Safe Words
Magnolia Robbins
Copyright © 2018 by Magnolia Robbins. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of very brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Authors Note | The National Domestic Abuse Hotline | 1-800-799-7233
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Dedication
This book is dedicated to my dear friend Charity. Months ago, during a board game night, she and her husband Kevin were the first two people I told about my adventures in writing lesbian fiction. Over the conversation, she suggested I write a kinky romance novel similar to a more famous kinky romance novel for all my lesbian readers. As a result, Safe Words was born. This is for you friend. Thanks for all your love and encouragement. You’re the best. For realsies.
Chapter One
IT WAS THE DAY THAT a stupid mustard stain changed my life forever.
New York City rushed around me. A blur of noisy traffic, towering buildings, bustling crowds, and the early morning breeze that blew up the edges of my jacket. I’d been here a month now, but every time I stepped out into it, it took my breath away.
“Get out of the way, lady!” A woman with a cart scowled at me as I stood in the center of the sidewalk. I moved to the side, holding up an apologetic hand. Once she’d passed, I set off towards Jason’s Bakery. When I’d reached the shiny clean glass doors of the shop, I held the door open for an elderly couple leaving. They gave me a friendly smile as I disappeared inside.
“The usual?” Jason asked me when I reached the counter. The smell inside of the place was intoxicating. Everything made fresh, early that morning. When I nodded, he handed me a package from around the corner. A warm, toasted breakfast sandwich slathered with mustard. My favorite. Jason filled my thermos with piping hot coffee, and I slid him the money I owed. “You have your interview today?” He went back to work organizing a plate of fresh bread slices in the display case.
My hands wrapped around my breakfast and I nodded. “I’m headed there now.”
“Well, good luck. Not that I think you’ll need it or anything.” Jason said matter-of-factly, and I smiled. We gave one another a wave before I disappeared out the door and back into the busy city streets.
When I’d made it to the corner of the block, I scanned the road for a taxi. A glimmer of yellow caught my eye in the horizon, and I waited for it to approach. As I was about to wave it down, a woman stepped in front of me. She was beautiful, dressed in a fashionable black dress and heels. Her long brunette hair flowed around her shoulders. In a matter of moments, she stopped the taxi. When it approached the side of the road next to where she was standing, I stared at her baffled as she stepped inside. Every fiber of me begged to call out in protest, but I found myself speechless, as usual. The taxi took off, and I stood stewing.
It was only ten blocks away. I could walk and make it.
The decision wasn’t the best one I’d ever made. By the time I’d gotten to the high rise, I was a puddle of sweat and shaky legs. It was clear I needed to exercise more. A wave of nerves hit me. I thought for a moment I might turn around and head back home. This was the biggest interview I’d had yet. Was I even prepared?
I looked up for a moment, shaking my head. “I need a sign.”
As I took a final bite of my meal before disposing of the remnants, I felt a long trail of mustard roll down my face. Before I could reach up to catch it, it splattered on the front of my favorite outfit.
That was about as much of a sign as any. A nasty yellow sign, taunting me. Though I wasn’t sure if it was a good one.
“Well shit,” I cursed to myself. Once I’d discarded the rest of my sandwich and tossed the thermos in my bag, I attempted to remove it. My actions only made it worse. I gave up hope, trying my best to hide it with my jacket as I made it inside the building. Marble floors and wood walls surrounded me. A large placard on the far side of the room read Baker Publishing. After taking a deep breath, I moved to the information desk, signing in as a visitor. When I checked the clock for the time, I panicked realizing I was a few minutes late.
The elevator ride was agonizingly long. I ascended twenty-two floors before I stepped off. In front of me was a wall of glass, two doors in the center. A sleek and modern interior behind. A woman was already observing me from the front desk. I moved to the doors, letting myself inside.
The large silver and white sign at the front of the office read Stitch in a crisp script font. It was the second time I’d seen the logo. The first had been a few days prior when I’d found out I had gotten the interview.
“Natalia Ross?” The woman at the desk was staring me down. Her eyes trailed the length of me. It was obvious by her expression, she did not approve of my attire. The polka dot blouse (now stained a lovely mustard yellow), khaki pants, and Mary Janes were my favorite interview wear. After a brief silent judgment, the woman met eyes with me again.
“Give me your jacket,” she said in haste, having placed a phone to her ear. I hesitated for a moment to comply, having liked having something to help disguise the food that had spilled. “Andrea, your interviewee is here.” The phone flew back to the receiver the instant she’d finished. Finally, I took off my jacket and handed it over. The woman smoothed it down and hung it on a rack behind her.
“You’re late,” a voice spoke to my left. I turned, coming face to face with a dainty, petite woman whose hazel eyes were as big as I’d ever seen. Andrea, I assumed. Her lips pursed together tightly. She wore an expensive looking frilly black blouse, with a fitted skirt and a pair of long heeled boots. An outfit I would have never thought of wearing.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized, unable to maintain eye contact with her due to the intensity of her gaze. She flipped her blonde hair back off of her shoulder and scoffed at me. Then she turned to walk in the opposite direction.
