Loving Ruby: The Riverstone Series Book 2 - Standalone

by Roya Carmen

  “I’m sorry, sir. I just… my brain’s not functioning right today. I went out to a bar with some friends last night, and I’m exhausted.”

  She’s exhausted. Of course she was out all night. She’s young and so full of life, the polar opposite of me. And I hate that. In a flash, anger consumes me. I’m paying her to do a job, and she’s ill-equipped to do it today. I want to know who she was with. Did she spent the night getting wasted and fucking some guy she hardly knows? Or was she with a boyfriend? I can’t seem to manage the controlling, possessive thoughts consuming me. I know it makes no sense. I have absolutely no claim on her, with the small exception of expecting her to be able to do her work in the hours she is in my employ. I cling to that.

  “Well, Miss Riverstone” – I turn to her – “I’m sorry to hear that. And I must also say I’m disappointed.”

  She sits to attention but doesn’t utter a single word.

  “When you are in my home, in my employ, I expect you to be at your best. I expect you to be able to perform your duties as requested. I don’t want you moping around with a hangover.”

  She’s wide-eyed and speechless. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I was just out with my—”

  “I don’t care if you were out with your boyfriend, painting the town red,” I scoff. “I don’t care. I just need you to be able to do your job the next day.”

  “I wasn’t out with my boyfriend,” she clarifies. “My friend Sonia and I just went out to blow off some steam.”

  Her words leave me confused. Does she have a damn boyfriend or not? Despite myself, I’m still livid. “Furthermore, if you think you can’t handle this job, please let me know. You’re easily replaceable.”

  I don’t know what possesses me to utter those last words, and I want to unsay them as soon as they escape my lips. The truth is… she isn’t replaceable. I look at her just long enough to catch her expression. Her eyes glisten, and her bottom lip quivers. Her sorrowful eyes have never been so beautiful to me. I feel like such an asshole. In fact, I know I’m being a complete bastard, but for the life of me, I can’t find the words to backtrack.

  “Uh, I’ll leave you to your work now, Miss Riverstone. Perhaps a nice espresso might pick you up a little. And if you need some ibuprofen, there’s some in the powder room down the hall.” And with those words, I leave her on the verge of tears.

  When I reach my desk, I fall into my chair. My body feels so heavy.

  I bury my face in my hands, not believing how I’ve just behaved; I was a monster. “What the hell is wrong me?”

  “What the hell is wrong with me?” Miko parrots.

  I rub my head, wishing I could just make this day disappear. I conclude that it’s best to stay away from Ruby Riverstone. She obviously brings out the worst in me.

  I can’t focus. I can’t write. I know the rest of the day will be wasted. I shouldn’t have gone to her, and I can’t get rid of this horrible feeling until I apologize to her. She didn’t deserve that. I don’t own her. She isn’t mine to control. What she does on her own time is none of my business. I know all this, yet I still can’t control the jealousy and anger in me.

  The more I think about it, the clearer it becomes. I’m not jealous of a may-or-may-not-exist boyfriend or a sexual encounter she may have had. I’m jealous of her, of her lust for life, of her freedom. Ever since Olivia’s passing, I’ve had no freedom, no desire to fully live life. I’ve been shackled in this house, and I cannot go anywhere. Yes, I have the legs and the resources to go anywhere I want to – Australia, India, Russia… anywhere in the world – but unfortunately, my mind won’t even let me go out my front door.

  Ruby

  Fuck, I can’t keep working here. I can’t. The man is driving me utterly insane. I earmark my page and snap shut the binder. I can’t read anymore. I’m too angry. How dare he? Where does he get off?

  And when did I start calling him sir? I have no clue. But something tells me he likes it.

  He’s my boss, but he has no right to dictate what I do or don’t do on my own time. I’m hardly dysfunctional. I don’t even have a headache – I completely faked the whole thing.

  The truth is I was fucking turned on. I was reading his book, and damn, he’s good. I adore his books. I haven’t read all of them, but they’re definitely all on my list. But these emotions are too intense – the arousal, the angst, the want.

