by Shelly Ellis
Paulette slowly pushed herself up to her elbows as her vision finally cleared. The bedsheet that was thrown over her tumbled down to her lap and she looked down and realized in horror that she was naked.
“Where the hell are my clothes?” she yelled, springing up from the bed. She felt dizzy all over again and panicked that she was about to collapse. She grabbed the headboard, closed her eyes, and waited until tilt-a-whirl settled.
“Where the hell do you think they are?” he laughed. “You took them off.”
She started to shake her head then stopped when the dizziness came back. “No . . . no, I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did.” He turned to her. “You don’t remember, baby?”
Her blood ran cold. She pulled the bedsheet tighter around her. “W-what are . . . what are you talking about?”
“Don’t worry.” He held up his cell phone and shoved it toward her. “I took videos in case you forgot.”
He pressed the screen button and the video began. Paulette watched as she lay face down on the bed with Antonio laying on top of her, grunting and humping his hips. She cringed. It was obvious to her she was clearly unconscious, but a casual viewer may not come to a similar conclusion—and Marques knew that.
“We were having some fun, weren’t we, baby?” he asked over the sound of his groans.
She gripped the headboard to keep from falling to her knees. Her eyes welled with tears.
“Why . . . why would you do this?”
“Do what?” He glanced at the phone screen. “You mean take a video of us making love?”
“Making love?” she screeched. “Making love? You raped me! You drugged me! How could you—”
“Prove it,” he said. He glanced at the phone screen again. “I say we were making love and if you act up again and tell me no when I ask you for anything . . . and I mean anything, Paulette, I’ll show this to your man and I’m posting this shit on YouTube. And I’m sure he and every other motherfucker in the world will think the same thing that I do.”
Paulette closed her eyes feeling overwhelmed with both shame and anger. How could she had walked into yet another trap? How could she have let Marques do this to her?
He suddenly reached for her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He tugged down the bedsheet and grabbed a handful of one of her breasts. She quickly began to struggle in his grasp but stopped when he barked, “What did I just say?”
At the reminder of his threat, she stilled and glared down at him as he shoved her down on his lap. His fingers trailed over her nipple and she felt his burgeoning arousal through the thin cotton of his boxer briefs, making her tremble with fury and outrage, making her want to scream.
He stared up at her. “So when you gonna get me my fifty grand?”
Chapter 18
LEILA
“Good morning,” Leila called as she walked through the revolving doors. She scampered across the atrium and past the stainless-steel receptionist desk of Murdoch Conglomerated, careful not to spill any coffee from the paper cup she carried.
“Oh! Uh, g-good morning, Ms. Hawkins!” said the security guard.
The guard didn’t stop Leila this time to give her the third-degree or even make her sign her name on the clipboard that sat on the edge of the desk. Everyone knew that Leila Hawkins was Evan Murdoch’s new executive assistant and to harass her was the same as harassing Mr. Murdoch, which just wasn’t done.
Leila boarded the elevator that, thankfully, was empty, then zipped to the twelfth floor, where she passed yet another desk—this time manned by a plump receptionist whose hair was a very unexceptional shade of chestnut brown.
“Good morning, Emily!” Leila called out again.
“Morning, Leila!” Emily sang back, shifting her headset aside.
“Did I beat him?”
The receptionist laughed. “Yeah, he’s not in yet. You’ve got a few minutes.”
“Thank God!” Leila cried before turning to head to her office.
“Wait! Wait!” The receptionist stood up and reached for a tall glass vase on the counter that was overflowing with red and pale pink roses. “I almost forgot. These are for you!”
Leila almost did a double take. “For me?”
“Oh, yeah!” Emily nodded and held the vase toward her. “And by the looks of those roses, you’ve got quite the admirer! They’re gorgeous, Leila!”
Leila grabbed the bouquet and opened the small white envelope nestled in one of the rose petals. She flipped the envelope open and read the card inside it.
Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman, the note read. I’m sorry for the way I behaved. It was a bad day. I hope you’ll give me a second chance. Love, Dante.
“Gah, I’m so jealous!” Emily squealed as Leila read the note.
Leila pursed her lips. “Don’t be,” she said over her shoulder before racing the thirty yards to the other end of the corridor toward her desk, which sat directly in front of Evan’s office.
She had no interest in the flowers or the person who had sent them. Ever since her last date with Dante, she planned to put as much distance between herself and him as possible.
She dropped her purse in her roll-away chair, before using her key to open Evan’s office door. She placed the vase filled with roses on the center of his coffee table, quickly removing the ribbon and tucking Dante’s card in her pocket. Evan’s schedule for the day sat on her printer and she grabbed it. She then raced inside his office and turned on the overhead lights, placed the paper printout of his schedule on the center of his desk, and raised the window blinds. Leila went back to her desk to get the cup of gourmet coffee and toasted butter croissant she had purchased at the bakery downstairs that morning. She set them both next to his schedule. Finally, she did a quick scan of his desk again to make sure everything was as it should be, and raced back through the door to her desk.
