Please (Please #1)

by Willow Summers

  “Oh,” I said in relief. He was a dick, but I needed the paycheck. “Well, if I don’t have to work, then I don’t need my laptop. Although…I suppose getting online would still be nice.” My phone’s screen was cracked and I’d given back Kimberly’s computer. I was really glad Hunter had chosen a laptop instead of a desktop for my work computer.

  I moved around the desk to close everything up.

  “Why don’t you have a personal computer?” Hunter asked.

  Apparently everyone had wads of cash to buy electronics in his opinion. “It broke.” A thought occurred to me. I paused with my laptop half in my computer bag. “This’ll work outside of the network, right? It doesn’t have any special encryption or anything like that?”

  “We’re not the CIA, Olivia,” Hunter said in a dour voice.

  “You think you’re important enough to be,” I muttered as I returned to my computer. His fabric made a silky sound, indicating he’d shifted. Which also probably meant he’d heard that.

  Oops.

  I looped the computer case over my shoulder and slung my handbag over my forearm. He started moving as I came around the desk. No words marred the silence. We rode the elevator in silence, too. And then crossed the lobby and walked out onto the sidewalk, all without saying a syllable.

  His body moved with a rigidity that implied he realized I wasn’t acting with my normal gabby candor. He made no move to question the difference, though. He didn’t even glance my way, other than to make sure I was moving through whatever door he was holding open for me.

  He either knew our earlier situation bothered me, and didn’t care, or just generically knew something was wrong, and didn’t care. Either scenario amounted to the same thing. He was an ass. If I had better balance in these heels, I’d be tempted to give him a kick.

  We exited the building into the October sunshine with silence pressing against us. One thing was for certain—if we went to lunch like this, I would break down in tears. I needed some time to rebuild my armor.

  “I think I’ll just head home, if that’s okay?” I said as his hand reached out to guide me to the right.

  He paused. I angled my face to the ground, unwilling to meet his hard stare.

  He said, “I’ll have the car brought around.”

  “No, it’s fine.” I took a step away. “It’s the middle of the day—I can handle it.”

  “Olivia.” The power in his voice dribbled down my spine and sent tingles working back up. Heat spread through my middle and pooled low. I stepped closer to him without meaning to, wanting that heat. Needing his touch again. Wanting his protection even though there was nothing to protect me from except himself.

  My biggest mistake had been that first “yes.”

  “You will take a car home,” he continued in a voice that brooked no argument. “There is no need to brave public transportation when you don’t have to.”

  I closed my eyes, hating myself as I nodded. A tear leaked out, making me turn away to hide my face.

  “Mr. Ramous—I need the car brought around front. You’ll be taking Miss Jonston home,” he said into what I presumed was his phone. I couldn’t be sure, however, since I was blinking profusely up at the sky in the other direction, letting the crisp air dry my eyes.

  A moment later, his voice softened as he said, “Olivia, look at me.”

  I felt the pull to turn, but resisted. The last thing I needed was for him to see how he’d affected me.

  “Olivia—” He cut off as the sleek black car drifted down the street. It stopped in front of us with hazards flashing as Mr. Ramous stepped out in all his bulk.

  “I was just down in the alley waitin’, sir,” Mr. Ramous said as he opened the back door and stood to the side. “Thought you might want a ride to lunch.”

  Hunter’s touch on the small of my back shocked me with electricity, making me jump. I stepped away quickly before walking to the car. Once seated, I took time to carefully stow my bags on the seat next to me so as not to have to look up at those sexy brown eyes. The door closed a moment later, but only when Mr. Ramous sank into his seat and pulled away from the curb did I chance a look out the window.

  Hunter stood on the sidewalk, watching the car pull away with his hands in his pockets, a consternated look on his face.

