by Trisha Wolfe
Maybe that’s how it is at every law firm ran by an all-male partnership. Just because the world claims times have changed, doesn’t mean they have.
And right on cue, as if he senses my thoughts drifting to him, I meet his arctic blue eyes across the crowd. Chase’s gaze locks on to me in a predatory fashion. Heat simmers beneath my skin as he openly assesses me. Unnerved, I fight my own will to look away. As I always do.
But not tonight. His current is too strong—the rising music too powerful, heightening my emotions, liquefying my nerves until I feel trapped. Unable to escape his pull.
I’m no better than the ladder climbers sleeping their way to the top. Frankly, I’m worse. And pathetically so. At least they have the courage to act on their fantasies, rather than sneaking glimpses at one of their bosses for…what? So I can swoon over him in the privacy of my own, twisted mind?
That thought is a splash of cold reality, and I lower my eyes to the floor, escaping as quickly as possible. I keep my gaze down as I weave my way through the gyrating bodies, the ground shifting annoyingly with the flashing dots of lights. And as if I willed it to happen, that cold splash finds me.
I stumble into someone and liquid soaks the front of my dress. The scent of alcohol stings my nose. But I’m too concerned about the person I ran into to care. “I’m so sorry.” I try to pick up his cup and we knock heads.
“It’s fine,” he says, sloppily waving a hand before he palms his forehead. “Leave it. That’s what the cleanup crew is for, right?” His glassy eyes squint as a full smile spreads his lips.
“Are you sure? Let me buy you another.” The sour-smelling drink mats my dress to my skin, cold and uncomfortable. At least the room is too busy, too loud, for anyone to notice. “What are you drinking?”
“You want to buy me a drink?” His gaze drags over my body as he leans against the bar top.
I recognize him then. Ben from accounting. I’m always sending his spreadsheets back to be corrected.
I give him a tight smile. “You know what? How about I just put some money on your tab.” I look around, seeking the bartender lady, desperate to leave. I go to reach into my purse and notice it missing. Shit.
Glancing down, I spot it next to his cup. Relieved, I bend over and stuff my phone into the front flap, and that’s when I feel him. Pressing up against my backside. I freeze. A pinch of revulsion twists my stomach as deep chuckles carry above the music.
I snap upright and try to turn, but Ben’s hands find my thighs, keeping my body sealed against his. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink, Alexis,” he says, trying his best to move my totally immobile body to the beat. “I know you’re dying to have a good time, right?”
The laughing, drunk faces of the men in accounting crowd closer. My breathing goes ragged as I try to smile through my distress. “Thanks,” I say, wriggling free of his hold. “But I’m good.”
Ben groans and reaches for my wrist. “Why are you always like this? Just loosen up for once. God, it’s a party.” He attempts to pull me closer, and real panic flares inside my chest.
I don’t like being touched by this guy. At all. The room is suddenly stifling. My equilibrium off balance. I’m so out of my element…
“I think Miss Wilde is trying to leave.”
The deep timber of his voice booms above the commotion.
My wrist is released, and Ben drunkenly wavers beside me. “I was only trying to show her a good time, Mister Larkin. Figured she could use—”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Chase effectively silences Ben’s stammering. Straightening his back, owning his towering height of over six feet, Chase smooths a hand down the front of his black suit, which molds perfectly to his toned body. Those ice-blue eyes meet mine before he turns his shrewd gaze on Ben. “But I think you misread the situation. Miss Wilde isn’t interested. You should pay your tab and go.”
My face flames with heat. God, but I didn’t want this attention—I didn’t ask for it. Especially from him—Chase Larkin—the Lark in Lark and Gannet. My shameful fantasy that sets all women back fifty years.
I just wanted to escape this party and pretend I never overheard Chelsea and Sophie in the bathroom. Try to salvage some shred of my dignity.
“I’m fine – it’s fine,” I say, shaking my head. Hoping to douse the heavy testosterone funneling around me. “I should pay and go, too. Thank you,” I mutter lamely.
I turn to flag the bartender, but Chase holds up his hand. “It’s been taken care of, Miss Wilde.”
I keep my gaze on the granite countertop for as long as possible. I pick out the silver flecks, analyzing each swirl. I do this, because as soon as I look into his eyes, this moment becomes real. And I’m terrified of what I’ll see in his penetrating gaze.
I’m not ready.
“Thank you,” I say again, and when I finally embolden myself to look up, my boss has departed into the crowd.
The air in my lungs evacuates like I’m holding it hostage. Only when I breathe again, the lingering scent of his cologne threatens to steal it away.
I’ve never spoken to him. Not personally. In conference rooms, when in meetings, I’ve heard his voice many times—that deep baritone that vibrates against my skin. I’ve passed him in hallways and handed him reports, our fingers touching just once—but this is the first time since I began at this firm that his full attention was aimed on me.
And it was intimidating.
With a weak smile meant to diffuse the tension, I turn away from Ben and the others and find a path along the back wall toward the exit. A quick escape route. Once I’m in the empty hallway, the dull thud of bass at my back, I suck down a cool, cleansing breath.
