by Amelia Stone
But it was not my job to think about him naked. It was not my job to wonder whether his broad chest was as muscular as it looked under his shirts. It was not within my duties to imagine kicking off my shoes so I’d be shorter, giving him a better angle to kiss the daylights out of me. And it was definitely not my job to contemplate whether his penis was as thick and meaty as the rest of him.
Ugh. No. I was not going to think about his penis. I was not going to think about his anything, not anymore. Not his freckles, not his forearms, not his velvety voice, and definitely not his mesmerizing hazel eyes.
What I would think about, whenever my mind got to daydreaming about that stupid hobo beard and how it would feel against my skin, was how it actually felt when he hurt me. How it would cut through me whenever he’d look at me like I was beneath him, how condescending his tone was when he spoke to me. I’d remember how he always had the upper hand in this frustrating cat-and-mouse game we’d been playing.
I’d remind myself that I was getting tired of it, growing weary of the little pranks and arguments that I never seemed to win. It wasn’t working. He was, and always would be, uninterested.
“So, what do you say?” Graham gave me another magazine-cover smile, and automatically, I smiled back.
“Morris!”
Julian’s angry bark cut off my reply, and I suppressed a sigh as I turned to see why he’d ventured out of his office. He had his own bathroom in there, as well as his own fridge and microwave, so other than meetings, he rarely left his little sanctum.
As he charged into the outer office, I took in his expression. It would seem he was still in a mood, and judging by the direction of his glare, poor Graham was going to have to bear the brunt of it.
Graham’s green eyes darted to me, his smile apologetic. Then he straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders as though preparing for battle.
Smart man.
“Good afternoon, sir,” he said, sounding as friendly as a golden retriever.
“Did Hitchcock send you up here with the final design specs?” Julian snapped.
Graham nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. He asked me to go through them with you, though, because he and I talked it over, and we thought a change to the-”
“Did I ask for any changes, Morris?”
Graham took a deep breath, clearly trying not to let Julian’s combative behavior get to him. “No, sir, but-”
“Stop calling me ‘sir,’ goddamn it. It’s Morgan.”
“Okay,” Graham said slowly. “Morgan. Hitchcock and I talked it over, and we both thought the design could be streamlined a bit.”
“You both thought this?”
Graham nodded, giving Julian a cautious smile as he handed over a manila folder I hadn’t noticed until then. Predictably, Julian didn’t even bother to open it.
“And where exactly did this idea originate?” Julian’s eyes were dangerously narrow, and suddenly I wanted to shout out a warning. I’d seen that look on his face more times than I could count. Graham was about to get his face chewed off.
Graham seemed oblivious, though, as he gave Julian a confident smile. “Well, me, but Hitchcock thought it was solid, and-”
“Morris, do I pay you to pitch your design ideas?”
“Um, yes?” Graham seemed confused, and I couldn’t blame him. That was actually his job description. MorTech made computer processors, and those processors were designed by Engineering. It was his department’s entire purpose.
“Let me clarify,” Julian said in a deceptively calm, almost bored voice. “We are less than three weeks to the launch of the MorPro6. We have been testing that processor for months now, and we’re already contracted to install it in more than six million machines by the end of the year.” Julian took a step forward. “So explain to me why you thought now was a good time to pitch a radically new design for a product that is days away from being market ready?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s radically-” Graham stopped when he finally caught the subtle shake of my head. “Um. I’m sorry?” He blew out a frustrated breath as he continued to backpedal. “Never mind. The design is good as is.”
“And tell me something else, Morris.” Julian took another step forward, ignoring Graham’s apology. “Do I pay you to hit on my assistant?”
I inhaled sharply, looking up at him with wide eyes. That was completely uncalled for, and honestly, none of his freaking business!
But the scolding I planned to give him died on my tongue as I took in his expression. I’d never seen him look so angry. His pale, freckled skin was flushed, his eyes were hard, and even his stance was combative, his feet planted wide and his arms crossed over his broad chest. I did a double take, realizing he was mere inches from me, angled toward me in a way that seemed almost… possessive.
Oh my God. Was Julian actually jealous right now?
“No, of course you don’t pay me to, um.” Graham caught my eye, giving me a look that plainly said ‘SOS.’
But I didn’t come to his rescue, because I was too busy inside my head, my wheels spinning like crazy. Julian was jealous. Of Graham. Because he was flirting with me. And I was kinda-but-not-really flirting back. To the outside observer, my usual smiles and laughs probably made it look like I was receptive to Graham’s advances. Only I knew I’d been about to turn him down yet again.
But why would Julian be jealous? He made his dislike of me clear every single time I was within his sight – through email and text, too. His condescending tone sounded loud and clear in every communication.
No, he couldn’t possibly be riding the green-eyed monster. I had to be imagining it.
Except that he was glaring at Graham like a five-year-old who’d just had his favorite toy stolen out from under him.
“Then stop wasting time,” Julian barked. “Take these back and tell Hitchcock we’re not making any changes. You can submit a design for a new model at the next All In.” He held out the folder, jiggling it impatiently when Graham didn’t immediately take it.
