by Ella Brooke
I groan into my pillow. Whatever else it might be, it’s an ethical nightmare. Thank God it’s Saturday, and at least I won’t have to face him until Monday. How can I keep working for him under these circumstances? The boss fucking his personal assistant. How cliché! He has a business reputation to protect. Even if his feelings are genuine, he can’t exactly announce it to the world. And if his feelings aren’t genuine—shit! I’ll be far too humiliated to do my job.
At a time like this, there’s only one person I can turn to. It’s just after 9:00 a.m., and Candice will only have been home for a few hours. Yikes, what if she and Brent crossed paths as he was leaving and she just arriving? Agh! I have to wake her up and talk about it, no matter how grumpy she’ll be.
I throw back the sheets and realize I’m completely naked. I cringe at this evidence, further compounded by the pleasant but telltale ache between my legs as I stand and look for some clothes to throw on. Damn! In spite of my growing regret, I can’t deny the man fucked me good and proper and that I feel a tiny bit of triumph over it. The sex was amazing. He was amazing. He was nothing like Ryan. That last thought makes me burn with guilt inside. I head for the kitchen. I need to tempt Candice out of bed with a steaming cup of fresh coffee.
“Whaaat,” Candice croaks as I call her name and giver her a gentle shake. “Go away.”
“Candice, I’m sorry but you’ve got to wake up. I made you coffee . . .” I say, waving the steaming mug under her nose. Her nostrils twitch, and one eye opens.
“You did,” she mumbles, rousing herself into a sitting position. “Shit, this must be serious,” she says, running a hand through her short, copper-colored hair that’s sticking out at crazy angles before taking my proffered cup. “Don’t scare me so early in the morning.”
“Sorry,” I say, gingerly sitting my tender rear on the bed beside her. “Um, what time did you get in?”
Candice cradles the cup in both hands and takes a preliminary sip. “I don’t know. I just crashed. Why weren’t you home before I left?”
I heave an anxious sigh. “I . . . got tied up at work. I need some advice.”
“Advice? From me?” she asks, feigning shock.
“Well, you are a bartender, right?”
Candice smiles. “True,” she says, taking another sip of coffee. “What’s on your mind?”
I take a deep breath. “I slept with someone last night.”
Candice smirks. “You said advice, not congratulations. He tied you up? Kinky.”
I shake my head. “Figure of speech. It’s not just that I slept with someone. It’s who I slept with that’s the problem.”
My friend eyes me suspiciously. “If sex is a problem, then it’s a good one to have. Oh wait . . . you got back with Ryan, didn’t you? Damn, there goes my plan.”
I wince. “No, not Ryan. Worse than that.”
“Plan reinstated. Well, don’t make me guess, girl. Who was it?”
“Ryan’s dad. My boss.”
Candice lowers her cup and swivels her head toward me in a way that reminds me of The Exorcist. I suppress a shiver. “Don’t fuck with me. I’m not in the mood this early,” she says, her voice not dispelling the demon-possessed idea.
“It’s true. He had opera tickets, and asked me if I’d go with him.”
“Like a date?” Her mouth drops open like she’s just seen a cat walking on its hind legs.
“No, he had a date and whoever it was cancelled on him. He asked so nicely, said to think of it as a reward me for my hard work. I couldn’t say no.”
“It’s easy,” Candice blurts. “Watch my lips. N-O.”
I shrug. “Easy for you. You weren’t there; you aren’t . . . attracted to him.”
“And you are? Don’t tell me you developed a thing for older men while I was away. Remind me not to go away again.”
I look up at the ceiling in exasperation. “You’re missing the point. I fucked him, Candice. I let him seduce me. He drove me home, he walked me up, then . . . he didn’t leave. We ended up in bed and, oh shit, it was incredible, but how can I face him at work on Monday?”
She sets her cup down on the nightstand. “He didn’t, like, force himself on you, did he? That’s abuse of authority. Punishable by law. You could sue. He’s rich, right? Could be a lot of money at stake.”
