by Sophie Stern
I didn’t love her anymore. In fact, I think it’s safe to say I hated her, but she’s totally and completely gone. There is no coming back from this. There’s no maybe-one-day-we’ll-make-up. There’s none of that. She was here, and then she wasn’t. She was mine, and then she wasn’t. She was alive.
Then she wasn’t.
I hear a quiet, gentle knock at the door, and I know exactly who it is without even having to ask. Rose is here. Most likely, Christina sent her in to make sure I actually get my ass to the Thomas and Johnson meeting, which, by my calculations, starts in about 26 minutes.
And I don’t want to go.
I told Christina to cancel it.
I asked – no, I demanded – that she cancel all of my meetings.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about being in business, though, it’s that I rarely get my way when it comes to managing my own life. I have secretaries and receptionists and assistants because I thought I’d be able to give them work to do. I figured I’d be able to delegate important tasks and have them, well, assist me.
The reality is that I do what they say.
They tell me where to be, when to be there, and what to wear.
In many ways, it’s quite nice not to have to worry about a thing.
In other ways...
Well, in other ways, I’d much rather have a little bit of freedom. Today, for example. I don’t want to be here, but I can’t exactly ditch out of work. When you’re the CEO, you aren’t allowed to get sick. You aren’t allowed to miss work. You aren’t allowed to fuck up. You have to be there 24/7 for your company. No matter what you’re going through in your personal life, you’re married to your job, so you’d better hope that it’s a position you love.
The knock sounds again.
This time, it’s a little more anxious.
It’s a little more needy.
I don’t bother answering. Rose has been my assistant long enough to know when I need her, and she’s been my assistant long enough to know that she doesn’t need permission to enter the room. She doesn’t need me to tell her to come to me. She doesn’t need me to go through pleasantries.
We’re far beyond that.
In many ways, it’s freeing.
I don’t have to go through all of the pomp and circumstance with Rose that I have to go through with other people. There’s a certain level of comfort between us, so instead of getting up, and instead of yelling out, I just wait.
Sure enough, she knocks once more. Then she turns the knob. I hear her enter the room quietly. She shuts the door behind herself and then she just stands there. I don’t look up. My eyes are closed. My head is heavy. I don’t even want to think about moving, but I know she’s there. I can hear her breathing.
Fuck, I can smell her.
That mixture of citrus and vanilla is so absolutely her. She has no idea that I’ve had a crush on her for absolutely ever. Not that a sweet angel like Rose would ever look twice at a schmuck like me, but one can always dream.
She moves closer to the desk. I hear her padding softly across the room, but the thick carpet envelops most of the sound. I probably look like a huge piece of shit to her, but I don’t care at this moment, and I don’t look up. I don’t want to see what sweet little outfit she’s wearing today. I don’t want to know what tight pencil skirt she’s got on. I don’t want to see how her blouse shows off her perfectly round breasts.
I cannot think about Rose like that.
She’s my assistant: not my fuck-toy.
As much as I want her to be, that’s not who she is.
She deserves so much better than me.
“Parker,” her voice is soft, gentle. She sounds like she’s trying to coax a scared kitten out of its box. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?” She doesn’t touch me, and she doesn’t come any closer. I wouldn’t mind if she did, but I’m tense and angry today. I’m frustrated and anxious. If she’s not careful, I’ll lose all of my self-control. I’ll grab her and kiss her and make her promise to be mine.
That’s what I want.
It’s not what she needs.
As if she can sense my anxiety, she doesn’t speak again. She just waits patiently by my desk, carefully waiting for me to say something: anything. I swallow hard and try to think of something I can say to her that’s not completely stupid and completely shallow. I’m not ready to tell her what’s wrong. I’m just not.
“What happened?” She asks. She steps closer. I can smell her more clearly now. Everything about her is so damn perfect and she doesn’t even know it. She has no idea how much I want to just push her onto the desk, spread her legs, and lick her pussy until she comes. She doesn’t know that I want to rip her blouse off and watch the buttons fall absolutely everywhere. She doesn’t know that I want to lick her soft, creamy breasts until she purrs for me.
She doesn’t know any of that.
“Parker?”
“I’ll go to the meeting,” I say finally, as if that explains everything. I still don’t move. I don’t look at her. Not now. Maybe not ever. Not when I’m so fucking tense I feel like I’m going to explode.
Sex.
What I need is sex.
That’s what I need.
After work, I’ll go call one of the girls from my contacts list and I’ll have them come over. Either that or I’ll get someone from Turntable to meet up with me. Meaningless sex is exactly what I need to get my mind off of everything.
“That’s not what I asked, Parker.”
I need to stop being weak. Lamely pouting around isn’t becoming of anyone, least of all me, so I push myself up and lean back in my seat. I’m sure my shirt is wrinkled by now. Luckily, I keep an extra one at the office for times like these. We all have bad days and it’s best to be prepared. If someone spills coffee on me or I mess up my perfectly-ironed top, I don’t need to worry. Rose was actually the one who suggested I keep an extra shirt at work because there was an incident with a bowl of salsa and a new sales rep who didn’t wear her new shoes nearly as nicely as Rose does.
