Which means she's actually thinking about Blake. Her right index finger goes to her engagement ring. Yep. Definitely thinking about Blake.
Honeymoon period, love is sweet, etc., etc., etc. It's all a little much for me.
Our drinks—two vanilla lattes—arrive at the bar. I fasten the lids and hand Kat hers.
"When are you moving into the apartment?" She sips her drink. "Holy shit, Lizzy. You're moving into your own apartment. You're so grown up."
"I went to college last year."
"But it's your apartment."
"No. It's Odyssey Industry's apartment."
"When did you get so cynical?"
"This day four years ago. You might remember it. Early fall, leaves were changing, weather was cold. You were at a cross-country meet."
"Glibness is cowardice."
"Did you read that off a poster?"
"No." She frowns. "I still get upset when I think about that day. Sometimes I panic to the point where I can't even breathe. How can you pretend like it didn't destroy you?"
"You're the one asking why I'm cynical."
"I don't want to have this argument again." She takes a long sip. "Where's the apartment?"
"A few blocks away."
Kat sets her drink on the counter to clap her hands together. "Let's see."
In theory, there's nothing stopping us. The paperwork is done. Nick, or his moving company, has the key. It's only a matter of asking to use it.
"Okay." I take a long sip of my sweet, creamy beverage. "But I think Nick, I mean Mr. Marlowe, has the key."
"Nick?"
"He's not into formality." Such an obvious lie. She'll know I'm full of shit the second she meets him. "He's super—you'll like him."
"He sounds great. Super, actually." She grabs my hand and leads me back to the Odyssey building.
She spends the elevator ride giving me a maternal once-over. I shrug like I have no idea what she's suggesting.
The office is mostly empty. I lead Kat down the hallway to Nick's office. I knock once. "It's Lizzy. I have a question for you."
"Come in."
I push the door open and step inside before Kat. Not the best manners, but I don't want to terrify Nick with the sudden appearance of an outsider.
"My sister, Kat—" I hold out my hand like I'm presenting a queen at her coronation.
Kat steps inside. She goes up to Nick, who is standing behind his now-at-standing-level desk, and shakes his hand. "I've heard great things about you."
Nick looks at me as if to say really?
I mouth no.
His eyes lock with mine. He raises a brow. I'm not sure what he's saying, only that I'm supposed to be in on a private joke.
My stomach flip-flops. He trusts me. Some part of him does.
Some part of him wants to be more than colleagues.
I clear my throat. "Do you have the key to my new apartment? Kat wants to see it while she's all the way downtown."
She nudges me in that maternal don't be so rude kind of way.
"What? You live on the Upper East Side and go to Columbia. You're very old money."
"I'm sorry my sister is such a brat." Kat shakes her head. "I'm sure she meant to say that she's excited to live on her own for the first time, and that she wants to share her happiness with the people who love her."
"I have a younger brother." He looks at Kat with understanding. "They only get more petulant as they get older."
"I'm right here." I dig my heels into the ground, but there's this lightness in my chest. Nick is making a joke about me. He's teasing me.
I study his expression. His eyes are wide, bright. He's having fun. At my expense, but still...
He likes me.
Not that it matters. I can't do anything about it.
He opens one of his desk drawers, pulls out the key, and offers it to me. "I'll have the doorman let the moving company in."
Kat's jaw drops. "You already have a moving company lined up?"
"We'll discuss it later." I take the key, my gaze fixing on Nick. "Thank you. I'll see you Monday. Have a nice weekend. I hope you think of me."
Fuck. My lips clamp together but there's no way to get the words back into my mouth. I do want him thinking of me, desperately cursing himself for writing me off, but I can't tell him to think of me. We both know what that means.
His eyes go wide. His voice gets rough, commanding. "I will."
"Great." He's going to think of me when he fucks himself. It's hot in here. "I'll think of you." As soon as I'm alone.
Do I sound as desperate as I feel?
Kat is staring at me with a concerned look. I nod another goodbye and pull her out of the room.
As sweet and polite as always, she says nothing until we're alone in the elevator.
"What was that?" she asks.
"What was what?"
"Think of me? I'm not that naïve."
The elevator opens up to the lobby. I step onto the tile floor. "It was nothing. Inside joke."
"An inside joke about asking your boss to touch himself to you?"
"No..." I try and fail to think of another interpretation.
"I wish you wouldn't lie to me."
"It was nothing. Nick and I—"
"You called him Nick again."
"Did I?"
"Want to tell me what else is going on?"
"A joke. Can't explain it." Because she'll freak out about my bad decisions. "It's no big deal."
She looks me over in that maternal way. "So there's no reason why you were eye-fucking him?"
"I was not eye-fucking him. Since when do you say 'eye-fucking'?"
"Since now."
We're quiet as I lead her to the apartment building. It's about ten blocks away.
Kat is just as in awe as I was. Living with a billionaire hasn't spoiled her. She looks around the room, practically pressing her nose against the glass.
"The light here is amazing." She goes to the kitchen and examines all its fixtures. "But it's so small. Where am I supposed to sleep when I visit you?"
