Working Desires: A Dirty Office Romance Boxset

by Hazel Keys

  He glanced slowly over at the phone on his desk as it began to ring, the piercing sound of the ringer causing him to wince slightly as he reached over to pluck it from its cradle. He tried to compose himself before speaking into the receiver, doing his best to retain his professional tone despite everything that was going on. “Hello, this is RushIt!, where we provide a lot of quality products along with shipping. How may I help you today?”

  “Hello, I would like to speak to someone about the possibility of ordering one of those comfortable La-Z-Boy’s that was in your catalog,” the voice on the other end of the line said, the cracked tone of voice seeming to belong to an older gentleman.

  “Certainly. I would be more than happy to assist you in your endeavor,” Amun said amicably as he pulled up the catalog on his laptop, quickly searching through the La-Z-Boy’s that they had in stock. “Are there any particular qualities that you would like the chair to have?” he inquired, wanting to get a better idea of what exactly it was that this customer wanted.

  “I don’t need it to be too fancy. I just want a recliner chair that offers me better support for my back because the one I own now makes my back get stiff,” the man said wearily, his shaky voice crackling slightly on his end.

  “Were you interested in a chair that also offered a massage function?” Amun asked, having shrunk the search in order to bring up the options that sounded more like what the customer was looking for.

  “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to it so long as it isn’t too pricey. I don’t want to spend too much on the chair for fear of the missus giving me hell about it,” the customer said, a wheezing laugh shortly following his comment.

  Amun smiled gently at that, leaning his head against his one hand as he gazed towards the screen. It was so tempting to try and get advice from the older man about his relationship, the customer sounding like he would have some sage advice that could help Amun out of his current predicament. He knew that he couldn’t do that because of his professional obligations, but that didn’t mean that the thought wasn’t still tempting. He decided to just chuckle lightly along with the customer, waiting until their laughter had died down a little bit before he spoke again.

  “Well, I have a few here in stock that the massage function only adds about $300 to the price range. I will warn you that these chairs are kind of pricey to begin with, given that they are from La-Z-Boy and all. Chairs without massage functions hover around the $400-$500 range, while those with it can cost you anywhere between $700 and $1,200 depending on which you get,” Amun said hesitantly, listening to the sudden intake of breath on the other end of the line.

  “I do admit, that does sound a little bit pricey,” the customer muttered gently, the sound of a mouse clicking on the other end coming clearly through the receiver. “How much for a lower end massage chair?”

  “From what I see here, we have a few that you could snatch up for less than $800. I am afraid that you will be somewhat limited in the choices you have for the color of that chair, unfortunately,” Amun replied apologetically, hoping that wouldn’t prove to be too much of a deal breaker.

  “Do you have anything in a shade of blue or khaki? My wife wants to make sure that the color doesn’t clash with the rest of our house. She’s really big on the Feng shui stuff, says I’ll throw off the balance of the house or something if I don’t make sure things match,” the customer questioned, the note of incredulity in his voice easy for Amun to recognize.

  Amun’s fingertips tapped across the keys on his laptop for a moment, his eyes looking over the three results that had popped up now that he had disqualified the pricier models as well as those that weren’t the color that the customer had requested. “I have a Navy colored one, and I also have a shade that seems close to khaki,” he said finally, his fingers intertwining in front of him as he held the receiver between his ear and shoulder.

  “The navy colored one sounds more like what I have in mind,” came the reply on the other end of the line, Amun letting out a silent huff of relief.

  “Perfect sir. Why don’t I go ahead and walk you through the process of how to get to the page with the item you want, and then I can let you take it from there. How does that sound?”

  It took about fifteen minutes for Amun to help the older gentleman find the page that he was looking for, the hearing difficulties that the older man possessed contributing in a large part to that, but eventually they managed to come to an understanding. Amun thanked the man for calling and invited him to call again if he had any questions before finally hanging up the phone, sitting back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling forlornly. He glanced over at the time display on the corner of his laptop, grimacing at the fact that he still had a good three hours until his lunch break. He wanted to go talk to Isabella, but one glance out of the window of his office showed him that she still had her door firmly closed.

  At this point, I don’t even care about the award. I just want to apologize and put this whole unpleasant situation behind us. Why did I even bring it up to begin with? Why couldn’t I have followed my own previous advice and left the topic well enough alone? I could have told her any other secret, so why did I choose the one that would have led to us fighting? I knew that bringing it up was going to cause problems, so why did I let it happen?

  He already knew the answer to that question, a small frown tugging down the corners of his mouth. She had brought up the topic, and that had led to the ultimate revelation. He couldn’t put the blame on her since it had been obvious that she was just curious about the award and wanted to confide in her boyfriend about it. She had probably expected his support and genuine insight, not a statement that probably came out really insulting. Saying that he had recommended her for the award had made it sound like he was claiming that she had only won it because of him. The comment had given no mention to her own hard work and the things that she might have done to actually earn the award, instead only focusing on what was probably only one of many factors that had led to Ryan’s decision.

