The Temp

by Cates, A. K

  “Eve?”

  Silence.

  The phone had dropped out.

  PART III

  Protecting what’s yours

  22

  Panic hit first. Eve sat up against the stark light. Her stomach flipped like a pancake, she fell back and rolled over as the headache invaded her. Oh god, where was she? She couldn’t think against the brightness, the pounding inside her skull. Think. Light played overzealous boring through her like x-rays. She couldn’t remember the last time or any time she’d been like this.

  Her hands pressed to her head in an effort to dull the thudding pain. Eve groaned against the pillow, her breathing laboured, her stomach fighting a wayward battle with whatever was lingering inside it.

  What had happened last night? What did she remember?

  She squinted back turning over, the only way she could confirm where she was, was to look, observe and remember, none of which seemed pleasant. The drapes dappled in harsh light. She reeled back, shielding her view. Everything was too bright and too light, compounding on her body. If this were heaven, she hadn’t deserved to end up here.

  Recognition didn’t hit at first.

  With gradual ease, colours filtered in behind the greys and whites. The walls were a dainty lilac, the spur of the moment on sale colour at the hardware store. The chest of drawers was a rare find from a charity shop. The threadbare blankets were a hand-me-down and rare reminder of her mother, one of the only reminders left.

  This was her place. Eve squinted back bringing her room in and out of focus, wishing the answer would present itself soon enough. How did she get here?

  She tried to recall what had happened last night…it was a blank, a high pitched white blank of neon lights and a blaring base.

  She rolled over. She was in her panties and bra. Panic flared in as Eve touched herself. How did she get this naked? Draped over the armchair were her clothes, her grey pencil skirt and her cream blouse. Her heart escalated into her mouth. What indeed had happened? The clues were only getting worse. The fragments of last night refused to come together no matter how hard she willed them. So like all sensible women, Eve was thinking the absolute worst.

  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. She rolled over to her other side and came face to face with him. Oh my god. Her hand flew to her mouth, her stomach fluttered.

  He was naked. Completely, except a pair of slate coloured boxers hugging his hipbones. His skin was olive and smooth rippling into stomach muscles and biceps. There was a lot of him to take in. Him. How? She swallowed back, for the first time she could stare unabashedly without the fear of getting caught. Oh how his face was softly angled and strong, his lashes long and dark.

  Eve reached out and stopped. This was Roman, the world’s most eligible and hard to come by bachelor and here he was naked and asleep in her bed.

  Had they had sex last night? Alarm bells should have been ringing, seeing him there so without, so vulnerable. She couldn’t bring herself to think the worst even if she should. She turned onto her side, her body at an angle to his, her elbow up.

  His lips were pink and parted. He was peaceful, dead to the world, his chest and stomach gradually rising and dipping in the soft contours of sleep. He was an angel with clipped wings. Clipped wings. Her stomach fluttered again. Those full lips, how wonderful they might be, to kiss them without a second’s thought. It would be like sleeping beauty. She would kiss his lashes, his lips and wake him from his hundred year sleep. And he would love her at first sight and they would live happy ever after-

  Her fingers reached out in utter need.

  His eyes opened before they made contact, sparkling dark pools fixed on her. “Good morning.”

  Eve snatched her hand back, caught in the act. “Is it? I have the world’s biggest headache,” she rolled onto her back as if almost touching him had never happened. She let out a world of sighs.

  “I have the world’s most beautiful woman in bed.”

  Eve rotated her body to her bedside table. “Ruined it.”

  She wasn’t the world’s most beautiful woman or even in those leagues and yet her stomach jerked.

  He caught her wrist pulling her back towards him, his chest pressing into hers. “Did you ever think you ruin it by waking up from this fantasy?” his gaze held hers and she wanted to speak, to say something, anything. Her lips parted.

  Roman’s eyes sparked amber in the beaming light. The heavens suited him. He would never get kicked out no matter what he did. Or who he did it to.

  “Aren’t you holding yourself to a high standard? I mean, what makes you think this is my fantasy or any woman’s fantasy?” it was like lying through her teeth. He was her fantasy, every part of him. Admitting it meant admitting she liked these games they played, maybe she didn’t, maybe she did.

  “You called me last night,” he still held her wrist and warmth flowed through their connection. Her skin pinked before him. Oh my god, her eyes widened. She had, hadn’t she? Slowly those fragments of last night came back to haunt her.

  “I called many people.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You called Trigger,” his jaw set, those same eyes became hard and distant.

  Eve swallowed her cotton mouth. “I did?”

  “He showed up at the club, it was a tug of war over who would take you home. I won.” He watched her reaction. “Am I to believe he’s the mystery guy?” the way he said it had her wondering how long he’d believed there was someone else. There wasn’t anyone else, least of all Trigger.

  “Trigger?” her cheeks tinted as she turned away. Eve rolled over this time and placed her hands on the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing between me and Trigger,” she shut her eyes hating the lie as it hissed out of her teeth. Nothing. Something.