I gape at her with a look of horror on my face. “I would never do that! No, he didn’t force me . . . not really. I . . . wanted it too, at the time. Now I’m sure it was a mistake.”
“Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to upset you more than you are.” Candice puts a hand on my arm. “Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it wasn’t. You say he seduced you, but you said yes, correct? You said it was great. ‘Incredible,’ you said. So just tell me one thing. Do you like him? Would you have sex with him again, if he wasn’t your boss? If he wasn’t Ryan’s dad?”
I calm down and think about her question. If he wasn’t my boss. If he wasn’t my damn ex-boyfriend’s father. If I’d met him in a bar or something. If he asked me out legit. Would I? All the fantasies I’ve harbored flash in my mind, and how fantastic it was last night. I close my eyes and draw in a breath.
“Yeah, I probably would.”
“Well then. There’s your answer. You can’t do anything about him being Ryan’s father, but you can do something about him being your boss.”
“You mean quit my job?”
“It’s up to you. But if you can’t face working for him this way . . .” Candice shrugs. “Then you find another job.”
I nod in resignation. She’s right. For all I know, Brent may fire me the minute I show up on Monday. That would be even more humiliating. We sit there on the bed in silence, until she elbows me.
“So, what was it like?” she asks in a naughty voice.
“Candice!” I groan. But I know I’ll tell her every juicy detail. What are friends for, after all?
Wolf in Wall Street Clothing
Brent
I check my Rolex for probably the twentieth time since I arrived home around 3:30 a.m. It’s now 9:45. I haven’t slept. Will she be up? Noticing the empty pillow next to her upon waking from the blissful sleep I left her in?
She’ll think I’m a cad, and rightly so, but I wasn’t about to have her roommate stumble over us in the middle of the night. That’s why I want to call, or at least text—to let her know last night wasn’t an accident, that I’d like nothing better than to wake up next to her every morning. Better still, to have her wake up in my king-size bed here in Manhattan, gazing out at the early morning skyline of NYC I’m looking at right now through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse suite.
I let my heart rule my head, certainly; some might say my dick ruled it. It wouldn’t be totally inaccurate. Having Cassie there, within reach, away from the office was too much temptation to resist. I had to have her. That silken mane of hair, the tight black dress hugging bodacious curves, those killer heels gracing long shapely legs. I was practically slavering like a wolf. Wolves are predators. And in predator’s terms—she’s fair game. She’s single, of legal age, and has her own free will. And I didn’t hear her cry wolf.
I almost laugh at my insipid, immature joke. Fatigue must be setting in. Still, I don’t feel like sleeping. I rise off my Natuzzi leather sectional to brew another cup of coffee. I could probably spend a few hours at the office today, but it would seem so empty without Cassie there. I’d rather be spending time with her, truth be told. But I should give her some space; and time to process what she might be feeling after last night.
I let my mind replay the events. The incredibly hot moment at the opera when she came like a wildcat to my touch, her noble attempt to ditch me in the lobby, the clear, guileless desire in her eyes as she allowed me into her apartment—into her world. And fuck, I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feel of her tight walls convulsing around my cock as I brought her to orgasm a second time. And as I shot my load into her sweet pussy I felt as though I was entering some alternate universe,
a fantasy kingdom where all only the heroic, chosen few are privileged to exist.
Diana and I had that, and I miss it. Having these feelings again is a gift, I know it. I hope Cassie feels the same. My only regret is that we used no protection; I can assume she’s on the Pill but that doesn’t mean other safety measures weren’t necessary. I’ll have to speak to her about that. The company benefit plan will cover whatever her choice of medical care, whatever she uses.
I settle back onto the couch with probably my sixth cup of java and my cell phone, thinking about what kind of message to send her. I find her contact and tap the message app, my finger poised over the on-screen keyboard when I hear a noise in the hallway behind me. I glance over my shoulder, the high back of the sofa shielding my presence. She doesn’t see me. But I see her.