The poor woman twisted her ankle, slipped in her heels, and threw the salsa at me.
I did not catch it with my hands. Instead, I managed to catch the entire bowl with the front of my shirt.
That was the last time I came to work unprepared.
“Parker?”
I finally open my eyes and see Rose for the first time. She smiles at me and somehow, it calms me. Fuck. She had no idea she has this incredible impact on me. She has no idea that when I see her, the whole world makes sense. She has no idea that when I see her, somehow, everything is okay. Everything comes together.
Her dark red hair is down. She curled it today and it looks beautiful, soft. Usually, her hair looks a little wild, like her, but today, she put in a little extra effort. She looks just as beautiful on her wild days as she does today.
Her glasses are perched on the end of her freckled nose and while she complains she looks geeky, she doesn’t. She looks like a goddess: a smart, beautiful, fucking curvy goddess.
Her white blouse shows off her soft curves and the black pencil skirt makes her look like a pin-up girl from old magazines. The red stilettos complete her look, and I groan. I really should tell her to stop wearing them. They’re going to be my undoing. Besides, it’s not really safe to be wearing them on carpet. She’s going to trip one of these days, and there’s no way I could ever replace her.
I’m sad and tired and overwhelmed and despite all of that, my dick is rock fucking hard just from looking at her.
How the fuck am I going to make it through today?
“Parker,” Rose is directly in front of my desk now. She leans over and places her palms on my desk.
“Rose,” I say.
“What happened?” She asks again. Then she sits in one of the chairs in front of my desk, the ones where clients and colleagues occasionally sit during meetings. She doesn’t cross her legs. Instead, she leans forward and takes one of my hands in hers. “Tell me,” she
whispers.
“It’s Janine,” I blurt out. Forget being in control. Forget being in charge. Right now, I just need a friend. Right now, I just need someone who is going to help me through the day. The only person who knows what I went through is Rose. The only person who understands even a tiny fraction of the pain I experienced is Rose.
And she doesn’t even know that much.
She was there the night I found out about Janine and Mike. She saw my face the night I caught them. She was there when I turned around, as I went into shock from the betrayal. She was there when I whispered what I had seen. She was the one who drove me back to her home, put me to bed, promised me everything would be all right.
She was the one who promised to keep my secret, who swore she wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened to me.
She was the only one there for me.
“Oh, Parker,” Rose lets go of my hand and comes around the desk. She stands next to me, turns my chair toward her, and pulls me to my feet. Reluctantly, I move up. I allow her to pull me close to her body. I’m perfectly still as she cups my face and looks up at me.
“That’s terrible,” she whispers.
Then she hugs me.
For just a minute, I pretend everything is going to be okay. I don’t know why Rose can calm me in this way. No one else has ever been able to, yet she can. Something about her makes me feel like I’m safe, like I’m taken care of. Something about her makes me feel like the world can pass me by and nothing matters but her arms around me.
“What happened?” She whispers. She doesn’t pull away, though. She doesn’t release me from her hold. More importantly, she doesn’t judge me. She probably should. Pining over an ex-girlfriend isn’t the classiest way to spend a morning. Not that I’m pining over Janine. I don’t have feelings for her anymore, it’s just...I...
I don’t even know.
“Her mother called me this morning.” I hold Rose tightly. Her breasts are against my chest and her head nestles against me, just beneath my chin. I smell the vanilla scent of her shampoo and I close my eyes. For a minute, I feel like everything is going to be okay. As long as we’re holding each other, we’re safe, and nothing can harm us. Nothing bad can happen as long as she’s tightly in my arms and I’m in hers.
Nothing.
“Tell me,” she says.
“There was an accident. A car wreck. She didn’t make it.”
“Oh, Parker. I’m so sorry.”
I am, too. I shouldn’t be. I should feel justified, happy even. I should feel glad that Janine got what she deserved for hurting me, but she didn’t. No one deserves that. No one deserves to die alone. No one deserves to have something bad happen to them. Not like that. Not ever.
“I am, too,” I tell her.
“It’s not very fair, is it?”
“It’s not.”
“You didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
I look down at Rose and raise an eyebrow.
“You think that’s why I’m sad?”
“A little,” she says. “Janine was a big part of your life for a long time. You didn’t end on the best of terms, but that doesn’t mean you despised her.”
“I did, a little.”
Rose considers my words for a minute.
“Death can do funny things to a person,” she says. “It can make us feel a lot of different things, and when we don’t expect it, and we don’t know that it’s coming, it can make everything hurt in really deep and horrible ways.”
“Since when did you become an expert on death?”
Rose looks up at me and shrugs.
“My mom died,” she said.
“What?” I tense. I had no idea. She never told me. This wasn’t something she’d ever shared. Years of friendship, and I never knew that her mom had passed away.
Fuck.
I really am a horrible friend and a terrible boss.
“What happened?”
“There was an accident,” she says. “She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Someone robbed a convenience store and, well, my mom was there. She didn’t make it.”