  “He can be a hard man to work for,” Mr. Ramous said in his barrel-chested rasp. “You never really know what he’s thinkin’, and he’s almost always strait-laced, but once you get used to him, it works out. Some men are all words, making promises and whatnot, but they don’t deliver. Mr. Carlisle doesn’t do a whole lot of promising. Or talking, even. But he shows you the money. He remembers you on Christmas, and he’s generous with buyin’ the clothes and things like that. He got my wife a set of earrings last year for our wedding anniversary. He’s a good man; you just wouldn’t know it unless you hung around a while.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be hanging around,” I said as I watched the city crawl by. Traffic didn’t allow cars to get places that much faster than buses. Although the leather seats sure beat plastic, and Mr. Ramous’ conversation was much better than that of a stinky man mostly talking to imaginary people.

  “Yeah, I was that way in the beginning, too. I mean, the man doesn’t even say please, you know what I’m sayin’? Just orders you around. Even the assholes—excuse my language—say please. They don’t mean it, but they say it. But like I said, I got used to it.”

  I could deal with the no “please” or “thank you” situation. I just couldn’t deal with the “fuck me, now leave” mentality.

  “Well, I’ll see out the month and then probably move somewhere else in the company,” I said.

  “Gotta do what’s best for you, that’s true.” Mr. Ramous’ big hands feathered the wheel through his hands as he turned. After a moment, the car slowed to a stop in front of my apartment complex. He slapped the hazard button before rolling out of his seat. This man did not care about parking places—he just stopped where he pleased.

  Not that the motorists behind him would say boo once they saw his size…

  My door opened. “Okay, Miss Jonston.” Mr. Ramous held out a hand for the computer bag.

  “Oh, no, I’m fine,” I said, climbing out of the car.

  “Are you sure, Miss Jonston? Wearing high heels is work enough—no sense in carrying things, too. I can take it up for you.”

  I laughed as tears came to my eyes again, his unexpected kindness contrasting wickedly with Hunter’s unfeeling dismissal. Then, once started, I couldn’t stop. The pain welled up as I thought of Hunter’s disinterested look as he pulled down my skirt. His cold precision as he buckled his pants. And then just turning away, as if I had disappeared from the room. As if I’d just brought him coffee.

  I wiped at the tears furiously as a giant arm came around my shoulders. “Ah, don’t cry, Miss Jonston.” Mr. Ramous pulled me into a bear hug that cracked my back. “Whatever he did, he didn’t mean it that way. Trust me, there’s been times when I wanted to crack his skull. But he’s just closed off—he doesn’t know he’s doing it. I really believe that. He was raised a certain way. You know those filthy rich types—they are bred without feelings.”

  My watery laugh muffled into Mr. Ramous’ huge chest. “Thanks.”

  “Nothin’ to it.” He released me and looked down into my face, concern stealing his expression. “Just gotta get used to him.”

  “Okay.” I sniffed with a smile. “A work in progress. And call me Livy.”

  He grinned and nodded. “Sure, Livy, but only when the boss isn’t around. He has certain ideas about protocol—hence this expensive suit. I sure don’t need a suit this expensive, not to drive a car. But hey, he’s paying.”

  “That’s what I thought when I bought these clothes.” I walked toward the doors of my apartment complex.

  “I’m Bert, by the way. Since we’re using first names.” Bert hurried in front of me and held open the door. “I have your number, so I’ll just text you
with my driver’s line. When you need a ride to work or to get home, you just call me. Mr. Carlisle said I was to watch out for you.”

  “Thank you.” I wiped away another tear at his continued kindness and escaped inside. I needed to come up with a game plan where Hunter was concerned, or I’d never make out the month.

  Chapter Nine

  “Kimberly?” I held my phone to my ear as I sat on my bed, my work computer out but closed in front of me. Distant voices echoed from Kimberly’s phone, as if I was listening to a conversation on the other side of a door.

  A moment later, I heard, “Hi, Olivia. Sorry—I was just getting a cup of coffee. So I hear you took the job!”

  “Did you hear that from Hunter?” I couldn’t keep the accusation from infusing my words.