A tall, slim brunette tiptoes up the hall from the direction of Ryan’s bedroom, her shoes in her hands. Her skimpy sundress is a bit askew, as is the mop of brown hair framing her pretty, olive-toned face. Slinking along behind her is my one and only son, apparently escorting her out. I can’t suppress a smirk at the cloak and dagger exit, but something about this new arrival on the scene both amuses and alarms me at the same time. Ryan and I have barely spoken since the lake house. I feel disconnected; like I don’t know what’s going on in his life anymore.
“I’ll call you,” I hear Ryan say, giving the girl a quick kiss on the lips.
“Bye,” she whispers, then disappears out the door. Ryan quietly closes it behind her. I assume she has a cab waiting downstairs; otherwise I’d expect my offspring to have enough good manners to drive her home.
“Good morning,” I say, rather loudly, as Ryan turns to retreat back to his room.
“Jesus!” he curses, spinning in my direction. “You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”
“I believe I live here,” I answer, pocketing my phone. “Though I don’t seem to know much about what goes on under my roof.” I nod toward the door. “Who was that, may I ask?”
“You haven’t exactly been around to notice, Dad. And her name’s Nina.”
He’s got me there. “You’re right. Sorry. Nina, huh? She seems . . . nice.”
“She is.”
I nod in acknowledgment. I may not get a better time to connect with my boy than this moment. “Coffee?” I ask, moving toward the kitchen.
“Sure. Why not.” He shoves his hands in his jean pockets and takes a seat in one of our oversized armchairs. He’s staring out the windows as I return and hand him his cup. “Thanks.”
I settle back on the sectional again. “So it’s Nina now, is it? How come you never told me you broke up with Cassidy?”
He doesn’t look my way as he takes a first sip. “Why would I? It’s not like you give a shit what I do these days.”
“Not true. Of course I give a shit . . . you’re my son. I know I’ve been busy, but I do care about what’s going on in your life. Especially something as important as relationships.”
“Hah,” he scoffs into his mug. “Too bad not everyone feels that way. Some people treat a relationship like a disposable razor. Just toss it in the trash when you’re done with it.”
“What do you mean?”
Ryan cradles his cup in both hands and turns his face to me, his eyes misty. “I didn’t break up with Cassie. She broke up with me.”
“Oh.” His downcast look stabs me in the heart. I’d assumed the split was mutual. Shit, I really am out of touch. “I didn’t realize that, I’m sorry. But it’s good you’re getting out there again, you know, with Nina.”
“Plenty more fish in the sea, is that it?” Ryan quips sarcastically. He sets his mug down on a side table. “Yeah . . . Nina’s great. But it’s just casual.”
“She spent the night, I take it.” Casual sex. I can hardly frown on that, considering where I was last night.
“We agreed to keep it casual. I don’t want to hurt her, not after . . .” he breaks off and stares out the window again. “I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.”
My coffee seems to go cold in my mouth as I take a swig. He’s really upset by this. I should have talked to him weeks ago. “Do you want to tell me about it?” As much as I want to be involved, I may not like what he has to say about this particular subject.
Ryan shakes his head. “I don’t know what went wrong. I thought we were getting along great. You saw us at the lake house; you offered her a job because of me, I know that. All of a sudden, she tells me ‘I’m just not feeling it anymore’ and ‘you won’t have time for me,’ and a bunch of other bullshit.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture I remember from when he was younger and trying not to cry. My heart drops into my stomach to see him in such pain. I know from experience there are no words I can say to help; just stay silent and let him get it out.
He drops his hand and leans forward with elbows on his knees. “I really thought I loved her.” He snorts a mirthless laugh. “I was even thinking of asking her to marry me. Can you believe it? Guess I’m a terrible judge of character.”
Oh, Christ. What have I done? I had no idea how serious he’d been about Cassie; not to the point of proposing marriage, in spite of my idle thoughts about grandchildren. Judge of character—fuck! What would he think of my character? I’ve just fucked the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. God, I’m despicable. A selfish asshole with a dick for brains and the worst kind of father imaginable. I’d never have touched her if he’d told me how he felt. It’s my own fault for putting such distance between us, and completely my fault for taking advantage of an impressionable young lady. I should be fucking shot. “Don’t beat yourself up, Ry. It happens. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.” What a lame crock of shit we parents hand our kids. So not helpful.
