“Still, it won’t happen again.” I sag in the chair, unable to mask my relief. I honestly thought he was going to tell me to pack up my office. Then I’d be a famous hockey player’s unemployed fiancée rather than a modest financial contributor to our partnership.
“Sounds good.”
Mr. Stroker shuffles account files around on his desk. I recognize the one on top as one I prepared, because it’s in a violet-colored folder. Alex bought them for me. He thinks they’re cute.
“I’ve reviewed your file for the Darcy account. I think you’ve made some very wise choices in terms of the funds you’ve selected. The returns have been high in the past eighteen months, and you’ve balanced their portfolio well.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” This isn’t at all what I thought I was coming here for. His praise is unexpected. He’s a numbers guy, like so many of us in this department. It’s always about the bottom line: whether or not we’re making money for our clients or saving their asses from potential bankruptcy.
Mitch Darcy plays defense for Chicago. I met him through Alex. One night after the game his wife was there, and we started talking. She asked what I did for a living, so I told her. She seemed surprised that I worked a job other than servicing Alex’s amazing dick.
Two weeks later, Mrs. Darcy made an appointment and specifically asked for me. Mr. Stroker took a risk by letting me draw up a proposal for the account. Of course he has to review it before anything can be implemented, but it’s an opportunity I wouldn’t have without all my connections. Those sometimes make me unpopular at work.
“This is a big deal, Violet.” Mr. Stroker says, tapping his pen against the folder.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re aware that Darcy renewed his contract for five more years at four million a year.”
“Yes, sir. He also has endorsements with Power Juice and Sports Mind totaling another two million annually for the next three years.”
“Do you think you’ll be ready to present this to the Darcys next week?”
I sit up straighter. “You want me to present?”
“His wife is rather insistent it be you.”
“But I’ve never presented to a client this big before.”
“You’ve been managing Miller’s account for the past year without an issue,” he argues.
Stroker is referring to my stepbrother, Buck, whose real name is Miller. Everyone has recently started calling him by his given name, but it’s an adjustment for me. I’m not quite there yet.
Usually the accounts I handle are half a million or less. The Darcys’ portfolio is far more significant. Way bigger than anything I’ve touched, apart from Buck’s accounts, and I’ve always had Mr. Stroker look at those before I make any kind of change. I don’t want to be responsible for screwing up Buck’s fortune.
“You’ve got a handle on it. Why don’t you call them and set up a meeting for next week. I’m open most mornings.”
“Okay, great. I’ll consult their game schedule and see what works best.”
“Perfect. You arrange it, check the notes I’ve made on the PowerPoint, and at the end of the week—say, Friday afternoon—I’ll set aside an hour and you can do a dry run for me so you feel prepared. How does that sound?”
“That sounds amazing, Mr. Stroker.”
“It’s just William, Violet. You can drop the formality now.”
He’s told me this before, but I find his last name entertaining. “Of course. Right, William.”
He gives Randy Balls, another one of Alex’s teammates, a run for his money with the dirty names.
“Great. Three o’clock Friday afternoon is open for me. Book the conference room with Edna on your way out.” He passes over the folder and picks up the phone, which means I’m dismissed.
I thank him and stop to set things up with his assistant on the way back to my cubicle.
Charlene is sitting at her desk, chewing her nails and pretending to do some kind of research. When she sees me she grabs my arm and yanks me into her cubicle. “Why aren’t you crying? Didn’t you get fired?”
“No. Stroker didn’t can my ass.”
Charlene sighs with relief. “I’m so sorry. He rarely comes down this way.” It’s true. Junior accountants usually only see the boss-man in the conference room on meeting Monday, which was this morning. “Let’s never take pictures like that again while we’re at work.”
“Agreed. We should have waited until I got home. Then we could’ve posed the beaver on the bed so it looks like he’s taking me from behind, or holding my boobs.”
“Such good ideas. So what did Stroker say?”
“I’m presenting to Mitch Darcy and his wife next week.”
“You’re what?” she practically screeches this, so anyone within earshot, which is most of the office, peeks their head over the edge of their cube wall.
“It’s okay, everyone. I told Charlene I’m thinking about going vegan.”
Jimmy seems to have returned from his coffee break. He looks suspicious, and rightfully so—I’m the first one to order a Philly cheesesteak when he gets takeout—but he’s on the phone, so he goes back to his call. The rest of the office is used to our ridiculousness, so they resume whatever they were doing, too.
I lower my voice to a whisper. “I get to present.”