  There was an indefinable thing between her and Trigger, a truth, a common goal, a blackmail. She could confide in him at times and at others hate him as if he were the blackmailer himself, as if he were responsible for everything bad happening in her life. It wasn’t that alone. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was an attraction towards him for whatever unfathomable reason that Eve prayed was something akin to Stockholm syndrome. They were in the same boat. He was the only one she could come to about her real problems. Stockholm syndrome, if only it could be explained away like that. A confidence had grown between them. It was the only reminder in the middle of the night she wasn’t alone.

  She had Trigger no matter how twisted that might be.

  “I was drunk. I called whoever had annoyed me,” Eve placed her fingers to her temples and rubbed, rolling back and forth, spurring the blood to flow.

  “And Trigger”-Roman’s breath was in her ear tickling her bare flesh.

  “Is my old boss, how can he not annoy me?”

  “And me?”

  She let out a dry laugh. “How can you not annoy me?”

  “Annoy you,” he mused. “Is that what we’re calling it?” He rested behind her, his body millimetres from touching her skin, his warmth calling her to fall back and close the gap. Eve blinked back the migraine, an icicle forming in the back of her head.

  He rose up behind her. “Why were you drinking last night Eve?”

  “Don’t,” she snapped fighting her roiling stomach, “say my name like that.” She pressed a hand to her temple again.

  “Like what?” he whispered in her ear, his breath caressing her neck.

  She wanted badly to arch against his body and his distance, his near distance was a trick, on purpose, he was willing her to do exactly that. “Stop.”

  “We’re not at the office; you don’t work for me anymore, Eve. There are fewer obstacles.”

  “Stop. I work in your company. It’s bad enough.”

  “I remember, I was the boss, still am.”

  “I work for Trigger and for your company. I’m only one floor under you.”

  “I like you under me,” Eve’s back melted a margin. Oh how easy this could all be, how easy if she gave in to him. Mayb
e she should. Maybe-“You don’t have to work for my company. I can change it.”

  “Great, thanks. That’s a great way to start the day, me getting fired because my position is cock blocking you,” Eve shuffled forward, only inches, the magnetic pull still too strong for her to get away all together.

  “Say it again.”

  “What?”

  “That word.”

  Eve scrunched her eyes. The headache didn’t feel as pertinent as it had a moment ago. Her mind was doing everything in slow motion this morning, if it was morning. She considered the consequences of getting fired by Roman Pierce. He was the head of the company, what he said couldn’t be worked around or unsaid. If he fired her it would be permanent and no matter how hard Trigger tried it would be Roman’s last word. No turning back. At least she wouldn’t be their tool anymore. She could cut her losses.

  His hands come round her waist pulling her back to the present and her head fell back and suddenly his lips kissed the nape of her neck. A hand trailed down parting her breasts, sending goose bumps all the way to her nipples.

  She wanted to be free.

  And Roman could do it for her.

  “Wait,” she breathed. Her head spun. Her will wasn’t strong enough to stop him. “Wait,” she said again, this time more forceful. She pushed off the bed. “What if I really do want you, what then?” her fingers trembled at her sides, the distance between them was so close and yet a mile away, she could hardly bring herself to look at him as she admitted it. She wanted him.

  Roman rose up and sat back on his knees. His stomach muscles crunched and rippled. Eve’s gaze pulled in and she forced herself to look away again.

  “What are you saying?”

  “What are you saying?” she countered.

  “I want you, Eve. I think you’ve known it for a while.”

  “I think I know in which capacity.” He answered her with a sardonic smile. “I wouldn’t be able to work for your company anymore.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Eve folded her arms.

  “Of course I’d make sure you received a glowing reference and I can set you up with another job at another firm as soon as you’d like.” Her mouth straightened.

  “That’s not what I’m after.” Men. For a man so capable of making her body jerk to his will he sure didn’t know what it truly was Eve wanted from him.

  “What would you like?” he watched her with calculating eyes, a hint of his business self returned, the man who could rule the world.

  “I don’t know,” this time Eve felt confessional. She didn’t know what she truly wanted. Or at least, she wished he could decipher it. If only he could read her mind.

  She wanted…to get out, to stop the blackmail, to have Roman. All of those possibilities conflicted with each other. There was no happy ending no matter how much she idled on it. She threw up her hands, “I can’t think with you naked.” His eyes crinkled and he let out a laugh. “I need breakfast,” she braced her hands to her head, “and Advil.”

  “Let’s go out.”

  “No, I want the comfort of my own home. I can relax here. I’m making eggs.”

  His gaze turned to a smoky fire. “No woman has ever made breakfast for me.”

  Eve’s eyebrows shot up. “No one?” that’s a little sad, she wanted to add and refrained from doing so. “Well, I’m not any woman and at least I can cook.”

  “At least I don’t have to make myself decent,” he mused and crawled towards her on the bed. Roman Pierce was crawling towards her! The dark angel wanted her!

  She put out her hand.

  “You will if you want me to think straight.”

  “I don’t.”

  23

  It had taken an extreme amount of willpower.