By the time Evan arrived at his office eight minutes later, Leila already had listened to his voice messages as well as hers, made the necessary adjustments to his schedule due to one meeting cancellation, and confirmed his and her hotel reservations and chartered a private jet for a two-night stay in L.A. for a business trip next week.
As Evan strode toward her, Leila felt like she had been to Albuquerque and back, but she didn’t show it. When he reached her desk, she looked calm and serene, prepared to commence the routine they seemed to reenact daily. If Evan was anything, he was a creature of habit.
“Morning, Leila,” he said, glancing up from his BlackBerry.
“Good morning, Evan.” She grinned and looked up from her computer screen. “How are you today?”
“Good, good.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Any surprises I should know about?” he asked as he strolled into his office. It was the same question he asked every morning.
That was her cue. She stood up from her desk, quickly grabbed her notepad and pen, and followed him through his office doorway.
“Your one p.m. meeting was canceled, but you still have the meeting scheduled with Jim in fifteen minutes. He wanted to bring in the marketing team to make sure all you guys were in consensus,” she said. “He told me to let you know so that there were no surprises.”
Evan nodded absently as he continued to read the emails on his BlackBerry.
She stared down at her notes. “You have that interview with Black Inc. magazine scheduled for eleven.”
Evan threw back his head and groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I have to remind you, Ev. That’s my job.”
“I hate talking to the press. They always make me seem so . . .” He tossed his leather satchel into his chair and grabbed the cup of coffee she had left for him. He grimaced before taking a sip. “. . . so stiff.”
Leila stifled a laugh at that one. No one could make Evan seem any stiffer or more reserved than he actually was—which was stiffer than a starched shirt. In the old days, she’d had an arsenal of tricks to get him to loosen up and relax: bad knock-knock jokes, loudly
singing R & B hits off key, and once even breaking into the robot.
But she couldn’t do that now. She was his executive assistant and that required some decorum—the robot notwithstanding.
“You’ll be fine, Ev,” she assured instead. “I forwarded you their questions last week. They said they’ll stick to those. No surprises. Just stay to your talking points.”
“I’ll try,” he murmured, before dropping his BlackBerry onto his desk. He glanced at the vase on his coffee table. “What’s that doing here?”
She followed his gaze. “You mean the roses? I thought some flowers might brighten up the place.”
His office often seemed so lifeless, like a warehouse. Every time she stepped inside the space, she wanted to add color to the walls or a lush throw pillow to the sofa—anything to soften the room, to add a little warmth. Leila had no use for Dante’s flowers, but maybe they could bring Evan’s office a little bit of badly needed warmth.
He considered the flowers then shrugged. “If you say so. Just tell me how much they cost and I’ll reimburse you.”
“You don’t need to reimburse me. They’re just flowers!” She flipped her notepad closed. “Besides, I didn’t pay for them. They were a gift.”
“A gift?” He abruptly turned away from the roses. “It’s not your birthday. What’s the occasion? Who sent you flowers?”
“Oh . . . nobody you know,” she lied.
He continued to gaze at her searchingly, and she felt like she was under a heat lamp, being forced into a confession.
Though Evan had said he condoned her dating Dante, she knew that he hadn’t liked it one bit. For that reason, she had kept discussions about her dates with Dante, and her love life in general, to a minimum, to keep things from getting even more awkward between her and Evan. But it looked like she wouldn’t be able to do that today.
“Okay, fine.” She flapped her arms. “If you really want to know . . . Dante sent them.”
“Dante?” At the mention of his brother’s name, Evan tried his best to control his facial features, but he didn’t succeed. His nostrils flared and his lips tightened before his expression went placid again. “So Dante’s sending you roses at the office now? You guys must really be getting serious then.”
“Not . . . quite.”
“Not quite? What does that mean?”
Leila sighed. “We’re not dating anymore, Ev.”
“Oh, really?” He smiled before he had a chance to hide that too. “What happened?”
“Nothing! Nothing happened. We’re just . . . not a good match. After a few dates, it was pretty obvious. He’s not a guy I can see in my life for the long term.”
And one of the reasons why she didn’t want him in her life was because he hated her best friend/boss with a passion that unnerved her. Dante also seemed bitter as hell. She didn’t need that kind of bad energy in her life—she’d had enough of it when she was married to Brad.
Evan lowered his coffee cup back to his desk and took a step toward her. “Dante didn’t do anything to you, did he? Because if he did, I swear I’ll—”
“No! No, it was nothing like that. We just didn’t . . . click. That’s all. It didn’t work out.”
“Oh! Well, that’s . . . that’s good to hear.”
“Thanks for being so protective though. It’s sweet. But don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”
They gazed at one another for a long time after that. Finally, Evan nodded and cleared his throat. “Look, I have to make a few quick calls before my meeting so—”
“No problem!” She turned to head back to his opened door. “I was just leaving. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll send Jim in when he arrives.”
