by Katie Fox
“Hey, Elle.”
“Yes?”
“I don’t mean to rush you, but we really need to get going soon. I have to be downstairs in about twenty minutes.”
“Oh, okay. Well, if you need to go, don’t wait for me. I can meet you down there. I won’t be late, I promise.”
I chuckled under my breath. She did have a knack for being late. “I, um…I went downstairs and grabbed coffee and pastries. They are out here on the desk waiting for you once you’re finished getting ready.”
The sound of the water shut off, indicating she was done with her shower, and I didn’t have a chance to react before the door swung open, revealing a naked Elle wrapped in nothing but a white terry-cloth towel, her hair wet and resting against her delicate shoulders. Droplets of water ran paths over her ivory skin, and I swallowed, hard.
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, those pink full lips of hers also wet, and I took a step back. Keeping my eyes glued to hers—knowing damn well that towel stopped mid-thigh and her bare legs were on full display—I didn’t dare look any lower.
Fuck, I need to leave. I need to leave right now.
“You’re welcome. I’m actually going to head down now. I’ll see you down there.” Not waiting for her response, I spun on my heels, discreetly adjusting the front of my now too-tight slacks as I bolted into the empty hallway. My shoulders slumped against the door the second I closed it, and I groaned at the way my blood pulsed hot through my veins and the hard-on that I had no fucking clue how to rid myself of before having to enter a room full of people.
That groan quickly turned into laughter.
This was insane.
She was my assistant—my employee—and here I was thinking of all the ways I could fuck her into tomorrow. I needed to get a grip, fast.
Straightening myself, I gave my head a little shake for clarity and then set off toward the Leland conference room. When I arrived downstairs, the room was full of faces I recognized and others I’d never seen before, which was typical. The conferences held every year were great for all walks of life in the publishing industry: people with twenty to thirty years under their belt and the fresh out of college looking to build their careers. It felt like only yesterday that I was one of them and my father was introducing me to the men and women I’d eventually call my colleagues and some, in the future, my employees. Reading and the love of books had always been in my blood. It was instilled in me when I was young, and oftentimes, I’d sneak into my father’s private library at home, losing myself in imaginary worlds while the neighborhood kids outside found enjoyment in kicking around an inflated ball. They were living one life; I was living thousands.
Shaking hands with Richard from Hourglass Publishing, I noticed my lead director of marketing chatting with a small group of agents in the corner and, politely excusing myself, I walked over to join him.
He grinned as I approached, and stepping through the circle of men and women, he took my hand and yanked me into a one-armed hug. “Owen. How the hell are you, man?”
“I’m good. Hanging in there.” I pulled back, slipping my hands into my pants pockets. “It’s good to see you in person for a change and not through a damn laptop or phone screen.”
“Agreed, man, agreed. You need to get your ass out here more often instead of keeping yourself trapped in that glass tower of yours. Going to have to start calling you Rapunzel.”
We both shared a laugh before smirking. Liam was a couple years older than me, but we got along well which made working together, even from afar, easy.
“Yeah, well, that would involve getting said ass on a plane.”
He shook his head and chuckled, and our conversation was interrupted as Kevin, Marcus, Holly, and Jo—the rest of my marketing team that made up Caldwell’s L.A. office—joined us. Exchanging our usual “how the hell are yous,” we briefly discussed the latest deadlines that were approaching, the itinerary for the weekend, and finally, Elle.
“Is she here?” Holly asked, one hand on her hip, the other grasping a thermos of coffee as her eyes searched the crowded conference room. “I’m anxious to meet her.”
I glanced down at the watch strapped to my wrist. Five more minutes and she was on the way to breaking her promise. Looking around and not seeing her, I frowned. “She’ll be here.”
Come on, Elle. Where are you?
“I have to admit, Owen. I’m interested in hearing her thoughts about the Bower manuscript. We all read over it, and well, if we’re being honest here, I can’t say any one of us were really impressed. I don’t have to tell you it’s going to be a hard sell.”
Kevin’s words were harsh but true. The business of publishing was at times cutthroat. We didn’t have time to waste on manuscripts that didn’t hold promise, and for a flash of a second, in that span of time that Elle wasn’t present, I almost doubted the whole damn thing.
Then the air fell awkwardly silent. All chatter subsided to a barely audible level and heads turned. Eyes stared and lips parted.
My heart stilled.
Shoulders back and a breathtaking smile on her face, Elle entered the room. Her blonde hair lay in gentle waves, framing her face, and her chest rose on an unsteady inhale. The nude-colored dress clinging to her every curve matched the strappy heels adorning her feet, and she stood, unbeknownst to everyone else, completely nervous. I saw it, though. I saw the anxiety she was battling because I saw her—Elle Callihan: a woman with hopes and dreams. Not Elle Callihan: the one who pretended to have it all together.
With no command from me, my feet started toward her. I sidestepped around the people, whose eyes were glued to her, and it was no surprise why. She was stunning. She was heart-stoppingly beautiful, and she was the woman many had been looking forward to meeting. I had been sure to make it known she’d be accompanying me and she was an asset, not only to Caldwell Publishing but to this entire industry.