I squeeze Rose, pulling her close to me once more.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to say you’re sorry just because someone died.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to say you’re sorry. I get it. You didn’t know her, and you don’t really know what to say, but don’t say you’re sorry.” Rose shakes her head and pulls out of my hug. She steps back and looks up at me. She puts a hand on her hip, but this just draws my eyes to her even more.
“That’s what people always say, Rose.”
“I know,” she says. “And it kind of sucks, Parker. Nobody likes hearing ‘I’m sorry’ when their loved one dies.”
She’s right.
She’s totally and completely right.
Talk about a generic, run-of-the-mill polite response.
“Let me try again,” I say.
“Okay.”
“Losing your mother must have been hard.”
She smiles slowly, and then grins.
“There you go, big boy. Personal growth. You’re right. It was hard, and that response is a lot more meaningful than a simple ‘I’m sorry.’ My mom was worth a lot more than a casual apology.”
“I had no idea you lost her.”
“I don’t talk about it a lot. Besides, you keep me pretty busy around here.” She waves a hand around my office and smiles. “And let’s be honest, boss, you wouldn’t be able to do it without me.”
“Very true.”
“So, when’s the funeral?”
“Saturday.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rose offers, and I nod.
“I’d like that,” I tell her honestly. Janine and I were together a long time. We may have ended our relationship terribly, but I should be at her funeral. I need to be. I need to get a little bit of closure. I need to say goodbye. Despite everything she did to me, despite how deeply she hurt me, I still feel like I should go.
I should go say goodbye.
I owe her that much.
Or maybe I just owe myself.
“But right now,” Rose says, “It’s time for the meeting.”
She looks at my tie lying on the center of the office floor, and then her gaze roams to my chest and my obviously-wrinkled shirt.
“Okay, first things first: let’s change your shirt, boss. We’ve got a presentation to give.”
4––––––––Rose
Somehow, and I don’t know how, we manage to make it through the Thomas and Johnson meeting.
Somehow, and again, I have no idea how, we manage to land the contract.
Perfect.
Apparently, Parker and I work really well together under stress because I can’t remember ever having a meeting like the encounter we had today. We waltzed into the consult and talked our hearts out. Parker was the perfect salesman and the ideal head of the company. He’s so hands-on that he had no trouble answering any of the questions about the products we can offer or the services we can provide to Thomas and Johnson.
When we first walked in, the meeting room was full of anxious-looking businessmen who were sipping coffee and obviously expecting for us to fall flat on our faces. Parker works hard, but somehow, he still does have the hint of a playboy reputation. The group seemed pleasantly surprised when he marched in, perfectly prepared, and was able to deliver and incredible offer.
I don’t know how we did it.
Parker looks like shit, and I feel like it, but we’re a good team. We’ve perfected our sales pitch and have it down to an impeccable art. Years of working together will do that to do. We work beautifully together. Our relationship at work is like a well-oiled machine. Anything the clients throw at us, we’re ready for. We can handle any question, any complaint, any concern. We can conquer anything together.
We’re a perfect fucking team.
And I’m supposed to seduce him within the next two week
s. I’m supposed to somehow approach this man and make a move on him that will land us naked together. That’s what I’m supposed to be doing right now.
Because of the dare.
Because of Stephanie.
Because I promised.
Only, now I feel guilty about it. Good. It’s about time I grew a conscious. Parker has been going through hell and all I’m thinking about is getting him into bed? It’s kind of despicable. I mean, yeah, he wasn’t dating Janine anymore. As far as I know, they hadn’t even spoken since that night. It’s obvious that he has some unresolved trauma, though, and it’s obvious that trying to get him in bed is going to just add a complication that neither one of us needs right now.
We leave the conference room together. The meeting is over, and Parker will send over all of the contracts tomorrow. The clients are happy, we’re happy, and the collaboration is going to be an incredible one.
Together, Parker and I head back to his office. We need to talk about the details of the paperwork and set up the initial payment from the company. Then we have to plan out the orders and determine exactly how many parts Thomas and Johnson want.
We have our work cut out for us.
We’re silent until we get inside his office. Then Parker closes the door, walks to a shelf, and grabs a bottle of scotch. He pours me a glass without asking if I want one. Of course, I want one. He hands it over and then pours himself a generous drink.
I sip it, watching him move throughout the office. His broad shoulders stretch the fabric of his shirt and with each move, I’m reminded just how much time he spends in the gym. Everything about him screams perfect.
Everything about him shows just how serious he is.
I imagine that Parker must be just as devoted in bed as he is in business. What would it be like to find myself under Parker King? Or would I find myself on top of him? Is he the kind of man who needs to exercise control in the bedroom? Or would he like having someone else take the reins? I bite my lip and look away.
Out of my league.
I keep thinking that he’s far too handsome to spare a girl like me a second glance, but then I think of Stephanie’s words, and I realize it’s not so insane to think about.
“So, that meeting was a doozy, huh?” I sip my drink and look around the office. The pictures on the wall show different spaces in our city. Some of the pictures are black and white, but most of them are various shades of red and orange. It complements the color scheme of his office nicely. Everything about this room screams power.