After a moment, Graham nodded, looking disappointed. The All In meetings allowed anyone in the company to submit ideas for new products, policies, or procedures, or really anything to make the company better. They happened once a year, and the next one wouldn’t be until July. Graham had probably spent a lot of time on that design, and now he would have to sit on it for almost a year – and by that time, it would likely be obsolete.
“And Morris, I don’t want to see you back on this floor unless it’s work-related.” Julian glared at Graham as though he was trying to kill him with his eyes, and Graham nodded.
I watched Graham leave without any further ado, his shoulders slumped in defeat. And that really upset me. He was a hard worker, and from what I’d seen, he put his all into this company. He didn’t deserve to be scolded like a misbehaving child.
“What the fuck was that about?”
Julian’s harsh tone interrupted my thoughts, and I frowned. Then I stood, because he seemed less intimidating that way. When I wore my four-inch heels, we were the same height. And I needed to be on an equal playing field for the conversation that was about to happen.
Conversation. Argument. Six of one, half dozen of the other, where Julian was concerned.
“I might ask the same thing.”
“Excuse me?” His glare caused a shiver to race up my spine, and I sent a prayer up, thanking God that I’d worn a padded bra that day. This infuriating man did not need to know that he made my nipples hard whenever he snarled at me.
“What did Graham ever do to deserve that kind of treatment?” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to look tougher. Take No Prisoners Taylor, that was me.
It was an act, but I was a skilled performer. After all, I was rarely as happy as the woman I presented to the world.
“Oh, God forbid I be mean to the president of your fan club,” he sneered.
I huffed. “My fan club? What on Earth are you even talking about?”
He took
a step closer. “I’m talking about all these idiots who parade by your desk every fucking day, swinging their dicks to try to get you to notice them.”
I rolled my eyes. “That is ridiculous.” I’d never seen any of my co-workers’ penises. I’d never actually seen anyone’s penis, not in person. But he definitely did not need to know that.
“No, what’s ridiculous is that they all think they’re getting this perfect woman.”
My jaw dropped. “Are you saying I’m not perfect?” How dare he! I worked hard to be flawless, and he had better recognize it.
“I’m saying it’s all a fucking façade. The hair, the makeup, the clothes, and definitely that goddamn smile. Every single time you laugh, it’s an act. I doubt you even like any of them. You just want them to like you.”
I growled in frustration. How dare he say these awful things? How dare he sneer at me for being friendly, for putting my best foot forward? How dare he mock me for wanting people to like me?
I swallowed roughly. How dare he be right? How freaking dare he see what no one else had ever seen – that my whole being was a carefully crafted lie, designed to entice and attract without ever giving anything of myself back?
He saw right through me. He had from the beginning, since the moment he told me to wipe the smile from my face. He knew me in an instant. Or at least, he knew that this perfect girl I presented to the world wasn’t really me. He probably even knew that I wasn’t sure who the real me was.
And that was unacceptable.
He was staring at me now, as though daring me to say something, to prove him wrong. But I remained silent. How could I argue with him when he was right?
“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head like he was disgusted. “Stop treating my office like your own personal dating site.”
That, at least, I could refute. “I have never dated any of my co-workers. Not once, Julian.”
He stepped closer, his eyes roaming my face as though trying to gauge the truth. They lingered on my mouth for a moment, and I honestly wasn’t sure if he was about to kiss me or strangle me.
My hopes were on kiss, but my money was on strangle.
“Fine,” he growled. Then his eyes grew darker. “Keep it that way.”
I inhaled, and time seemed to slow for a second as I realized I hadn’t been imagining it earlier – he was jealous. A little thrill ran through me, a teeny tiny wave of triumph. Jealousy was something. A petty, ugly something. But it was something. Julian couldn’t be completely apathetic, not if he didn’t want me dating Graham.
But it was obvious, based on his behavior toward me, that he also didn’t want to date me himself. And that was once again un-freaking-acceptable. He couldn’t keep me from another guy, a nice guy who would treat me right! Not when he didn’t want to step up and fill the position himself. Who the heck did he think he was?
“I will do whatever I want,” I told him, throwing my shoulders back and giving him a defiant look. “There’s no policy against fraternization here. So there’s no reason I can’t date Graham. Is there?”
Now it was my turn to hold his gaze, silently daring him to argue with me. Daring him to say something, anything.
But he didn’t. His chest rose and fell, and his jaw clenched as though he was struggling. But ultimately, he turned on his heel without another word, marching back into his office and slamming the door.
I stood there for a long moment, debating. I could go after him, go in there and make him speak to me, make him admit to his feelings. But something told me he wasn’t going to. Not without a push.
So I sat at my desk again, picking up my phone and shooting off a text. He needed a push? Well, he’d get one.
On Tuesday, I managed to get out of work a little earlier than usual, since Julian had a meeting offsite. Rather than sit at home and overanalyze why he specifically asked me not to attend said meeting, I decided to take Graham up on his offer of a second date.
We went out the night before, and I thought it had gone well. He took me out for a movie and a burger, and I even let him kiss me good night. It wasn’t exactly fireworks and shooting stars, but it was nice. He was nice. He was respectful and kind, and he didn’t seem to notice anything was off with me, since I made sure to keep the focus on him.