I stopped in front of her, and she looked around, her chest rising and falling faster now and her voice coming out in a hushed whisper. “Owen, why is everyone staring at me?”
Smiling, I reached out, gingerly cupping my hands around her elbows and smoothing them up her bare arms until they rested on her shoulders. Her skin was soft, cool to the touch, like porcelain. Her gaze dropped to her feet, and I pressed two fingers under her chin, lifting it gently until she was looking nowhere but at me. “It might have to do with the fact that you look absolutely stunning.”
Her eyes widened a little and her breath caught, but I didn’t allow her a moment to dwell on my admission.
“Or it could be because I’ve spent the last few weeks telling them how amazing you are and they’re anxious to meet you.”
Elle’s shoulders dropped and her fingers curled into her palms as we moved out of the doorway and over to a less congested corner. She spoke under her breath, but it didn’t matter: everyone in the room had resumed their conversations, and once again, we were only two people in a group of many.
“Why? Why would you do that? God, Owen. I’m just your assistant. Stop putting me on a pedestal that I don’t deserve to be sitting on.” She shook her head, and if it weren’t for the mask she was hiding herself behind, I’d have sworn there was an expression of irritation painted just for me.
She was downright sexy when she was mad.
Inhaling all her frustrations, she stepped around me and started to make her way into the crowd, stopping only as I called her name.
“Elle.” I curled my finger in a “come here” motion, a silent demand to get her ass back to where I stood. I didn't want her upset with me, and I sure as hell didn’t want her walking off on her own. There would be plenty of time for that later while I moderated the panels. Right now, I wanted her by my side.
Turning that haughty chin upward, she raised her brows and gave me an unamused look. “If you think you can make me come by simply flicking your finger, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken.”
She twisted around, and stunned by her words a
nd the defiant attitude they were delivered upon, I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back and spinning her right into my chest. Her body flush with mine, I held her there, inhaling her sweet scent and loving the way she felt against me.
Fuck, she was perfect.
I dipped my chin at the same time she tilted her head back, and our gazes met in the middle, both burning with the heat rising between us, and I squinted trying to gauge what she might be thinking, feeling. Our lips were close, so close, and my next words spilled across hers on a gravelly whisper, intended for her and her alone. “Care to find out?”
A sudden and sharp gasp from Elle told me she hadn’t missed the desire lacing my tone or the seriousness in my voice. Screw the goddamn conference. I wanted to drag her back to the room and show her how quickly I could make her come with my fingers. The hollow dip in her throat moved on a seemingly forced swallow, and the temptation to press my mouth to her neck, to feel her pulse beneath my lips, was near impossible to resist.
Want, by definition, was to have a desire to possess or to do. And fuck me, I wanted to do. I wanted to possess. Every. Single. Beautiful. Inch.
But I couldn’t.
I wouldn’t.
Snapping myself back into reality, I released her from my hold, fixing my jacket and straightening my tie as she steadied herself on her heels. It was entirely selfish, but I loved knowing I got to her as much as she did me. I loved knowing I affected her.
“Come on.” I licked my lips, filling my head with thoughts of business instead of her as I placed my hand in the small of her back. “There are a few people I’d like you to meet.”
As fully expected, Elle spent the day capturing the hearts of many of my associates. Her wit, her intellect, and her love for the written word made her stand out more than anything I could have said to them. They fell in love with her, and as the day passed, I realized I was in danger of doing the same.
We spent the afternoon attending panels that focused on all areas of publishing, the current trends, market saturation, and social media and its effects currently and what they might be in the future. I found myself less interested in the information being shared and more captivated by how attentive Elle was to everything. Her desire, her passion, it was the same that ran through the blood in my veins, and I imagined that was exactly why I was drawn to her.
On any given day, she was a hot mess. She was late more times than she was early, and she had the worst luck a person could ever possibly have, but she had this deep hunger for success and an optimism unlike anyone else’s.
She was truly something.
She was everything.
Leaning with my shoulder pressed against the wall, I stood back and watched her from a distance—watched the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke, the way she brushed her hair from her shoulders, and the way she’d occasionally glance my way, as if it were me who was providing her the confidence she needed to put herself out there.
But I wasn’t.
It was her. All her.
Unable to be away from her a second longer, I weaved through the groups of people, excusing myself and sidestepping bodies as I walked over to where she stood. Giggly laughter floated from her lips, and I swear my heart sighed at the sound. I cupped her elbow gently, and as those big blue eyes of hers caught mine, she smiled.
“Hey. Everything okay?”
I nodded. “Everything’s fine. I wanted to remind you that your presentation starts in about twenty minutes. We should probably head over to the room now to ensure you’re ready to go.”
She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath and gave me a small nod. “Okay.” She politely said her goodbyes to those she’d been talking to, and as we made our way out of the conference room and down the halls of the hotel, I glanced over at her.
“Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Sensing her unease, I stopped. I slowly turned her to face me and bent at the knees a little to catch my gaze with hers. That full bottom lip I was eager to steal a taste of was wedged between her teeth, and I was hit with a sudden urge to stroke my fingers down her cheek and free it from her nervous grasp.
