“Wednesday at six. I figure I’ll discuss the schedule during that first meeting. I’m not interested in that big a commitment, either. I just want out of my marriage, Liv.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Olivia held up her glass then drained it. “Hmmm, look at that tall drink of water over there.” She nodded toward a blond guy wearing a blue-grey suit.
“He looks too young,” I responded, having learned my lesson. I needed to stay away from the male species all together, especially until I got past my attraction to Bran.
“What about him?”
The next guy she pointed at was barely a day older. “Seriously, I’m not interested. They’re all yours.”
Leaning forward, she eyed me carefully. “Having the director’s kid working for you has really messed with your head, hasn’t it? Did something happen?”
Staring into my drink, everything that had gone on was on the tip of my tongue. But instead of speaking up and telling her what I was dealing with, I shook my head. “It’s just awkward. I don’t think I’m made for one-night stands—especially when they come back to haunt me. I don’t think I can hook-up with younger guys. I keep looking at him and thinking how he wasn’t even born when I started school. I was old enough to drink before he even hit puberty.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “So? It’s not like you were trying to sleep with him back then. He’s a twenty-year-old man. You are a stunning twenty-nine-year-old woman.”
“Almost thirty,” I pointed out.
“Semantics.” She rolled her eyes. “My point is that there’s nothing wrong with it. Men get divorced and fuck twenty-somethings all the time, no regrets. Why should it be any different for us?”
Picking up my stirrer, I swirled it through my drink. “It just feels wrong.”
“Because of the math or because you’re still into your intern?”
“The math. I’m not into him,” I responded a little too quickly.
She grinned. “Sure you aren’t.” Then she leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You obviously need another good fucking, Cor. You can’t just stop at one mind-blowing night. If you don’t want to go for the young and energetic ones, how about a little silver fox?”
“Silver what?”
She shifted her eyes to the side. “Ten o’clock. He’s been watching you since we walked in.”
I turned my head, trying to see who she was talking about.
“That’s two o’clock.”
I adjusted my gaze.
“That’s nine.”
“Oh my God, I’m shit at this game. Just point him out.”
“I can do better than that.” She smiled in the direction of a guy with dark salt-and-pepper hair who looked closer to her age than mine. He was certainly attractive. When he smiled back, his dark eyes creased at the sides. He had a strong jaw, excellent dress sense, and when Olivia beckoned him over, I noticed an air about him that looked as though he ate women for breakfast—in a good way.
“No. Don’t call him over. What is with you and needing to pimp me out every chance you get? Sex isn’t the solution to everything. In fact, it’s created pretty much every single one of my problems of late.”
Looking at me, she grinned. “But it’s so much fun.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “He was probably looking at you anyway,” I hissed.
“Ladies.” The silver fox—as Olivia called him—said when he arrived at our table, his eyes hungry. “Can I interest you in a drink?”
I opened my mouth, ready to say ‘no thank you.’ When Olivia jumped in and spoke ahead of me.
“She’ll have a vodka martini. I, on the other hand, already have a drink waiting for me at the bar. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
Giving me a wink, she stood and sauntered to the bar where the guy she’d been eyeing off earlier was waiting. Sure enough, he handed her a drink the moment she stepped into his space. How the hell did she do that? There must have been signals. I didn’t even see it happen.
I turned back to my new ‘friend’, who had slipped into Olivia’s newly vacated seat. “I’m really sorry about her. I hope you don’t mind getting stuck with me instead.”
He smiled and signalled for the waitress. “I’m sure your friend is lovely, but it isn’t her I’m interested in.”
“OK.” I smiled in return. “Although, I’ll warn you, I’m not much company tonight.”
“Rough week at work?” He placed our order with the waitress and asked for it to be put on his tab: a vodka martini for me and a Scotch on the rocks for himself. Macallan. Hmmm, top shelf.
“Isn’t every week a rough week when it comes to work?” I responded.
“I suppose it depends on the work. I’m Tim.” He held out his hand, palm up. When I took it, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.
“Cora.” His hands were really soft. Softer-than-mine soft. And this close up, I could see that he was probably even older than Olivia, which meant he was over a decade older than me and didn’t seem to give a fuck that he was. He was hitting on me like he deserved it.
I glanced to where Olivia sat at the bar, laughing up a storm while flirting wildly with her new plaything. Touché, Olivia, touché. She’d turned the tables on me to make a point. And it worked.
“What do you do for a living, Cora?”
As I began my answer, my eyes drifted to the entrance where a rather large and familiar figure stood, dressed in thigh-hugging dark jeans and a royal-blue dress shirt, tucked in at the waist, cuffs rolled to his elbows. Seeing him caused my heart to squeeze in my chest. How did he know I was here?
I stumbled over my words, struggling to form complete sentences until our drinks were delivered and I summarised with, “It’s really boring actually. Why don’t you tell me what you do?”