"You mean if you can't bear to take Blake's limo back to the Upper East Side?"
"I'm aware that he's rich. You don't have to remind me every time you talk about him."
"Sorry." My gaze goes to the balcony, my body hot and cold all at once. I need to get Nick out of my head. Even if he deserves to suffer with the kind of desire that is killing me. I turn to Kat. "Meeting loverboy for dinner?"
"Not till 8:30. Want to come? There's a great Thai place across the street from his office. I'm not sure if you realized it, but Blake is rich, so he'll probably buy your green curry."
"Blake is rich? I had no idea. I thought he was squatting in the massive apartment."
"It's a shock. Do you need time to absorb it?"
I shake my head. "We've got an hour and a half. Come shopping with me. I already wore the only two work-appropriate outfits I own."
"You know I'll only slow you down."
"Yeah, but for some reason I like your company."
We go to Century 21, a massive department store with terrible atmosphere and great discounts. Kat approves my outfits with a bemused smile. For an artist, she knows absolutely nothing about clothes.
My first three dresses are completely work appropriate. The fourth is a clingy wrap. All I have to do is pull the bow undone and the dress slides open.
Kat raises her eyebrows. Her voice shifts to maternal mode. "You are not going to work dressed like that. Unless you work on a porn set and you're playing the secretary who wants to seduce her boss."
I laugh like I find her idea absurd. "I'd never try to seduce someone like Nick."
"No? He's tall, dark, handsome, receptive to your eye-fucking."
"He's an asshole." I swallow hard. "You think he was receptive?"
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
"He's rich. He's smart. And he's a programmer too."
"That combination is toxic. Rich, smart, male programm
ers think they're God's gift to the world."
"You just described my fiancé."
I clear my throat. "Well, he's... not as bad as he seemed at first."
"Is that your idea of a compliment?"
"No. But he's... I'm glad you're happy."
My next outfit is too sexy for work. The sheer blouse shows every inch of my bra. The skirt is tight around my ass and cut high in the back.
There's no reason to buy this. Not unless I'm going to march into Nick's office, strip to my lingerie, and demand he pay attention to me as more than an intern.
My sex clenches as the scene plays out in my head.
This opportunity is everything. But I'm considering risking it to be with him again.
What the hell is wrong with me?
"You wouldn't sleep with him?" she asks.
"You want to talk about my sex life?"
She lets out a heavy breath. "I thought about it, and you were right. I had this idea in my head of you as my innocent little sister. But you're an adult woman, and that comes with certain desires—"
God, Kat is the only person in the world who can make sex sound so After School Special.
"What kinds of desires?" I change into my next outfit. This one is too racy for work, but it's perfect for dancing. It's a low-cut black dress with a shiny zipper running from the chest to the waist. It screams undo me.
"Oh please, we both know you're a pervert. And it's fine if you don't want to talk about that with me. But if you do want to talk about it, I won't freak out. Even if it's to tell me that you're having casual sex every night. As long as you're being safe. If you're not being safe, then I'm going to freak out."
I unlock the dressing room door and step into the main room. The sweet expression falls off Kat's face. She looks me up and down.
"Now I know you're up to something." She shakes her head.
"It's for clubbing."
"What is the point of the zipper? So strangers can grope you more easily?"
"And if you wore it for Blake?"
Her cheeks turn bright red. "I'm going to use the bathroom. I'll meet you at the entrance."
"Sure thing."
I change and make my way to the register.
This job is too important to risk with sex. But there's no reason why I can't tease Nick. There's no reason why I can't change into this slinky black dress on my way out the door. No reason why I can't make sure he wants me as much as I want him.
Chapter Six
Monday morning, I go straight to Nick's office.
The room is awash in soft white light. He's standing behind his desk, all tall and statuesque.
His expression is stern. He really could be made out of stone.
I knock even though the door is wide open. "Mr. Marlowe?" I bite my tongue. I worked retail for almost three years. I know how to play nice with people who frustrate me.
"How was your weekend?"
"Great. I got a lot of thinking done." My cheeks flush.
His lip corners turn down. "Do you really want to continue this?"
"Continue what?" I play dumb.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into, Ms. Wilder."
"I'm not following."
"Yes you are."
My cheeks flush.
He knows I'm following. He knows exactly what I'm thinking. It's written all over his face. I clear my throat and smooth my blazer.
I have to ask him for something and he's not going to agree if I push him. "I apologize, sir. I'm not sure what got into me."
He nods, accepting my apology. But there's no sign he's buying my coy reaction.
He takes a step towards me. "Your apartment is ready. Fully furnished. Your belongings won't be in until the end of next week, so I had my assistant pick up a few necessities. Call if you need anything else."
"Thank you."
He steps out from behind his desk, so he's about five feet away. "Would you like a drink?" He nods to the mini-fridge.
"Alcoholic?"
"Caffeinated."
"Whatever you're having."
He kneels to open the fridge. Somehow, he looks badass and in control on one knee.
Nick pulls two cans of black iced coffee from the fridge and hands one to me.