  I wish that there was someone that I could talk to about it, he though sadly. It would be nice to have someone else’s opinion on this.

  Two days later his wish came true. Amun came into the office that Thursday morning to find himself face to face with both Tristan and Bella, who had apparently just returned from their honeymoon the night before and seemed ready to get to work.

  “Hey there, Amun, long time no see,” Tristan said jovially as he walked up to his friend, smacking Amun gently on the back as he spoke. “Feels like forever since we last saw one another.”

  “It has been a while,” Amun agreed heartily, returning the smack to Tristan’s back in a textbook case of male bonding. “It is good to see that you haven’t put on any weight while you were gone. Must have kept busy on your honeymoon,” he said snidely, casting a knowing glance between Tristan and Bella before winking.

  “The resort had plenty of activities that they offered their guests, so there was never really a dull moment,” Bella chimed in as she moved up beside Tristan, looping her arm through his, their wedding bands glinting on each of their left hands.

  “Uh-huh, sure,” Amun said teasingly, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I’m sure that it was only the resort activities,” he added, looking towards the two of them with a knowing smile.

  Bella immediately began to blush, and even Tristan seemed to have a suddenly bashful look on his face, exaggeratedly clearing his throat. Amun didn’t tease them anymore about it, letting the two of them head back to their own offices so that they could prepare for their work day. He made plans to go eat lunch with Tristan at lunchtime, figuring that his friend would be the perfect person for him to talk to about his problem. Surely Tristan would have a good idea about how he could make up with Isabella, his friend having been the one who was so helpful in getting him to ask Isabella out in the first place.

  Amun let out a huff as he and Tristan took a seat at the diner, his friend immediately seeming to pick
up on the fact that something was wrong. That was the good part about Tristan; he was far quicker at picking up those kinds of subtle hints than most others. He almost didn’t want to hear his friend ask him what was wrong, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to figure out a way to fix his massive fuck-up without him.

  “So, what is weighing you down, Amun?” Tristan asked as he pulled open his menu, his dark brown skin gleaming in the overhead lights. “I can tell that you aren’t very happy these days. I’ll also go ahead and tell you that I have noticed that you and Isabella weren’t talking to each other at the office like you usually do, so I am inclined to think that the two of you must be having relationship difficulties, am I right?”

  “Hit the nail right on the head,” Amun said bitterly, taking a sip of the coffee that the diner was well known for, the bitter but rich taste rolling across his tongue. “Isabella and I had an argument a couple of days ago.”

  “Really? I never thought I would see the day,” Tristan said with a chuckle, his smile slowly fading at the expression on Amun’s face. “What was the argument about?”

  “Ryan instated an Employee of the Month award recently and he was going around asking people who they thought deserved it, or at least he says so. I was one of the people he asked, and I told him that I thought Isabella should get the award. I had pretty sound reasons in my mind at the time, so I thought that I would be able to just let the matter settle. She could get the award, and I would just be happy for her,” Amun answered, his expression morose.

  “I’m guessing that recently something happened that made it so not okay?” Tristan asked gently, leaning forward slightly with his hands on the bridge his two hands had formed.

  “We drank a little too much the night of our anniversary, and after we slept together she asked if I had any secrets that I hadn’t told her. She said it would be the perfect way to commemorate our first year together, so I figured that it would be fine if I told her. I thought enough time had passed that it wouldn’t really be an issue anymore, but I can see now that I was wrong. I think I messed up really badly and I don’t know how I can fix this,” Amun said, resting his face in his hands wearily.

  “I do admit, that might have been a bad move on your part. However, I do think that you are still well within your power to fix things between the two of you. You just might need to do something outlandish to heal her pride, though. Something that will show her just how badly you want to make up with her,” Tristan remarked, his head turning away for a moment as the waitress arrived with their order.

  “What sort of outlandish thing should I do?” Amun asked, his eyebrow raised. “I don’t want to do anything that is going to risk me going to jail.”

  “No, not outlandish in that sense,” Tristan replied with a laugh, his chest shaking with obvious mirth. “I just meant that you might have to go cheesy romantic in order to fix it. I think that right now Isabella might be experiencing hurt at the fact that she is under the illusion that you don’t truly believe that she deserved the reward. Maybe she feels guilty that she took the reward from you, and the fact that you contributed to it has somehow managed to rub salt in that wound. All I know is that you have to show her that you support the choice for her to have gotten the award while simultaneously apologizing. I admit I don’t envy you right now.”

  “Thanks for that,” Amun replied smugly, eliciting another laugh from Tristan. “Any more helpful suggestions?”

  “Do you play any instruments?” Tristan asked, his knife slicing through the steak that he had ordered for his meal.

  “I can play guitar and piano,” Amun replied as he blew on his spoonful of soup. “My father was originally intending for me to become a musician when I grew up, he was going to manage me and everything. Then, when I was 18, he got diagnosed with a wasting sickness that is slowly wrecking his voice. It pretty much killed his enthusiasm for my music career and he told me to go to America for business. I can still remember how sad he looked the day we said goodbye at the airport.”