Tim launched into a speech about logistics and supply chains that I tried my best to listen to, but ultimately didn’t hear because my attention couldn’t break away from those intense green eyes, watching me from across the room. Just his presence stole my breath and made my whole body tingle. Based on his stance and tense body language, he was pissed. I knew without a doubt that he would cause a scene if I didn’t get to him fast.
“I’m sorry, Tim.” I interrupted him and stood, touching my head to feign an ailment of some sort. “I’m actually feeling really unwell. I need to go.”
He seemed legitimately concerned. “Can I do something to help you? Call a cab or something?”
“No. I’m fine. I’m sorry I have to cut this short. It was really lovely meeting you.”
“Perhaps we can do this another time then?” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.
Taking it, I thanked him. “Of course,” I lied. Then, with my eyes on Bran, silently warning him not to approach, I made my way over to Olivia and touched her shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, her smile dropping slightly from her lips.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. I have an awful headache all of a sudden. Are you fine to get home on your own?”
She stepped away from her date for a moment. “Not feeling the silver fox?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. I just don’t feel well. Will you be okay?”
“Of course I will.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve been doing this solo for years, honey. I know how to take care of myself. Besides, I don’t think I’m going home tonight if you get what I mean.” She grinned and gave me a wink.
I laughed. “Well, you have fun and call me tomorrow?”
Leaning in, she gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. “We’ll have lunch. Make sure you look after yourself.”
“You too.”
Once she returned her attention to her dark-haired conquest, I headed for the lifts and got on, my eyes still filled with warning as I shot a look in Bran’s direction. What the hell was he doing here? Couldn’t he take a hint?
He slipped into the elevator a few seconds behind me.
“Are you following me?” I hissed when the doors closed.
“Were you just on a fucking date?” he demanded in return.
I stared up at him, refusing to answer until he answered me. We glared at each other, travelling to the ground level in static silence, attraction and frustration crackling in the air between us.
“Fuck,” he growled, snapping to action. His hands slid into my hair on either side of my head as his mouth collided with mine. I fell against the wall of the elevator, feeling it rock slightly as my hands twisted in the fabric of his shirt. His tongue took control of mine, turning me into that woman who was incapable of controlling herself after the simplest touch. He had a power over me I couldn’t describe. I could tell myself that we were bad for each other, I could understand the reasons and take steps to make it a reality, but the moment he touched me, I was gone. It didn’t make sense.
Stopping with a jar, the lift chimed then opened, giving us that injection of reality we needed to break apart. “Get off me.” I pushed against his chest and stormed off the elevator. He caught me by the arm and I spun around to confront him. “You don’t get to bully me into being with you, Bran. You don’t get to follow me around and force whatever this is to happen.”
“I didn’t follow you. I’m not a fucking stalker. Although you’re making me feel like one. I went to the office after class to see if you were still there. The name of this place was written on your notepad. I didn’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out you’d be here.” He stood a little straighter, his height slightly intimidating when combined with his anger. “What the fuck happened, Cora? One minute you’re yelling at me for talking to some girl, and the next you’re trying to ghost me and hook-up with some guy who’s way too old for you.”
A burst of laughter escaped my chest and I turned away, evading his grip and making it out onto the street. He followed hot on my heels and grabbed my arm again, spinning me to face him.
“Talk to me,” he demanded.
“Talk to you? About what? The ridiculousness of what you just said? Or the insanity of this whole situation?” I raked my hands through my hair then held up my fingers, counting off items as I spoke. “First of all, if that guy up there is too old for me, then by that same reasoning, I’m too old for you. Secondly, this thing going on between us…it’s mental. I’m your boss. There might not be a policy against inter-office relationships, but there is an ethical reason why people in a position of power shouldn’t date their subordinates. Thirdly, you and I obviously can’t separate what’s going on between us and our work. We fucked in the archive room, Brandon. Even worse than that, we almost got caught—by your father, no less. And to put the cherry of insanity on top of the crazy cake, we just. Kept. Fucking.”
He reached out to me, and I nearly melted as I noticed his eyes softening. But I flinched out of the way.
“No. Don’t touch me. I can’t think when you touch me.”
“Doesn’t that tell you something?”
“Yes. It tells me that I need to stay away from you.”
“You want this to be over?” His eyes twitched slightly, but he kept his voice even.
“Yes! It needs to be over. I’ve worked too long and too hard to lose my job, my career prospects. I want to be a barrister, Bran. I’m never going to get accepted into the bar course if my reputation is screwed because I got caught screwing you.”
Inhaling through his nose, he straightened up then looked down the street. There were people milling about, some eyeing us carefully as if they were worried we were about to throw down.
“You want us to be over,” he repeated. And I nodded, my stomach a tight ball of emotion as I forced the movement.
“We don’t work.”
His arm shot out, and he grabbed my hand and pulled. “Come with me.”
“No, Bran.” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. I was almost running to keep up with him. “Let go.”
“You want us over? Fine. But there’s something you need to witness first.”
Pulling me along with long angry strides, he walked me almost a full city block before finding his destination.
“A strip club?” I asked. What the hell?
“Keep walking.” He tugged my arm.