  Part of me truly hates him. But when he asked me what my thoughts were, I desperately wanted him to flip me over my desk and fuck me senseless. So I didn’t know exactly how to answer. How could I tell that beautiful man standing inches from me that his words fill me with a lust and desire I’ve never experienced before, that all the filthy things his hero does, I want him to do them to me.

  Seriously, it’s ten o’clock in the morning, and I’m already horny as hell. Some might say this is the best gig in the world. Heck, I read porn for a living. But it’s not. It’s frustrating as hell. I need to find another job and quick.

  I have a nice lunch with Millie – yummy chicken salad sandwiches today. I’m going to miss Millie’s lunches when I no longer work here.

  Then I manage to make it through the rest of day without seeing Mr. Hyde again. I debate searching Workopolis, but it’s just not right to do that at work. And I’m not sure if my computer is being monitored. I wouldn’t put it past the creepy control freak.

  Still, I log on to Facebook and even post a cute Snoopy GIF on my wall. I don’t care if I’m on the clock. I don’t give a rat’s rear. I need a time-out. I perk up when I see a new friend request. I don’t get them as often as I would like. Who could it be? High school friend? A college roommate? An old boyfriend?

  My heart stops beating for a good five seconds when I see the image of a black-and-white-suited man with the name “August Hyde” right next to it. Is he testing me? How does he know I’m on Facebook? Is he watching me? Does he have a camera somewhere in my office?

  I jerk up and turn my head around, looking everywhere in my office. Suddenly, every knickknack on the bookcases becomes suspect. The green vase I’ve admired so many times? That owl statue? The framed bird photographs? I slowly scan the room and all the photos of birds staring back at me. I’ve never paid much attention to them before. They’re striking and kind of blend effortlessly into the contemporary Zen atmosphere of my office, but now they just seem creepy. I stand and start feverishly inspecting every single item in my office: the frames and vases, sculptures, books. I take the bird pictures off the wall and inspect each one warily. I’m cautious to set them back carefully. I inspect everything on my desk. I’m not sure what I’m looking for – a camera or audio bug of some sort.

  But there’s nothing suspicious anywhere. As I sink back down in my chair, I realize those Scandal marathon binges might be making me paranoid. Damn you, Netflix.

  I stare at my screen. The blue tab with the word Confirm stares back at me. I cannot confirm now – he’ll know I’m on Facebook and not working. Maybe that’s his plan. Maybe he’s looking for just cause to fire me. He’s not firing me. I’m going to fight that controlling, bordering-on-sexual-harassment weirdo if it’s the last thing I do.

  I log off Facebook, and I open my Word software. It’s time to take notes in the event of a possible legal case. No one fires me. I’ll quit first.

  HR Situation #1

  Boss makes inappropriate comments in regards to dress of employee. He tells her he likes her in a skirt and tall heels. He also tells her he likes her hair down. Employee wears said skirts, heels, and her hair down because she wants to please boss.

  HR Situation #2

  Boss requests that employee read highly sexual content. Disrupts her as she does so. And then puts her on the spot when he asks for direct feedback. He lashes out when she doesn’t oblige.

  There. Done.

  I name the file and return to August’s latest manuscript. Every fibre in my body wants to read it, but I know it will have to wait. Just one hour until I can finally get out of her
e. One thing I’m sure of – I’m taking that binder home for the weekend.

  I leave at five o’clock on the dot, not even swinging by his office for a quick good-bye like I usually do. I don’t even say bye to Millie. I just dash out of there as fast as I can. Despite its unbelievable beauty, I’m tired of this big old house.

  Aiden’s dog, Hershey, greets me as soon as I get home. Trevor is colouring at the kitchen table, and Amber’s cleaning up – that’s all she ever seems to do.

  “Can I help?” I ask. “Just because I have a job now doesn’t mean I can’t still help out.”