“Thanks, Lee. Oh, and Lee?”
She paused mid-stride and turned back to him. “Yeah?”
“I know you can take care of yourself, but . . . I can’t help but be a little protective. If it’s any consolation, Dante is missing out on a good thing.”
Her cheeks warmed at his compliment and the intensity of his gaze. “Thanks, Ev,” she whispered then swiftly exited his office, shutting the door behind her with a soft click.
When Leila got back to her desk, she slumped into her chair and took a deep breath, and not just because she felt exhausted.
Though she knew Evan tried his best to temper it, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes sometimes told her his attraction for her was still there. They both tried their best to pretend that it wasn’t, as if they were in silent agreement to continue the lie, but it was getting harder to pretend.
Evan still wanted Leila, and frankly, she loved him too—in her own way. How could she not? He had apologized for his past mistakes. He had offered her a home and a job to help her regain her footing. He had extended his friendship again.
She loved Evan and always would love him.
“But do you love him like a brother?” the nagging voice in her head asked. “Or are you starting to feel something more?
Leila faced her computer and began typing a memo, refusing to answer that question. It was too messy to consider anyway. Evan was married. He was her boss. They held no potential romantically.
An hour later, Leila looked up from her monitor screen to find a beautiful woman with dark shades, wearing a flowing yellow sundress, striding through the office entrance toward her. When she realized who the woman was, her face lit up.
“Paulette!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair. She quickly walked around her desk to embrace Evan’s sister. “Ev didn’t tell me you were visiting today!”
“He didn’t tell you because he didn’t know. I just . . . well, I just decided to do an impromptu visit.” Paulette tugged off her sunglasses, walked into Leila’s outstretched arms, and hugged her. “I can’t believe I forgot that you’re his assistant now. I hope that brother of mine is treating you well.”
“Of course, he is!”
Paulette inclined her head and gazed at her knowingly. “And working you hard, I’m assuming.”
“Well, yeah. That too.” Leila laughed.
Evan had warned her that working for him wouldn’t be easy. After being his executive assistant for almost three months, she now knew what he meant. If she’d thought serving a burger joint full of customers could make her head spin, that was nothing compared to working for Evan Murdoch. The guy seemed to have ten things going on at once, and he had an energy level that left her in awe. As his assistant, Leila not only had to keep up with him, but anticipate what he needed and when he needed it. She felt like she was always on standby now, ready to jump up and get him something at a moment’s notice. There was more than one occasion when she had jumped from her bed in the middle of the night to get him something from the printer or copier, only to realize she had been dreaming.
But Evan only asked as much of her as he asked of himself. He was definitely a hard worker. Plus, she was amply compensated for all the stuff she was doing. The salary he was giving her was more than three times what she had been making at Dean’s Big Burger. Thanks to her new job, money was no longer as much of a worry for her. But Evan was definitely making her earn her pay. She had several cans of caffeinated booster drinks in her desk to prove it.
She watched as Paulette glanced over Leila’s shoulder at Evan’s closed office door, looking anxious. “Speaking of my brother . . . is he busy? Can I see him?”
“He’s in a meeting right now.”
She watched as Paulette’s face fell.
“But the meeting should be done soon!” Leila quickly added, holding up her hand. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting for ten or fifteen minutes . . .”
“Of course not. I’ve got time. Plus I . . . I really need to talk to him.”
“I’ll make sure that you do. In the meantime, it’ll give us some time to catch up since we never got to have that lunch.” She pointed at the small sofa opposite her desk. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink? Some coffee or tea maybe?”
“Earl Grey tea wou
ld be nice. Thanks.”
“I’ll be right back.” Leila sauntered off to the nearby lunch room and got the cup of Earl Grey. She returned to her desk five minutes later, carrying a small tray holding a ceramic cup, a few paper packets, and some creamer.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted real sugar or an artificial sweetener,” Leila began as she walked toward the sofa, “so I just brought—”
“I know. I know,” Paulette said tightly into her cell phone. “I’m working on it now.”
Leila instantly fell silent, embarrassed to realize that she’d almost interrupted Paulette’s phone conversation. She stood silently behind the sofa, unsure of what to do next.
“I’ll get you your money.... I’ll get it! . . . Look, don’t threaten me, Marques,” Paulette whispered fiercely.
Leila frowned at the mention of the name Marques. Why did it sound familiar?
“I said I was going to do it and I’m going to fucking do it. So stop calling me!” Paulette spat. “Fine! . . . Fine!”
She then pressed a button on the phone screen and tossed her cell phone onto one of the cushions. She dropped her head into her hands.
Leila finally walked around the sofa and set the tray on the ebony wood coffee table in front of Paulette. Paulette instantly gathered herself together. She sat upright and plastered on a smile though her face looked weary, though her eyes were glistening with tears.
“Here’s your Earl Grey,” Leila said softly.
“Thanks, Lee,” Paulette said in reply, reaching for her cup.