I came here tonight to prove that I’m a team player. That I could put myself out there, that I could socialize…and what did I prove? That I’m as big of a freak as everyone says.
Tucking my shame close, I head toward the main hallway. Every step away from the party, I wilt a little more, my shoulders practically dragging the ground.
“You really shouldn’t go off alone.”
I flinch at the voice. My hand goes to my chest, the sticky remnants of Ben’s drink seeping past my dress. “God. Mister Wells, you startled me.”
He’s leaning against the wall, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. A hint of a smile hikes one side of his mouth—more imposing than disarming. “That wasn’t my intention, I assure you, Miss Wilde.”
An eerie feeling presses against my nerves. I smile through the unease, taking a backward step. “It’s fine. Well, have a nice night.”
He pushes off the wall, his movements smooth and vulturine as he approaches. “You’re not planning to walk home alone, are you?”
My mouth opens and closes, words failing on my tongue. In the year I’ve been a paralegal here, the partners have never acknowledged me, let alone proven they know my name. I’m a wallflower. A wallflower that works overtime and deserves a raise, but I doubt my submission has made the bigwigs of the firm suddenly aware of my presence.
One thing about being an introvert: we pay attention. To everyone. And Price Wells is a watcher. Like me, only he does so on a much more profound level. He studies people, analyzes and dissects them. In short, he freaks me the hell out. And up until now, I’ve evaded his notice. When I put in for the open supervisor position of my department, gaining the attention of the creepy partner was not my intention.
If it is the reason, I’m tempted to hunt down my application and destroy it.
I grip my purse strap, concealing the tremble of my hand. “I’ll be fine. I don’t live far from here.” I attempt a smile, but I’m aware of how forced it comes across. The awkward twitch of my facial muscles. Wells narrows his eyes, not missing my tell.
“But it’s late,” he says, bringing out a phone from his pocket. “Let me get you a company car. I’d feel much better knowing—”
“Miss Wilde already has arranged transportation.”
Jesus. My he
art batters my chest as Chase steps from a shadowed corner. This narrow hallway isn’t big enough to accommodate their very large presence. And I’m in the center, scrambling to gain some sense of composure over this strange encounter.
“Thank you,” I say, looking between the two men, then quickly stepping away. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way home.”
“It’s a shame your talents have been overlooked, Miss Wilde,” Wells says to me, but his gaze is evaluating the other man. “Until now, that is.” His eyes are on me then, an arrogant smile splitting his face.
I stop moving.
“Her recent submission will be taken up by me,” Chase addresses the other partner, his dark tone sending a shiver along my skin.
“I’m sure it will be.” Wells grins before he shrugs off the tension. “Very well. I know my place.” His gaze drills through me. “But should you ever tire of Chase’s mundane tasks, I’m very interested, Miss Wilde. Remember that.”
He lowers his head in a curt bow, which feels completely out of place here. I can only stare after him as he makes a swift departure.
“What is happening,” I say. I don’t mean to speak the words aloud. They rush out of me as quickly as fear threads my spine, immobilizing my body.
“You’re being advanced, Miss Wilde.”
My head whips around. “This is not about a work promotion.”
Chase releases a tense breath through his nose, his piercing blue gaze directed on me. “You’re too perceptive.”
A soundless laugh escapes me in a relieved rush. “Sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, but—”
“You do that a lot,” he accuses.
With courage I don’t feel, I lift my chin. At this point, I’m too drained from the turbulence of my emotions to worry about how a named partner perceives me. “What do I do?”
The smirk twisting his mouth doesn’t match the gravity of his stare, the way his gaze holds me captive as he advances. I’m ensnared, but I have no idea what the nature of the trap is. All I comprehend is the wary feeling stealing over me the closer he gets.
I’m not ready.
“You apologize too much,” he explains. Once he’s standing before me, I’m unable to look anywhere but up into his face. A hint of stubble brushes his otherwise smooth skin. For some reason, this one detail douses the escalating fear, making him appear more human, rather than the god he’s perceived to be.
And when he smiles, revealing the dimple in his left cheek, I fixate on that feature—my toes curling over the edge of the proverbial cliff.
“That’s a bad habit we’ll have to break,” he says, a glint in his squinted gaze. “If you’re going to work with my clients, that is. And really, I don’t believe you’re as weak as you want others to believe.”
I swallow hard. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that.” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I register what he said: work with his clients. He wouldn’t say it unless he means it.
His smile slants, lighting his dark features. “You shouldn’t be. It’s a compliment.”
“Thanks,” is my feeble reply. I don’t have the brain power to deduce backhanded compliments from my very intimidating boss right now. I glance behind me, eyeing the door just feet away.
Leap or fall.
“You’re not leaving,” he says, pulling my attention to him.
“Why not?”
He steps closer, crowding my personal space and filling the small span of air between us with the heady scent of his cologne. It rushes my senses, causing my head to feel faint. “Because I don’t want you to,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You’re coming to my office to take care of that stain.”
Looking down, I inspect the wet spot. “It’s a black dress. I doubt the stain will show.”
“Alexis, it wasn’t a request.”