  “No. I heard that from Margaret. She was one of the girls that made it to round two. She works in the company and knows someone in human resources. She doesn’t know who you are, or anything, but said the girl Hunter was after ended up signing the contract.”

  “The standard one,” I clarified with a firm voice. “The contract just to be in the company.”

  “You didn’t sign the other one?”

  “You can’t say anything…”

  The phone shifted. “You know I won’t! I don’t want Hunter Carlisle as an enemy.”

  “Well, I have a month to decide about the other one. And that’s kind of the reason—”

  “Are you serious?” she screeched. I flinched, yanking the phone away from my ear. When the high-pitched squeal was gone, I chanced listening in again. “I have never heard of him making an exception on that part. Not since he started it. He’s really private—I’m blown away. He really wants you. See? Didn’t I tell you? You’re a diamond in the rough, girl. I can’t wait to tell that jerk Jonathan who you’re working for now. He’ll flip. He put in his résumé at that company and didn’t hear squat.”

  “Don’t tell Jonathan.” I rubbed my eyes. All the emotional stress of the day had me exhausted.

  “You’re right. It’ll be better if he hears from someone else. That’ll teach him to just go by appearances. I mean—you know, dress and whatever.”

  “The reason I called, though,” I said hesitantly, “is because I…” I took a deep breath. “I sorta gave in. With the personal thing. Not the contract, but… I just couldn’t say no…”

  “Oh Lord,” she said softly. “He finally got you. Took him long enough. How was it? Was it great?”

  My face burned. “Yes,” I admitted. “But…after…” Insecurity ate away at me. What if he usually took more time with other girls?

  Summoning my courage, because knowledge was important, I hedged. “He was really distant after.”

  “Oh. Don’t worry about that. And don’t feel embarrassed, because I talked to a few other girls who made it to round two when I did, and he does that to everyone. He is basically still climaxing when he walks away. I mean, I hardly noticed, because I was still…you know. But he was dressed and back on his computer before I even got off the desk. He was looking over one of my legs to see the screen! Ordinarily that would be really embarrassing to admit, I know, but he does it to everyone. Especially the admin. He never lingers.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t just me. It didn’t forgive his treatment, but it helped with my confidence issues. “He fixed my clothes, but yeah, then he just shut off.”

  “He fixed your clothes?” Kimberly asked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “You know…like…put my underwear right and pulled down my skirt. We didn’t remove any clothes.” I covered my face with my hand. “How are you not embarrassed by this stuff?”

  “Huh.” Kimberly went quiet for a moment. “He’s acting really strange with you. I wonder if he’s going through a midlife crisis or something. Or maybe he’s worried you’ll sue or something. Because, no, he never usually bothers with the other party. His last admin, Jacinta, always said she had to hurry and get out of his way. That’s the gig.”

  I flicked a piece of fluff off my bed. “I’m not into that gig. I wasn’t…into that treatment.” I hated the tremor in my voice.

  Kimberly tsked into the phone. “Oh, sweetie.” I could imagine her pouting in response to my distress. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s just a lone wolf type of guy. A lot of the business guys are like that. He focuses on business, and forgets that people have more emotion than computers. It has nothing to do with you personally.”

  “It sure felt like it did.” I wiped my cheek again and stared at the ceiling. “I think I’m too sensitive for these shenanigans.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, and I knew it was filled with support and commiseration. “It’s probably because Jonathan treated you so poorly. I mean, you’ve had one-night stands, haven’t you?”

  “Two, and both as a result of crazy parties.”

  “Well, then?”

  “Yeah, but…the mistake was mutual on those. I was sprinting for the door a moment after the guy tried to gnaw his arm off to get it out from under me.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Kimberly asked softly. “He’d understand if you left, I know he would.”

  “The money is too good. And plus, I need to do the month to get a job in his company.”

  “Yeah, my dad was shocked to hear Mr. Carlisle wanted you that bad. He reamed out the head of IT for lowballing you. So, what do you think? Just wear a thick chastity belt for three weeks?”