I nod a thank you and pop it open. Not Diet Coke, but not bad.
I take a long sip. I cultivate every ounce of my courage.
I need to do this now. Before I'm too tongue-tied to speak.
Deep breath.
Here goes nothing.
I try to copy his confident posture, but my back isn't having it. "Gabriel has no interest in training me. I don't blame him, but I do expect to work with someone who is willing to teach."
His expression gets protective. "Do you have a suggestion?"
I dig my fingers into the frigid aluminum. "There are only three senior programmers at Odyssey. Somehow, I doubt that David will be any more interested in training."
Nick nods. "You'd like to work under me?"
Fuck yes. I press the can to my neck to counteract the heat spreading across my chest. "You're the most qualified person. I'll learn the most under you."
His eyes bore into me like he's examining my intentions. "I can spare two hours a day. You'll have to get to the office by 8 AM and you'll have to stay until I'm finished, so I can check your code."
I nod. "Of course."
"You'll have some twelve-hour days. Fourteen, even."
"As long as I have an hour or two for exercises. My back—"
"I remember."
"I thought that night never happened."
He frowns. "Is it going to be a problem for you, working so close to me?"
Of course. It's a problem being in the same city as you and not begging you to take control again. "If it was going to be a problem, I wouldn't ask. I want to learn everything I can from you."
"About AI?"
"What else would I mean?"
He stares back at me like he doesn't buy it. "You're not good at playing coy." He finishes his can of coffee in one swig and sets it in a recycling bin. "Lizzy—"
"Nick."
"I want to work with you. You're an excellent programmer for your experience and you have a knack for AI."
"Thank you."
"I've cut you slack because of your skill."
I swallow hard.
"But that ends now. I'm not making any more exceptions."
"Of course. This is professional. We're colleagues. That's all."
"Be here at 8 AM tomorrow. We'll work in my office, alone, until ten."
"Sure."
"If there is a problem—"
"There won't be. Thank you for the opportunity."
I hold his gaze for a moment. There's something in his eyes, something more than professionalism, but I can't place it.
My nerves are shot. I give up on coding around four and kill time playing FreeCell. When the office clears, I leave.
I go straight to my new apartment building.
The elevator is slow. I slide my key into the lock and pull the door open.
It's past sunset. Warm blue light streams in through the windows, the dark sky mixed with the yellow fluorescent lights of nearby office buildings.
I flick on the light and step into the main room. It's a small space, but it's perfect. There's a full bed against the wall. It's covered with a royal purple comforter and a lilac blanket. Paper string lights line the wall—white flowers with a pale yellow glow. The whole room is shades of cream and purple. Just like the hotel lounge where we met.
It can't be a coincidence. Nick isn't a coincidence kind of guy.
The decorations are beautiful. Feminine, soft, understated. Like that lounge. Like his idea of a woman's bedroom. I turn the main light off to see the string lights in all their glory, but something else catches my attention—
The view is even better in the dark. I soak it in for as long as I can.
I have my own apartment. Even if Nick decorat
ed it. Even if Nick arranged it. Even if Nick is practically in my fucking bed.
It's still mine.
The floor is dead at 8 AM. The only sounds come from the end of the hall. I slide my coat off my shoulders as I make my way to Nick's office.
He's standing at his computer, his attention on the screen. There are two takeout coffee cups on his desk.
He nods to the one on the right then to a small white paper bag on top of the mini-fridge. "Cream and sugar. There's milk in the office kitchen if you prefer that."
"This is fine." I fix my coffee with two packets of half and half and two of brown sugar. "No bagels?"
He looks at me like he's trying to figure out if I'm teasing.
"I'm kidding." I look up at Nick, motioning to my coat. "Is there some place where I should put this?"
"Anywhere is fine."
Doubtful. His office is incredibly neat. I didn't notice before, but it's well decorated. The minimalist artwork is abstract shapes in bold colors. They match the clean white walls and the sleek black desk.
I set my coat on the couch. Such a nice couch. It would be so easy for him to throw me onto it, to pull up my skirt, roll down my tights, and press his palm against me.
My sex clenches. I can't keep thinking about him like this. I need to get a hold of myself.
I take a sip and set my coffee at the end of the desk. It's currently in standing mode. "The apartment looks beautiful. Thank you."
"I'm glad you like it. You deserve the best."
What the hell is that supposed to mean? I look for something to focus on. His office is well decorated too. Mostly black and white with hints of color. "Did you decorate your office?"
He nods. "Yes. I dabble in design."
"And my apartment?"
"That too."
"Oh."
He was in my apartment, picking out the lights and the bedspread.
He picked out my fucking bedspread.
His voice calls my attention. Back to business, thank goodness.
"Are you okay with standing?" he asks.
"Sure. Can I take off my shoes?" I motion to my black pumps. Not the most comfortable for standing.
"Of course."
I slide out of my shoes and press my toes into the squishy anti-fatigue mat.
It must be so handy having a desk that can be any height you want. There are so many possibilities. He could plant me on my back and spread my legs or press my stomach flat against the desk and take me from behind.
Dirty Boss Page 5