort of capacity. Love for life, love for food, love for the opportunity to work. Love doesn’t always involve two people.”
He broke eye contact with me and swallowed. What I said triggered a reaction. His hands lingered on my file. “Love never involves two people, Lucy.”
I cocked my head, and in doing so, I leaned into his palm that was still on my cheek. He was so warm, such a contradiction to his eyes that seemed like bottomless pits. I sighed before taking a step back. “It’s heartbreaking that you also believe in that, Godrick.”
The moment I said his name, he snapped his eyes from the desk and glared at me
. His nostrils flared, and the coldness in his eyes were replaced with flames. He was pissed. He specifically asked me not to call him by his first name. I wanted a reaction from him, but why, I didn’t know.
“Do not call me that again, Lucy. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” I whispered and tried to take another step away from his touch when his hand tightened on my jaw, but it didn’t scare me.
His eyes softened around the edges, and his thumb tugged at my bottom lip. The slight scratch surprised me. He had callouses on his hands. “You confuse me,” Godrick said in a low, deep whisper, staring at my face with a lost expression.
“I’m sorry?” I didn’t think I heard him right. Me confusing a man like him made zero sense.
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I need to cut this short. I’ll see you Monday. Be here at nine in the morning.” He let go of my face so suddenly I fell forward a bit but righted myself before I smacked against the table. I watched him stride out the door, my eyes glued to his ass. I tried to will him to stay because I already missed him. His presence cloaked me in safety, something I hadn’t felt in a year.
No one ever knew, not even Logan, but every day for the last year, I had felt eyes on me, someone watching. It scared me, but with Godrick’s presence in the room, his power was my security, and I already needed that back.
The last year, I had lost count of how many times I have had to call the cops because I thought someone was in the apartment, or I felt watched, or the notes that were left, the flowers, and that was after the restraining order I put on Brian. I only recently felt like my life was my own since we moved her to New York, but change didn’t take away the fear and paranoia. I still acted as if Brian was around every corner. Sometimes, when I woke up from sleep, I saw him standing next to my bed.
He’d never be there, but after the last year, Brian made sure to insert himself in my mind for the rest of my life. The only time I had not thought of him and had felt safe was in this room with Godrick.
And I wanted it back. I never wanted a man to make me feel safe because it was a man that took that safety away. Men are powerful like that, and I wanted to be my own power, my own strength, but fifteen minutes alone with Godrick Stoneridge, his emanating presence stripped me down to bare bones, leaving me vulnerable.
Kiss My Boss: Plot Twist I’m Pregnant Page 4