“That’s a big account,” Charlene whispers back.
“I know.”
“That’s amazing.”
I know she means it, but I recognize the wistful look in her eyes. We’re close, but we’re still competing with each other, and with Jimmy and Dean, for a senior accountant position when it comes open. Being allowed to present to one of the bigger clients gives me an advantage over everyone else.
The people who don’t like me at the office are really going to hate me now.
Forever Pucked Deleted Scene
The Perfect Place for Buddy
“Maybe we should just elope.” I’m not sure if it sounds like I’m kidding or not.
Violet lifts her head, her eyes wide. “You’re kidding, right?”
I tuck strands of wet hair behind her ear and trace the line of her jaw. “I don’t have to be.”
“I don’t have a dress.”
I follow the contour of her bottom lip with my thumb. Jesus, I love this woman. “We can buy you one.”
“You’re serious?”
“As serious as you are about keeping me out of your Area 51.”
Violet sits up. She’s wearing a hotel robe. It gapes in the front and most of her right boob falls out. “I’m only mostly serious about that.”
“What? You mean you’d let me in there?” I sit up, too, and stick my hand in the gap in her robe, palming a breast, ready to make all of my fantasies come true.
“Hold on there, trigger.” Violet puts a hand on my face and pushes me back down. “I don’t mean with the Super MC. He’s huge. And there’s special lube and stuff for that, which we don’t have. I mean maybe we can use some more fingers, or, like, a toy—eventually.”
“That’d be a great place to put Buddy…” That’s exactly where I’d like to see that fucking dildo go. I would derive so much satisfaction, in so many ways, from watching that stupid beaver face disappear inside her ass.
“Wow. You’re totally serious about that. I honestly don’t understand the fascination with trying to get something that big into a hole that small.” She pokes my hard-on.
“That is the fascination, Violet.”
“You know, I’ve done some reading recently about this.”
“Oh, really?” I lean against the headboard. “And what did you discover?”
“You’re the one with the prostate gland, not me. So if anyone should be putting things where the sun don’t shine, it should me giving you a dose of Buddy, not the other way around.” She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks a brow.
“Uh, yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever, Violet.”
She shrugs. “That’s fine. But if you
won’t let me try it on you, then you don’t get to try it on me.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay? You’re not going to argue over this?”
“Baby, c’mere.” I pat my lap.
Violet doesn’t straddle me, but she sits on my hard-on, so that’s okay. I tilt her chin up. “Do you remember what I said to you the first night we met?”
“Am I looking at her beaver?”
I smile. “Later. When we were in my suite, and we ended up in the bedroom.”
“It isn’t that big—which is lie, because it really is that big.” She shifts so her ass rubs against my still-growing dick.
“No. I mean just before that.”
She bites her lip and thinks for a few seconds, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. “Oh!” Her smile is soft, shy almost. “That we didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to. But you had to know at that point I was going to give it up for you.”
“Well, I hoped, but it was never an expectation. I mean, fuck—I really wanted to get you naked and get all up in there, but I would’ve been perfectly fine with some slip ‘n’ slide or the blow job. The sex was—” I close my eyes, remembering exactly how being inside Violet for the first time felt. So tight, so hot, so… “—much more than I probably deserved at the time.”
“I was pretty nervous.”
“I was, too. I’m not really a one-night-stand guy.”
Her smile is warm. “You got attached to my beaver rather quickly.”
“Mmm.” I sweep her hair over her shoulders and push the robe down with it. “And the rest of you.”
I slip an around her waist and pull her closer so I can kiss her. “What I’m trying to say, Violet, amidst all these distractions, is that I will only take from you what you offer me willingly, and only if it’s going to make you feel good. And that goes for everything.”
“I love you. But all your sweet-talking still isn’t going to get the Super MC Area 51 access.”
About The Author
Helena Hunting
NYT and USA Today bestselling author of PUCKED, Helena Hunting lives on the outskirts of Toronto with her incredibly tolerant family and two moderately intolerant cats. She's writes contemporary romance ranging from new adult angst to romantic sports comedy.
Other Titles By
Helena Hunting
PUCKED SERIES
Pucked (Pucked #1)
Pucked Up (Pucked #2)
Pucked Over (Pucked #3)
Forever Pucked (Pucked #4)
THE CLIPPED WINGS SERIES
Cupcakes and Ink
Clipped Wings
Between the Cracks
Inked Armor
Cracks in the Armor
STANDALONE NOVELS
The Librarian Principle
AREA 51 Page 10