I convinced myself otherwise.
I had been touching her a lot lately, more than I should be, and doing so now would only make it harder and harder to resist. “You’re going to do great.”
She laughed, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me an unconvinced shake of her head. “You keep saying that.”
“Look, I can’t promise you that they are going to decide to move forward with this manuscript. I can’t. And I don’t want to give you false hope. It’s a tough one to sell, not only to all of them but to a market that doesn’t have much of an audience. But what matters is that you believe in it, Elle.” Cupping her face with my hands, I tilted her head back until her eyes were on mine.
I couldn’t help it.
I needed to touch her.
I needed to know she was looking at me and, more importantly, that she was listening.
“And I believe in you. The only thing that needs to happen now is that you start believing in yourself.” My fingers smoothed over her cheekbones before sweeping away a few silky strands of her hair. “Think you can do that for me?”
She smiled a smile that heated every part of me. “Yeah. I think I can.”
FIVE SETS OF eyes stared at me, and despite the deep breath I’d just taken, my lungs felt as if they were still fighting for air. I rubbed my hands together, my gaze flicking to Owen, who stood in the back of the room, his intense green eyes watching my every move.
He smiled reassuringly, giving me a small nod as one silent word fell from his mouth. “Amazing.”
I couldn’t help but smile back.
God, he was so beautifully handsome, and if it weren’t for him being in the room, I wouldn’t have lasted the first ten minutes into my presentation. His words sat on my shoulder like a little red devil, poking me and prodding me with its damn pitchfork every time I stumbled over my own insecurities. He believed in me, and as it turned out, that was all I needed to believe in myself.
“Well, Ms. Callihan, I must say you’ve given us a lot to think about. Your argument was on point, and while I can’t promise you we’ll take the leap, I will promise that we’ll take everything you’ve presented to us here tonight into consideration.” Liam sat forward, closing the leather notebook he had been actively writing in throughout my presentation. “We’ll discuss it and should have a decision by Monday. And regardless of what becomes of the Bower manuscript, I think I speak for everyone here when I say we’re quite impressed and look forward to working with you on more projects in the future.”
My heart beat fast at his words, the Bower manuscript seeming less important at that exact moment. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
They all rose from their chairs, crossing in front of the table and shaking my hand before stopping and talking to Owen on their way out. He had since moved beside the door, his focus on them, but I felt his gaze on every part of me. It was like the longer I was around him, the more I craved his everything. And as terrifying as it was to think of him as anything other than my boss, I was desperate to tear down whatever this wall was between us and give in to what I was now confident we both secretly wanted—each other.
Once the room emptied, we both stood quietly, a million unspoken thoughts bouncing in the small distance separating us. He took a step forward, breaking our silence. “What do you say we go back to the room, change into something a bit more comfortable, and I take you to dinner.”
My lips tugged into a grin, and I nodded in agreement. “Okay.”
Owen’s hand found its usual place at the hollow at the base of my spine, and as we navigated the halls and rode the elevator up to the eighth floor, an energy ignited between us I’d never felt before. My body was on this high, perhaps from the adrenaline still pumping through my veins, but I was all too aware of him—the heat of his palm an
d the gentle touch of his fingers.
Without saying anything, we entered our room, and I immediately went for my suitcase, searching for a dinner permissible outfit. Pulling out a pair of jeans and a cute blouse, I made my way to the bathroom, hesitating at the sound of Owen’s phone ringing.
I stood on the other side of the door, which sat partially open, listening to half of the conversation.
“Hey. You missing me already?” His chuckle echoed through the room, and my interest piqued. Curious as to who he was speaking to, I glanced around the doorframe and leaned my ear closer.
“Yeah. No. I totally understand.” He paced the floor in front of the bed, his jacket unbuttoned and a hand on his hip. “Yeah. Yeah. Okay. No, I totally get it. I'll let her know. Thanks for calling.”
Owen slowly pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected the call, and as he turned around, I ducked back into the bathroom, hoping he hadn’t caught me eavesdropping on his conversation.
“Elle.”
I opened the door a bit too fast for my liking and stepped out, still in my original dress and heels. “Yeah?”
He was in front of me now, his expression hard to read. “That was Liam on the phone.”
“Oh?” My pulse sped up beneath my skin. “Is everything okay? I didn’t think he’d be calling until Monday.” He didn't respond, and I feared I knew why. I tried not to frown or sound too disappointed, but I couldn't help it. “They’re not going to take a chance on it, are they?”
Licking his lips, Owen pressed them into a firm, straight line. His eyes were cast downward, and the moment they flicked to mine, I knew. I knew.
“No.”
Disappointment felt like a tire iron to the chest as air punched from my lungs, leaving behind an ache I didn't know how to soothe. The corners of my eyes stung, and I willed the tears to stay at bay. I don't know why I was so emotional. It was just a story belonging to a stranger I had never met, but a part of me had this notion that if I could win them over on this I could win them over on me. Two months at Caldwell Publishing and despite what Liam had said, what Owen had said, time and time again, I still didn't feel as though I truly deserved my place. This was supposed to erase that feeling.