“This way.”
We weaved behind the main desk and into the giant office space itself. The entire place was a pristine and clean white and silver. Modern furniture abound. All the people we passed looked like they’d belonged at a ritzy party or a fashion show in Paris. It made me think what opinions they must have had of me as I moved by each of them. Every pair of eyes imaginable was on me. My hand moved up to my shoulder in an attempt to use my arm to hide the mess on my shirt. I did my best to ignore the stares. When we made it to the far end of the building, Andrea paused.
When she turned, she studied me over again. It looked for a moment as if she’d utter a snarky remark, but she didn’t. Instead, she moved behind a desk, straightening papers. “You’re lucky that Scarlett hasn’t arrived ye
t. She loathes tardiness.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stood perfectly still and did my best to maintain my composure. The office was bustling around me; an intricate machine. Inside, my mind was churning, thinking I’d made some terrible mistake. There was no way I belonged here. I stuck out like a sore thumb.
“Do you even know anything about Stitch?” Andrea met eyes with me again, and I offered a small smile in exchange. She didn’t return it. My hand rested on the back of my head for a moment, nervously. As usual, I didn’t reply at first, thinking of what I wanted to say.
“It’s one of the largest fashion blogs in the country. You run the most news stories, cover the most fashion events, and house the most employees of any other digital fashion news outlet.” I paused for a moment, trying to read Andrea’s expression before I continued. When I couldn’t figure it out, I took a small breath in. “And I know if you work here, you can get any job in New York that you want when you leave.”
Andrea let out a short, loud huff of a laugh. “When you leave.” She rolled her eyes. “If that didn’t make it clear where your priorities lie.” I wanted to retort but I kept my mouth shut. “In any case, I doubt you’ll get the job. The executive assistant position is highly sought after. Hundreds of women would die to work here. You clearly have no interest in the fashion industry.”
“I’m interested in the journalism industry,” I managed to argue. “You write more articles than any other fashion blog.”
Andrea was going to undoubtedly disagree with me again when there was a call from across the room. A call that sent the entire office into a massive frenzy.
“Scarlett’s here!” I recognized the voice of the receptionist from the front. People scattered all around me. Andrea came around the desk and dragged me to a chair. She ran into the office behind her desk, and I studied her as she straightened and organized. When she came back, she stood anxiously beside me. I wondered for a moment if Scarlett might be the devil herself.
The door opened from across the office. A voice unlike any I’d ever heard before filled the room. It was strange, smooth and soft, yet commandeering. I looked up as she came around the corner and the sight of her was breathtaking. If I had to guess, she was somewhere in her forties, though she was in incredible shape. Even without the heels she wore, she was astonishingly tall and thin framed. Her shiny dark brown hair styled in a sleek bob. She was dressed in a deep red business suit that looked as though it cost more than my rent and she commanded the room with her presence. My heart leaped from my chest, entranced by everything about her.
As she passed, she gave me no mind, turning her attention towards Andrea. Those blue eyes were the fiercest I’d ever seen. She wasn’t even looking at me, and it gave me shivers. “Did Gucci return my call?” Andrea looked panicked.
“No ma’am. Not yet.” Andrea fidgeted ever so slightly. While she was trying her best to remain stoic in her expression, I could see the hint of anxiousness.
“Call them again. I need an answer by noon.” Once Scarlett had spoken, she turned and headed straight into her office. My eyes followed her as she walked, her hips swaying in those tall heels. It was hard to peel myself away from her. When I turned back towards Andrea, she had a phone to her ear.
“Andrea Bayer calling from the office of Scarlett Stone. I need Jamie, immediately.” Andrea drummed her fingers on her desk while she waited. She turned her attention towards me, shooting me a somewhat dirty stare. Why, I had no idea. I crossed my legs and folded my hands in my lap, waiting patiently. “Yes, Jamie. I have Scarlett Stone for you. Yes. One moment please.” She pressed a button on the phone and called out for Scarlett. “I have Jamie for you, ma’am.”
My eyes followed Scarlett as she picked up the phone at her desk and sat at her luxurious looking leather chair. She spun in it as she spoke, though I couldn’t make out what she was saying.
“You best be prepared,” Andrea said sternly when she’d hung up the phone. “Scarlett is in a mood today.” When she spoke, she sat in her seat, giving me a brief glance before she turned her attention towards the paperwork on her desk.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Oh trust me,” Andrea replied, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. “Five years of working for that woman. I can just tell.” I found her response unsatisfactory and somewhat funny, but I didn’t pry further. Instead, I sat waiting, the chaotic bustling office whirling around me. It seemed as if I was the only one that wasn’t busy. When I realized this, I dug into my satchel I’d brought with me, pulling out my portfolio. I thumbed through it while I waited.