For some reason, I couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.
Tonight was more of the same. We met at a Mexican restaurant in Levittown, and the food was okay. Not awful, per se. But I’d had authentic enchiladas more times than I could count, so I was kind of picky about it. Graham talked a lot about himself, and I encouraged it, lost in my own thoughts about Julian, work, whether or not phthalates were truly necessary to produce a quality eyeshadow, work, the long drive home, and Julian.
We were leaving the restaurant when he asked me to go out again.
“I don’t live too far from you, you know. It’s just a few minutes over the causeway from Amityville to South Bay.” He smiled as I stopped in front of my car. “I could come pick you up.”
I smiled, but inside, I wasn’t so sure. The house I shared with Larkin was a mess. I didn’t want him to see that. I didn’t want anyone to see it, actually. I cringed every time I ran into one of our neighbors, because I just knew they were silently – and in the case of Phillip Lowenthal, not so silently – judging us. Their eyes would linger on the overgrown lawn and sagging front porch, and I would die a little inside. But yard work and I did not play well together, because getting dirty was not something I was really ever okay with. And it was really hard for Larkin to get out there and do it, too.
It was hard for her to do much of anything, now that her husband was gone.
But thinking of Larkin and Daniel did give me an idea for something that would keep this Graham thing going with a minimum amount of effort – and more importantly, something that would help Larkin out of the funk she’d been in for much too long.
“Actually,” I replied, “another date sounds great.”
Graham smiled. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “Absolutely. But how would you feel about a double date this Friday?”
Graham ran a hand through his dark hair. “That could be cool. What did you have in mind? I could see if maybe my sister is free.”
I smiled, but inside I panicked. I so did not want to meet Graham’s sister. Meeting the family was a huge step, and honestly, I wasn’t prepared to go there with him right now, and probably not ever. If this experiment had taught me anything, it was that Graham and I were just not meant to be. He was a great guy, but there was no chemistry, no spark, there.
Not like there was with a certain boss of mine. A boss who seemed completely unaffected by my continued relationship with the guy he all but forbade me to date. He hadn’t said anything to me all day, in fact, other than work-related things. And even then, he kept it to email whenever he possibly could. He was still his usual growly self, but nothing out of the ordinary.
So this whole thing had been for naught. I was wasting Graham’s time, wasting my own time, and not even accomplishing the one thing I’d been hoping to: getting a reaction out of Julian.
“It might have to be kinda late, though, since she lives in Manhattan. But I can call her,” Graham said, and I had to lay a hand on his arm to stop him reaching into his pocket for his phone.
“Actually, my roommate is single.” I widened my smile, trying not to flinch at the lie. But ‘single’ sounded better than ‘my roommate is a shut-in who can’t move on from her husband’s unexpected death,’ so that’s what I went with.
He agreed easily, as I suspected he would. We worked out the rest of the details quickly after that, and I got another uneventful goodbye kiss. Then I drove myself home.
I watched the causeway lights twinkle as I crossed the bay, their reflections rippling in the water. The sight soothed my exhausted mind. Sure, I was still tired, and frustrated, and unsure of basically everything in my life at the moment. But as long as the ocean existed, and I c
ould be near it, then I was okay.
As I sang along with Demi Lovato on the radio, I debated how to broach the subject of a double date with Larkin. I’d been trying to get her to agree to start dating again – God, even to leave the house again – for months. But she wouldn’t budge. If anything, she doubled down, burrowing deeper under the covers to avoid everything and everyone. And it just broke my heart to see her so defeated. Larkin had always had a fiery personality, but now she was like a shadow of her former self.
I yawned as I turned onto our street. I’d talk to her after I got ready for bed. Maybe we could even have a pajama party and catch up on our shows. I was four episodes behind on Keeping Up with the Kardashians, which was just not okay.
When I finally got home, I dragged myself inside, yawning again. My mind was working overtime as I took my shoes off, thinking about all the things I had to do tomorrow. I had about fifty emails to respond to, and I needed to update Julian’s calendar for December. And it would be an early morning again, since Julian had a conference call with the Lyon office at seven. He would need me to jump in, since I spoke French and he didn’t. Never mind that it was high school French, better suited for asking where the discotheque is than for negotiating the construction of a new European production plant. And never mind, too, that our colleagues overseas spoke perfect English. He insisted that I dial in for every call.
As I took my makeup off and washed away the long day in the shower, I wondered whether he’d give me the cold shoulder again tomorrow. I wasn’t sure how long I could take his punishment – because there was no doubt that’s what it was. He knew me too well already. It was a sure bet that he knew the worst thing he could possibly do is not pay attention to me.
It wasn’t until I was snuggled deep under the covers and nearly asleep that I remembered the double date and my plan to talk to Larkin. I'd been so tired by the time I got home that it had completely slipped my mind. I sighed, glancing at the alarm clock on my nightstand. I had to be at work in less than eight hours. And I knew I would need at least an hour to get ready in the morning, since it took time to look so amazing every day. And I was really comfy right now. I let out another lusty yawn. Definitely too comfy to get up.