  She smiles. “No offense, but you look exhausted. How was it with Birdman today? Did you actually speak to him?”

  Amber’s taken to calling Mr. Hyde “Birdman” ever since I told her all about Miko.

  “Barely.” I frown. “Such an intolerable man.” I say the words out loud, yet as I utter them, all I can think about is dashing to my room, accepting his friend request, and reading his deliciously filthy words. “Anyway, you’re right. I’m beat. I’m going to head to my room for a bit.”

  As soon as I step into my room, I grab my tablet and lunge onto my bed. The friend request is still there when I fire up my Facebook. My heart beats a little faster when I click Confirm. I’m at home. On my own time. He cannot accuse me of fooling around on Facebook on the job.

  I browse my feed. Sonia’s posted an album of photos from last night. She better not have tagged me. She hasn’t thankfully – she knows better. But there’s a photo of Colin and me, and we both look pretty nice. I click Like, and I’m ready to move down my feed when a message pops up. I expect it to be Sonia, and my heart leaps when I see it’s from August.

  I’m sorry. :( I’ve misbehaved. What you do on your own time is your business. My apologies

  I don’t know why exactly, but his message makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I reply instantly.

  It’s okay. Thank you.

  There’s a finality to my message. I don’t expect him to reply, but I want him to. I’m not ready to let him go. But what do I expect? A cute sticker? I decide to send him another message.

  I’m reading book 5 this weekend. I’ve brought it along. I’ll have my notes and a full report on Monday.

  Talking about business – nothing inappropriate going on here. But when another message from him pops up, I can’t help but bite my lip a little.

  I hope you enjoy it. ;)

  A wink. He sent me a wink. It’s not much, but a wink tells me he’s feeling playful. And I want to play. I know how filthy he can be – I’ve read his books. I wonder if he likes to play too. I wonder if he plays often. And if so, with whom? I don’t know what else to write.

  I’m at the scene in the shower

  It’s just a few innocent words, but there’s such a charge beneath them. It’s an incredibly hot scene where the hero fully dominates the heroine. He hurts her and pleasures her simultaneously. Just the thought of it arouses me.

  There is no reply. Oh no… I should have never mentioned it. I should have just ended the conversation with a cute Snoopy sticker like I always do. This is my boss after all. What the fuck was I thinking?

  And then I see it… three little dots bopping along. My heart lifts. They disappear. They appear again. My gaze is glued to them, my heart beating and anticipating. Every time they disappear, my heart stops for a beat. Curiosity consumes me. I cannot stand it. Damn you, little dots. Stop playing with me.

  His message finally pops up.

  That scene was a delight indeed. It was one of my favourite ones to write. It’s not just about the sex, despite appearances. It is about the power play between them. Although she knows she should hate him, she finally admits to herself that she craves him, and she finally stops challenging him and lets him have her. She gives herself fully to him. And when he finally makes her his in such a filthy way, she loves every single second of it because it is exactly what she expected of him all along.

  Fuck. My pussy is hot and wet, but my fingers are completely frozen. I have no clue how to respond. I want to reply with a witty remark, but I can’t seem to think straight. I close my eyes, digging deep. What do I want to say? What do I really think of his words? I barrel through the foggy arousal, struggling to come to a conclusion. I finally type, my fingers trembling.

  Yes… when the cluster of buried emotions between two people is cracked wide open… and walls and shackles are shattered… that’s beautiful indeed.

  Another long beat. I’m not even sure if what I wrote makes any sense at all. The little dots appear again, and I wait eagerly. Ginger hops up on my bed and stares at the screen with wide eyes, almost as if she knows we’re awaiting something important.

  “What’s taking him so long, Ginger?”

  She tilts her head. Dunno, she seems to say. I pet her silky fur, and she closes her eyes, thrilled to be getting some attention. My hand stills when I see his message pop up.

  Exactly. You understand perfectly. You must be a romantic. ;)

  Wow. Another wink. Mr. Hyde wants to play…

  “Sorry, Ginger. I’ve got some flirting to do.”