When we walked through the door, a dark blanket of heat and sound wrapped around our heads. The lights were low with a slight red hue to them, making the whole room feel much more surreal than it would otherwise be. There were men everywhere: in groups, alone. There were women too, some watching the show, some sitting within the groups of men. But there were no women alone. Well, besides the strippers. But they were easy to spot because they were wearing underwear that barely covered their assets. The girl flicking her hair on stage wasn’t even wearing that much. She was completely naked, holding on to the pole as she lifted her legs into the shape of a V, showing everyone exactly what she ate for breakfast.
I looked away. I hated this.
Just as I was about to demand an answer to why he brought me here, Bran touched one of the working girls on the arm. She turned, and the moment she spotted him, she grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. The way she lingered while he spoke into her ear, her arms still resting over his shoulders, I assumed the knowledge between them was intimate. My stomach twisted and my eyes burned. Is this what he wanted me to see? That he didn’t need me to get laid? I already fucking knew that. I tugged my arm free. I wanted to get out of there. I needed to go.
No farther than two steps to freedom, his strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me against his chest. When his mouth touched against my ear, my brain fogged. I needed this to stop. He couldn’t keep touching me when I was trying to do what was right.
“Don’t go running now. This is what you want, Cora.”
“I didn’t ask to come here.”
Pulling back, his eyes met mine, full of dark determination that frankly scared the life out of me. I didn’t think he was going to hurt me physically, but I had a terrible feeling that whatever was about to happen would hurt a hell of a lot more than anything physical could.
“Let me go.”
He shook his head, then turned and pulled me through the crowd until we came to a door where the stripper he spoke to waited. She looked at me with a lustful grin then beckoned us inside.
“I don’t want whatever this is,” I yelled, shoving against his immoveable side.
Using both hands on either side of me, he pushed me until I was sitting on a couch. Then he took my bag and opened it up, pulling out Tim’s business card and tearing it in half. He threw the torn pieces on the floor. “We had an agreement,” he spat, dropping my bag on the couch next to me. “Tonight, with that guy, you broke it.” He pointed to the torn pieces on the floor. “If you want us over, sit and watch.”
“What?”
“Sit and watch,” he snapped, taking a seat across from me. “If you make it to the end, I’ll let you go. Hell, I’ll even quit the internship. You’ll never see me again.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then our arrangement stands, and this ends when we’re both done. Not with you trying to force me away before I’ve had my fill. Not with you deciding to go on a date with some other guy when you promised yourself to me.” The volume of his voice rose, his eyes a furious storm that had me close the tears.
“It wasn’t a date,” I argued.
“Then what was it?” he bellowed.
“None of your business,” I shouted back. “I don’t want you.”
“Then this won’t bother you a bit.”
He was playing with me, trying to make me jealous by bringing me here and paying a stripper to give him a lap dance. If there was a time when our age difference was so glaring, this childish act was it.
“Go on then,” I spat, folding my arms across my chest as I sat back, challenging him.
As the stripper moved over to him and climbed on his lap, I began to shake. Just seeing her young, tight, and impossib
ly slim body moving over him was hard enough. But I forced myself to watch, knowing I needed to make him understand that I was serious—he and I couldn’t work. We couldn’t exist as fuck buddies. Things were too intense for that. If we continued with this, we’d mess up our lives and each other. Then at the end of it, I’d be the one left alone and jobless; ruined and bitter. After the mess my marriage had become, I couldn’t do that to myself. I needed to walk away to protect myself, to protect my heart. One heartbreak was enough for me.
She removed her bra. Her body rolled as she pressed her perfect tits against his face. His hands came up and took a hold of her hips. That was how he held me. As I watched his fingers dig in, my heart jumped into my throat and my eyes burned. Why was he touching her?
With my heart hammering, I tightened my arms, my fingers digging into my flesh to try and stop myself from crying. Why was he doing this? What was he trying to prove? That I wanted him so much it was a sickness? He was only proving he could be callous and spiteful. But why was he hurting me? Why was I letting him? This was even worse than walking in on Jack and Sally. In contrast, this was intentional. Acted out in front of me to cause the maximum amount of pain. Why did I deserve that? Why? I wanted to be sick. I couldn’t watch. But I had to. I needed this to be over.
Then she slid from his lap to the floor on her knees and my chest gripped tight in a blind panic. I couldn’t watch. I couldn’t watch. No. no. no. no. This was not happening. Her hands ran down his chest, landing on his belt. I closed my eyes, turning away.
“Watch!” Bran bellowed.
I pressed my eyes tighter, tears streaking down my cheeks as I shook my head. Then I heard a zip. “Enough,” I shrieked, my tears wracking my body. “Enough!”
Shaking my head faster, I covered my face with my hands. Rocking back and forth, crying violently. The door opened and closed with a burst of sound then silence, and for a second I thought I was alone. But then large arms wrapped around me and Bran dragged me onto his lap, his mouth pressing kisses against the top of my head. I buried my face in his neck to avoid the reality of another woman’s scent on his clothes.
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