  “Probably.” I wiped away more moisture and fell back on my pillow. “I don’t really have any other choice.”

  “Don’t look him in the eyes—he can’t hypnotize you that way. In fact, just don’t look at any part of him. There isn’t one thing on that man that isn’t geared toward hypnosis.”

  I laughed despite myself. “I know, he’s too gorgeous for real life. Being rich, too—it just isn’t fair.”

  “You’ll make it through this, like you do with everything else. And you’ll come out on top. You just have to stay the course.”

  “Yeah.” My phone buzzed in my ear. I pulled it away from my face and saw a text from an unknown number that said, “This is Bert. Here is my driver #.”

  I put the phone back to my ear. “Well, I should go. I have to go grocery shopping if I want to eat tonight.”

  “A few people are meeting for drinks tomorrow night if you want to go?”

  “Jonathan’s not going to be there, is he?”

  “No. I told Jen not to invite him, since I figured you’d want to get out.”

  I braced the phone between my shoulder and cheek as I opened up the laptop. “Now that I have a little money to blow?”

  “Exactly!”

  I laughed as I signed on. “Okay, but just for a little while. I also have a job to get up for, whether I want to or not.”

  “Yay! Okay, talk tomorrow. And don’t stress about this Carlisle thing—you’ll get used to him. And when you do, make use of him, because someone that good with his hands shouldn’t go to waste.”

  I scoffed in surprise. “Dark horse!” I accused.

  She giggled. “The man brings it out in me, what can I say. Just don’t tell Robby.”

  “As if. Okay, bye.”

  “Bye.”

  I dropped the phone to the side as I pulled up my email. I couldn’t help myself. I had three, one from the marketing guy blessing me for my promptness, one from the entertainment team talking about a walk-a-thon, and finally one from Hunter I hadn’t opened yet.

  I let the little white arrow hover over his name, debating whether I would open it. Then, not able to let an email sit idle, I clicked.

  From: Hunter Carlisle

  To: Olivia Jonston

  Subject: Charity Dinner

  ________________________

  Olivia-

  I’ve been scheduled for a charity dinner in three weeks’ time. You are my plus one. Brenda will add the event to your calendar.

  Your dress should be formal and tasteful, but not too cons
ervative. Please choose three contenders and bring them to my office on Monday. Brenda will organize the necessary fittings.

  We’ll speak more about this next week. Make sure the date and time is open.

  H.C.

  I hit “reply” and whipped off a quick acknowledgement of having received the email.

  Dresses. I didn’t get any formal dresses; I’d just bought work attire. I’d have to hit the stores tomorrow, since who knew what time I’d start getting out of work now that I was doing some real tasks.

  And those real tasks would not include more sex.

  As I was clicking on social media, my instant messenger flashed.

  Hunter Carlisle: Why are you working?

  “Why don’t you mind your own business?” I asked the message.

  Olivia Jonston: I’m not. Just saw that email and thought I would reply.

  Hunter Carlisle is typing…

  I waited, staring at the blue font. The message disappeared, only to flash back up again. Only to disappear again. I rolled my eyes. He was probably doing something else and hadn’t realized he was typing in the IM still. I clicked over to the internet, only belatedly realizing I hadn’t signed into a VPN, which was what usually allowed someone to get into a secure server.

  Olivia Jonston: Do I not need a VPN?

  Hunter Carlisle: No. One password signs you in to everything.

  Hunter Carlisle: Wouldn’t someone as technologically proficient as yourself figure that out?

  “You got what you wanted so now you can be a dick, is that it?” I muttered at his name.

  Olivia Jonston: Sorry about that. That software isn’t widely used due to security issues.

  Hunter Carlisle: I was joking, Olivia.

  “Oh.” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, wishing I had the courage to type: “I wasn’t aware you had a sense of humor.”

  Olivia Jonston: Ah. My bad. Kay, I’m going to go.