My head snaps up, and when my gaze connects with his, I’m effectually caught. This isn’t a game. My boss is not seducing me. Something else very visceral and without pretense is taking place. And I’m too out of my depth to control it, or even understand it.
If for no other reason than to hear him say my name again, I nod. “All right.”
He takes my arm. Not in a guiding manor, how a man might loop a woman’s elbow around his own. He clutches my bicep, his strong fingers digging into my flesh and searing my skin through the thin barrier of my dress.
This one action ignites a wildfire that sweeps through me, blazing and destructive. I’m sure this man could devastate my reality. I feel as if everything I’ve known—everything I was sure of in my life up until this point—is about to be put into question.
What’s more, against all logic, a deep, hidden part of me craves just that—to have my existence tested. To be pushed to the edge of something daring. Frightening, even. To veer off the road—just let go of the wheel—of the steadfast course.
“Aren’t you tired of controlling every aspect of your life only to feel powerless in the end?”
His question should confuse me. More so, it borders on invasive and presumes he knows anything at all about me—and it should be distasteful. Only it’s not. With close enough inspection, anyone can see the hunch of my shoulders. The way my pale skin reflects the fatigue I endure every day trying to maintain an ounce of control.
“You’re scaring me.” It’s a brutally honest response. I don’t understand what’s happening or why. I can’t rationalize anything that’s taken place after I left the party.
His hand grips me tighter as he steers me toward his office. “You have no reason to be frightened. Not yet, Alexis.”
The floor beneath my feet feels unstable. The building—dark and empty at night—is a different world than the one I reside in during the day. It’s his world, and I’ve somehow been swept up into it, entirely unaware.
Only, I know Chase Larkin doesn’t do anything by mistake or on a whim.
I allow him to lead me into his immaculate office. He shuts the door behind us, finally releasing my arm. My skin is cool from the sudden absence of his warmth. I turn toward him. “Is this about my submission? Did I do something wrong?”
My voice is small and questioning, like a child trying to gauge a parent’s punishment. With anyone else, I would loathe this about myself. But as I stand in his presence, this beautiful man who has never acknowledged me before tonight, I’m too dazed to resent myself.
He flips the lock. The sound of the bolt lodging into place echoes through the room, effectively sealing us inside. He approaches me then, his movements purposeful and thrumming with power. “Take off your dress.”
A rush of adrenaline spikes my blood. My blinks come rapidly as I attempt to clear my vision, like it will help me process the situation. “I’m sorry…what—?”
“Stop being sorry,” he says, aggressively cutting me off as he stalks forward. “You heard me. Your dress is stained, ruined. I don’t wish to see it on you any longer.”
I can’t grasp a response fast enough.
“You know why you’re here, Alexis,” he continues. “I’m not one of those boys from accounting. I’m nothing comparable to the paralegals or interns trying to fuck you at a raunchy company party, like your friends desire.” He cocks his head, indicating the party outside his office.
“They’re not my friends,” I snap. Though I’m not sure why that detail is important—not when my boss is ordering me to undress in his office.
In a fluid turn, he pivots, coming up behind me. So close, I can taste his scent on my tongue. I press my lips together and force myself to take short, measured breaths. How far will this go? How far will I let this go?
The charged air between us hums against my skin. My purse drops to the floor. And when he strokes a finger along my shoulder, a current ripples in its wake. I shiver at the feel of his hand. My eyes close, my body responding to him of its own accord.
“I don’t like this,” I say, but my voice holds no conviction.
“You don’t know w
hat you like.” His hand flattens against my back, forcing my body to arc. “I’m not any more pleased than you are about being forced into this situation. But as I’ve accepted the outcome, you have two choices: take off your dress, or find another place of employment.”
Icy pinpricks needle my skin. I whirl around, moving away from his touch. “Are you…threatening me?”
Unmoved by my accusation, he stands composed before me. Almost bored. “I don’t make threats. I don’t have to. Ironically, the threat was already made earlier. I’m offering my protection. But be assured, it comes at a price.”
I lick my lips, my mouth dry. “Protection from what?”
“Those who mean to corrupt you.”
My brow furrows. “This is the most fucked up thing that has ever happened to me.” And that’s saying a lot, considering the past three years of my life. I take off toward the door. “I’ll put my resignation in on Monday.”
“Stop.” His low command resonates through the room, pulling my body to a halt.
Though I wait to hear him, I don’t turn around, keeping my focus on the door.
“I’ve watched you struggle,” he says, his voice growing closer. “You think you’re unseen, moving through this firm invisible, but I’ve seen you fight and wither, come up for air only to be submerged again. And just as I’ve noticed you, believe me, others have been paying attention, too. I have to admit, it was fascinating. You hide well, but I see you.”
I swallow the bile coating my throat. My pain is so obvious that someone like him has noticed. That realization makes my stomach pitch. God, I’m so tired. Tired of trying to figure out how to fix everything. “Is this some kind of game?”
I can sense his close proximity. The hairs on my skin stand at attention, my body electrified by his nearness. The prospect of him touching me again.
And when he does, my teeth sink into my lip as he takes ahold of my waist, his hands an anchor keeping me tethered as I’m guided toward him.