  “Wow, that got surprisingly heavy,” Tristan said casually, taking a sip of water to wash down a bite of his steak. “That is good, I guess. Not the stuff about your dad, but the stuff about you playing guitar. Do you own one?”

  “I may still have my old one sitting in my closet,” Amun replied hesitantly, his head tilting to the side slightly. “Why?”

  “You may want to brush the dust off and tune it up real nice. You are probably going to want that,” Tristan said, a small conspiratorial smile now spreading across his face.

  “What will I need it for?” Amun asked blankly, not quite understanding where his friend was trying to go with this. “Am I going to play her a song?”

  Tristan pushed his now empty plate to the side, wiping his lips and hands on his napkin and taking a sip of water before he spoke again. “Even better, my Indian friend. You are going to sing her one.”

  “Sing and play guitar? Won’t that make me look like some kind of idiot? What am I going to do, stand outside of her apartment and sing to her through her open window?” Amun asked incredulously, the look of disbelief evident on his face.

  “You’ve seen enough sitcoms to know how I’m about to answer that question, don’t you?” Tristan replied smugly, taking another sip of his coffee.

  “I was afraid that you were going to say something like that,” Amun said with obvious reluctance, swallowing nervously.

  Chapter Ten

  Isabella

  Isabella sighed gently as she sat on the couch of her apartment, looking through different flyers for single apartments. Bella had told Isabella that she was moving in with Tristan definitively, which meant that Isabella would no longer need the large three-bedroom apartment to herself anymore. It was bittersweet for Isabella, who was happy for her friends for their successful love lives but sad that they would no longer be sharing a home. She wished that she could talk to Amun about it, but she was still angry with him.

  She had spent the better part of the night before ranting to Bella, recalling her conversation with Amun and explaining in detail why she was angry with him. “I was trying so hard to cheer him up in the aftermath of him hearing that you and Tristan might be moving to a branch company because of how moody he got, and then when an opportunity comes along that he can actually get an award he gives it to me? Why?” she had complained angrily, plopping down with a huff on the couch next to her friend, carrying two cans of soda.

  “Maybe it was because he felt like you genuinely deserved it,” Bella had offered, taking one of the cans from her friend and popping open the tab. “If that was what he said to Ryan then I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “I feel like it isn’t because he thinks I genuinely deserve it,” Isabella blurted, her face set in a look of intense sadness. “I don’t want to get an award that way. I want to receive it because my boss genuinely thinks I earned it. I feel like the only reason he recommended me was because I was his girlfriend and he wouldn’t want to feel like he was rubbing it in my face. So he chose to say that I deserved it for some reason so that wouldn’t happen.”

  “When you say it that way, it sounds like he was being awfully considerate,” Bella said gently, looking at her friend with a sad smile on her face. “I think you might have taken what he said the wrong way, Isabella. Don’t you trust Amun enough to think that he could genuinely believe in you enough that he would recommend you for the award because he truly felt that way? He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would play the long con like that. He likes you too much to yank you around like that.”

  Isabella found herself at a loss for words, slowly recounting the circumstances of that night in her head one more time. There hadn’t been anything gloating or malicious in his voice when he had told her, his eyes having been gleaming in an almost apologetic way as he spoke. She had been the one to insist that he tell her a secret to begin with, and with how good of a time they had been having he had probably had his guard down enough to reveal it t
o her. The more she considered that the worse she began to feel, slowly setting her unopened soda down on the table as she looked over at her friend with a look of uncertainty now fixated to her face.

  “Did I freak out for no reason?” she finally asked quietly, her fingers fidgeting slightly in her lap as she looked over at Bella.

  “I can’t say it was for no reason, but I can say that you might have reacted a bit strongly. How long has it been since you talked to him?” Bella asked softly, her hand reaching over to squeeze her friends arm consolingly.

  “It’s been about three days, maybe four,” Isabella replied softly, her head tilting to the side as she tried to think back to when their anniversary had been. It had felt like forever being away from Amun, but when she glanced at the date on her phone she could see that they had only been arguing for three days now. “Three days. It’s been three days,” she corrected.

  “That’s not too bad,” Bella said sagely, taking another sip from her soda before setting it on the table. “Gave you a few days to cool down and think things out. I am sure he would be more than happy to forgive you since he probably blames himself for the whole argument, and then the two of you can go back to your lovey-dovey selves.”

  “Will it be that easy? I’ve seen how heartbroken he has looked when I ignore him. I have had to see him get more and more depressed each day at work. How can I go to him and tell him that the only reason he had to go through that was because I took his words the wrong way?” Isabella complained, leaning her head back against the couch and exhaling an exasperated sigh. “Why do I have to be so stupid?”

  “We all make mistakes,” Bella offered gently, patting the back of her friend’s hand consolingly. “I think that you might be overthinking it again. Just send him a text and tell him that you want to see him so that you two can talk. I bet he’ll fly over here.”