Ryan rises from his chair. “Yeah, well. Lesson learned. I gotta go, Dad. See you later.” As he walks from the room, I remain sitting motionless, my conscience weighing me down like a ton of lead. Minutes tick by. I remember I was about to send a text message, but it sure as hell won’t be the same message as I had in mind earlier. I can’t be around Cassie knowing what I know now. I’ll have to find her something else within the company so she won’t be out of a job. But how to tell her without looking like a callous, womanizing bastard?
For the Best
Cassidy
I don’t want to see him. I’m so freaked out over what happened I’m a nervous wreck around the office. So far, I’ve managed to be away from my desk when Brent’s been between meetings this morning. But I have to see him eventually; he’ll be expecting his lunch brought in like always.
He sent me a text on Saturday that I wasn’t sure what to make of. Good morning. Thx again for the pleasure of your company. Have a lovely weekend and see you Monday. I suppose if he’d said nothing at all it would have bothered me, but the offhand tone of the message almost bothers me more. It sounds like a thank-you note for hosting an afternoon tea. Did that night mean so little to him?
My stomach’s in knots as I leave the commissary with Brent’s lunch order and wait for the elevator. This is an impossible situation; I can’t stay working here. I have to tell him I quit, that’s all there is to it. But if I no longer work for him, I may never see him again. Is that what I want? I’m not so sure. I feel torn in two.
As I reach the thirtieth floor, I steel myself for what I know will be the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. The distance from the elevator to his office door feels like the length of a football field. I swipe my cardkey in the reader and the light goes green. At least my security card hasn’t been revoked—that’s a positive sign. I pull the door open and step inside.
He looks up from his desk as I enter and stride purposefully toward him, ferrying the carefully packaged and presented meal. I do my best to appear calm and professional but I’m sure I look pale and stressed. I set the food down at the edge of his desk like usual then withdraw. “Busy day,” he says, turning his attention to me. God, those mes
merizing brown eyes are starting to soften my resolve already. I wish Friday night had never happened and I wouldn’t have to be making such a hard decision. “Sorry I’ve been unavailable most of the morning. I’m sure you’ve noticed that’s how Mondays go around here.”
He smiles and I can’t help but picture the way he looked at me the last time I saw him—with naked, raw desire. Literally naked; his toned and sculpted body as much of as a surprise as a delight. A man’s body, honed with the mileage of experience, not some adolescent gym-monkey’s physique. Built to deliver sensual, practiced pleasure to any woman privileged enough to receive it—for the moment all stylishly wrapped up in a killer Armani suit. Damn!
“Thank you for this,” he says softly, gesturing to his lunch. I’m standing here stiff as a statue, my treacherous body unwilling to make the next move. Brent saves me the trouble by speaking first.
“Won’t you sit down for a moment,” he asks, but it doesn’t sound like a question. More of a request. He motions to the chairs facing his desk. I sit obediently, all my muscles poised for a dignified and quick exit if needed.
“I must apologize for my actions on Friday night. I was way out of line. I took advantage in a vulnerable situation and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.”
I swallow hard, my interlaced fingers clenching into an even tighter knot in my lap. I’m not certain he was the only one taking advantage in that scenario. “It’s quite alright,” I manage to say. “We were both responsible for what happened. No need to apologize.”
“Well, I’ll feel better if you accept it; I hope you will, too.”
I nod, mostly just to get on with it, so I can say what I have to say before I chicken out. “Accepted.”
Brent appears to relax and let out a deep breath. “Thank you. You’ve done some excellent work Cassie, and I don’t want to lose you. But under the circumstances, I think we might both be more comfortable if you took on a different position in the company. I’ve made arrangements for you to transfer to the marketing department, if that would be acceptable to you. I know they could use your administrative skills and I’ve agreed to support your salary from the executive budget, so your earnings will remain the same.”