  I am… a romantic in its purest form. Too many romance novels perhaps.

  There is no such thing as too many romance novels. :)

  I agree… but my expectations are impossibly high now. I expect a prince.

  As you should. You deserve a prince

  I bite my lip, wanting to type something naughty. But I can’t seem to. He’s my boss after all. I find myself at a loss for words.

  I hear Amber’s kitchen bell clang. Damn. Damn you, Amber, and your delicious dinners served ridiculously way too early. I curse her silently and slouch as I type.

  I’m very sorry. My sister has just made a nice supper, and I’m afraid it’s ready. It’s been a pleasure chatting, Mr. Hyde.

  No worries, Miss Riverstone. You enjoy your dinner, and I will see you on Monday.

  Bye. :)

  I reply, not wanting to say good-bye.

  I bound downstairs, giddy as a junior-high girl with a silly crush. I know I’m digging my own grave. A crush on the boss? This can only lead to heartbreak. But yet, I don’t want to let go.

  All weekend long, as I read his filthy prose, I picture his beautiful face, his hands, and his lips on me. As I fantasize about him doing unspeakable things to me, I know this isn’t just a schoolgirl crush. It’s a full-on grown-up-woman obsession.

  There is no other way to say it – I’m fucked.

  No, I’m afraid that’s not quite accurate…

  I’m royally fucked.

  August

  I’m not sure what came over me. It wasn’t her striking beauty or the arousal I felt when I caught her reading my manuscript. It wasn’t even the sight of her in that tight skirt and those sexy high heels.

  I went too far – I knew it. I desperately wanted to apologize, but I’ve never been very good at apologies. I’ve never been great at facing people and admitting wrongdoing. I considered writing her an email, but it seemed too formal, brought too much attention to the matter. The truth is I was embarrassed by my behaviour, and I didn’t want to bring further attention to it.

  A quick Facebook message apology seemed appropriate. I told myself that was the reason I was doing this, but I knew better. I knew that I wanted an excuse to get closer to her outside of work. To date, I’d stayed away from her social media and Web site. Yet I couldn’t help looking at all the images on her profile and wanting more. When she accepted my request, she welcomed me into her circle. I wanted to explore her world. I wanted to see the Ruby she is when not under my employ.

  Although I knew seeing her in the world I can’t be in was an ill-advised idea. I knew I would be filled with envy. For that reason, I didn’t explore further. I simply sent the message I’d initially intended to send.

  When she answered, my heart was filled with a joy I hadn’t expected – it really caught me by surprise. The thought of her reading my manuscript aroused me, a
nd the idea of her interacting with me in the moment made me giddy. She was mine again. For how long, I didn’t know. I wondered where she was. Was she on her mobile? On her way to town? Was she sitting quietly in her living room?

  Our conversation stirred me. Her few words lit a fire in me. I wanted more. When she told me she had to go, my heart sank. I was a starved man presented with a single morsel of food.

  What is an obsessed man consumed with lust to do?

  Filled with a certain amount of shame, I go into full-on stalker mode and check out her online portfolio again. As soon as her site welcomes me, I explore further and find her illustrations, which I’d never looked at before. I’m awestruck. I never realized she was such an accomplished artist – such wonderfully crafted detail in her striking illustrations, such raw talent. I feel a pang in my stomach. I shouldn’t be looking at Ruby’s work. It feels like a betrayal to Olivia.

  Despite myself, I can’t tear my gaze away from those colourful images that are so innocent and filled with whimsy. I understand they’re part of a children’s book. I’m struck by their purity. The Ruby I know has a certain innocence about her, but she also has a naughty side I can’t seem to ignore despite all my efforts. That side brings out the man in me, and I find the contrasts in her intoxicating. I’ve seen the beauty in her soul. I’ve seen it in her smile, in the way she opens herself up to people. I see it in the way she is with Millie and even Miko. She has a curiosity, an urge to know more, a selfless quality.