Scarlett called out for Andrea. She disappeared into her office, leaving the door slightly ajar. I studied the two of them interacting out of the corner of my eye. Once again, I couldn't keep from Scarlett. There was something about her that drew you in. Even as intimidating as she looked to everyone else, to me she was just different. Almost enchanting, in a way.
“I thought I had an interview this morning,” I could hear Scarlett saying faintly. When she did, my eyes met Andrea’s.
“She’s right outside,” Andrea replied, nodding towards me. Scarlett’s eyes drew on mine, and I looked away. My heart raced in my chest. “I’ll bring her in?” Scarlett didn’t reply, but in a few moments, Andrea’s heeled boots were clicking till they stopped in front of me.
“Get in there,” she said, somewhat snappily. “And try to embarrass yourself as little as possible.” As soon as she spoke, I got to my feet. My heart wouldn’t settle in my chest, and I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. Andrea held the door to the office open, and I made my way inside. When she shut it behind me, Scarlett and I met eyes. We only looked at each other for a moment before I watched her study every piece of me. I stood still in the center of the room until she’d finished. Her eyes lingered on the stain on my shirt, but she didn’t speak of it. My arm moved in front of me as I brushed a strand of hair from my face.
“Sit,” Scarlett said, and I moved to the leather and wood seat that faced the opposite side of her desk. After I sat, I smoothed my khaki pants and fumbled with my portfolio for a moment. It was difficult to find the courage to gaze up at her again, but I managed. She was still staring me down. I swallowed hard.
“I-I’m Natalia Ross,” I said, as collected as I could. My hand extended out across her desk. She didn’t take it, only stared back at me. Once I realized she wouldn’t reciprocate the gesture, my hand fell awkwardly back into my lap.
“You’re interviewing for the executive assistant job,” Scarlett said, leaning back into her chair and crossing her legs. Her gaze had softened, but she still looked rather intimidating. When I nodded, a curious smirk crossed her lips. “I see you aren’t here for the allure of the fashion industry. Which leads me to assume your intentions are for the short-term.”
I decided not to lie. “I’m here because of your reputation, yes.”
Scarlett’s mysterious looking smirk hadn’t left her lips. “And your interests in fashion?” It was an obvious question she already knew the answer to. Before I spoke, she continued. “You must think little of it, judging by that discount rack attire you’re wearing. Unless that stain is some sort of statement.” My face grew hot. I peered at her as she stood up, motioning for me to stand. When I did, she made her way around the desk, circling me like a hawk. As she drew in closer, my heart rate increased again. Her eyes studied me carefully.
Scarlett came to stand in front of me, leaning back into her desk. She rested her hands on the rich mahogany top. That smirk came to her lips again. “And yet you’re wearing a slew of fashion history, and you don’t even realize it. Those polka dots were a trend that came from the polka craze in mid-19th century Europe. It inspired the Pointillism movement.” I stared at her, unknowing of what to say, so she continued. “You see Ms. Ross, while you believe you are avoiding the very idea of a trend and the fashion industry, you are in fact, a walking statement of its importance.”
When those blue eyes met mine again, I lost where I was for a moment. Before I was able to stop it, my portfolio fell from my hands, scattering onto the floor. I followed Scarlett’s feet, in those tall red stiletto heels, as they disappeared behind her desk once more. Quickly I gathered my papers and settled back down into the chair. My dirty blonde hair fell into my face, and I pushed it aside, doing my best to remain calm and composed.
“Ms. Ross, I don’t believe you’d be right for this position.” There wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice. It was firm and straightforward, just like everything else about her. She appeared to have already made up her mind. “That’s all.”
It took me a moment to realize that she had ended the conversation. When she turned towards her computer and the other documents on her desk, it occurred to me. I got to my feet, rather defeated. Just as I was leaving, I hesitated. I turned my body back towards Scarlett and cleared my throat. She met eyes with me again and did not seem the least bit amused. When she didn’t speak, I took a deep breath and did something I never expected to do. I defended myself.
“I know I’m not the typical candidate,” I said. “And I’m not here for the glitz and the glamour of the fashion industry.” I seemed to be losing Scarlett again with my words, so I tried to get quickly to the point. “I’m here because I’m a journalist. I’m a hard worker. Valedictorian of my college class. I want this job. I need this job. I will do anything for this job. And I know you have ‘hundreds’ of girls that will fight me tooth and nail for this position, but I’m telling you. I can do this.”
Scarlett studied me for a moment. I couldn’t quite read her expression. The silence became agonizing. When Scarlett’s eyes trailed over the stain on my shirt once more, I braced myself for the ridicule I was about to receive.
“I expect you to keep your word, Ms. Ross,” Scarlett said, that expressionless gaze still stretched across her face. My heart did a leap in my chest. Did that mean she was letting me have the position? “Now go make yourself useful. I have things to do.”
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