  Eventually, Eve was staring at the demi-god from across her kitchen counter, a measure of space that wasn’t far enough for anyone with even an ounce more self restraint than Eve. Eve wanted to pounce, the urge was blatantly there. A mere mortal such as herself should be able to make breakfast and control herself. Mere mortal…as if he would accept her anyway. She was a toy in his eyes. The more she thought of him as a god the less she was worthy to even be in his presence. It was going to be a long morning, what with the Greek mythology and a ramped hangover.

  Thank god for the kitchen counter.

  Her place was small enough already without a billionaire playboy judging it to his standards, this must have been a closet to him. His wardrobe would have been bigger than this.

  Eve’s pulse thrummed with too much energy. Her blood hummed in its veins singing to him like he was a magnetic force.

  The way his eyes gleaned hers unabashedly. The way he saw her, so naked, so bare, how could he not know her secrets plain on her face? She kept hard at work cracking eggs into the bowl and whisking away, hiding every nervous action as proactive movement.

  She was going to have to get used to him being here. She didn’t know what she wanted out of him, something she could call her own perhaps? She couldn’t delude herself knowing his history. What could he give her? What could he truly give her?

  Minutes later she poured the scrambled eggs onto the plate and set it before him. At least he wasn’t naked anymore, in his white shirt from the night before, slightly crumpled. At least he was descent…Don’t go there!

  “You don’t have any social media accounts,” he said.

  Eve blinked back, her brow marring. “You looked me up? You Googled me?” As much as the flattery hit first there was an invasion to her privacy. She’d become accustomed to feeling overly protective over privacy. She shouldn’t be Google-able. She couldn’t be; she’d made sure of it.

  “All my employees have to be checked out online.”

  Eve bit into a toasted triangle, in dire need to keep her hands and mouth busy. “I’m sure you’re not the one who has to do it. It seems a little below your pay grade.”

  “I had to. You’re not even on linked-in. As a temp, shouldn’t you be putting yourself out there?” this caused her cheeks to flush hot red. His voice calmed a fraction, “I had nothing to go on except a name and a profile.”

  She smiled to herself. “Roman Pierce Googled me.”

  “You didn’t do the same?”

  Eve bit into another triangle. “I like being unconnected,” she dug a fork into her eggs, somehow she had no appetite yet forcing herself to keep busy would distract her from the beauty before her. Beauty, such an understatement. Was it beauty and the beast? Was she the beast? She couldn’t be so hideous in comparison to him, she tried to assure herself or else why would he be here anyway? Why indeed?

  His head tilted on its axis. “I don’t. You’re an enigma.”

  “Coming from the sphinx, I might be inclined to take that as a compliment.”

  “Sphinx,” he mused. “I like that.”

  “Call me old fashioned”-

  “Old fashioned.”

  “I deleted my accounts,” she said.

  “Why?” why indeed.

  “I found it was attracting unwanted attention,” Eve glanced away; her feelings flush on her skin. It had been one of her downfalls into the life of a blackmailee. She was sure there’d been something online linking her to a past she didn’t like nor could forget. At first having social media accounts was a fun way of keeping in contact with the few people she still knew in this world. Eventually, she realised the technology and its advances were of no advantage to her. There were face recognition technologies being utilised in everyday web nets, her face for the world to see.

  It made her heart race, her chest hurt.

  She shouldn’t have such a past; no one should. In earnest, things the blackmailers knew didn’t have to do with her, it was more her family and what they’d done. She was guilty by association. Now she was in the thick of it and she’d never been guiltier in all her life.

  “Eve,” Roman breathed. Her pupils dilated. “Where did you go?”

  “What?” she busied with the plates, piling th
em together.

  “For a second you were far away.”

  “Sorry,” she smiled pseudo sweetly.

  “Eve, you’re giving me nothing.”

  “You have my resume and my previous work places. It’s more than others get.”

  “How someone is at work doesn’t define how they are outside.”

  Eve couldn’t agree. To be honest her outside life had sparked how she was seen at work, by Trigger especially. Oh, no. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Did I really call Trigger last night?” it hadn’t registered until this very second.

  His face held hers narrowing in a dark stand off. “He came to the club,” his voice was clipped.

  “What happened?”

  “It was decided I would take you home and he would call in the morning to see if you were alright,” there was an edge to his voice that had her biting her lip. Was he jealous? How could he be? Trigger was Trigger.

  Her phone buzzed right on cue.

  Eve answered on the first ring. “Trigger I’m sorry about last night.” She looked at Roman and turned her back away and walked into the bedroom. There was an underlying message Roman was trying to convey to her, a tensing of his jaw. Eve didn’t have time for his mucho antics.

  “What happened last night?” Trigger said. He jumped right in like he always did. No, hi, how are you? How are you feeling after last night? For once she wanted a kind of Trigger she could understand.

  “I can’t talk about it right now,” Eve said. She knew the distance from her bedroom to the kitchen and knowing everything could be heard. It was weird to have to whisper in the vicinity of another man, she’d never done it before, especially one as hot as Roman. Why did she feel so guilty and ashamed?

  “You’re not alone,” Trigger confirmed. “Is he there?” there was an underlying clip to his voice, one she couldn’t decipher. Great, two men mad at her. It was a fantastic start to the day. “What were you doing at that club anyway?”