by Ana Adams
“See you tomorrow.” He strode past her, suit coat slung over his arm. Georgia stared after him, mouth parted slightly, completely irritated by the casual nonchalance. The normalcy. The way he could act like their dinner the other night hadn’t been a game changer, even though it couldn’t be a game changer.
Georgia, wake up. You’re acting illogical. This cannot happen with Niccolo.
If she ever wanted to have any respect in her field, she needed to put the blinders on. If Niccolo kept up the cold shoulder treatment, maybe it would get easier…with time.
She flipped through the calendar, coming back to the current day. Her finger dropped to five p.m. and lowered, scanning his agenda for any outstanding appointments that he might be leaving early for. Nothing showed; in fact, this appeared to be one of his only free nights. And he’d gone home early.
Questions plagued her: but why? What would he do? Was he meeting someone? Was there another girl in the background, someone else he might wine and dine with oysters and fake donor meet-ups?
Jealousy spiked inside her and she huffed, slamming the calendar shut. This wasn’t just silly, it was preposterous. Feelings like these had no place at the job, and she needed to get a handle on this situation immediately.
Georgia turned to her computer, burying herself in work for the masquerade ball preparations. At this point, her only recourse was to distract herself. That’s what they paid her the big bucks for…she just never imagined the work responsibilities would also include ignoring her sex god boss, too.
A week went by, stifled under the painfully normal interactions required in the morning, lunch hour, and evening. She and Niccolo were the picture-perfect definition of colleagues, the type you could find in the dictionary. All that remained was making a plasticized mold of them shaking hands and beaming out into the world to reiterate the idea that they were strictly coworkers and nothing else.
It felt weird, and wrong. Not because she needed more sex from him, which was totally forbidden thought territory. Mostly because the warming, sorta-like-friends route they’d taken in the early weeks felt right. This sudden curve in the road blasted through her like ice, leaving her feeling bereft and lost on her path.
Wanting more of Niccolo, but not enough of him to get into trouble—was that so much to ask?
Georgia straightened as Niccolo turned the knob of his office door and strode out just before lunchtime. He didn’t glance at her, per the new norm. She watched him walk by, eyes glued to his phone, and snarkiness burbled over before she could restrain it.
“You should really watch where you’re going,” she snapped, searing him with a look. “You stare at that phone so much you’re going to go blind.”
Niccolo paused, blinking at her, his face somewhere between shocked and defensive. “Excuse me?”
She tapped her fingers against the desk, thinning her lips to a line. “You don’t even talk to anyone around here anymore.” She turned to her computer, re-reading the email she’d been looking at before he came out. “It’s like nobody even exists.”
Niccolo was unnervingly quiet for a few moments, and she clicked ‘Reply’ to the email. She wouldn’t look over at him to save her life; she was desperate for a reaction, for any sort of attention.
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he said softly. “Have there been any complaints?”
“A few,” she spat, even though she was the only one who felt this way.
“Hm.” He pocketed his phone. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” He stood there a moment longer, then spun on his heels and strolled away. She deflated once he was gone, letting a puff of air out. She wasn’t sure if that was a victory or a loss, but either way, it had released some of the tension building inside of her for over a week.
When Georgia returned from her own lunch break an hour later, a bouquet of flowers sat on her desk. Tightly packed red, pink, and yellow roses, a bright and fragrant bunch that stole her breath. She rushed to read the card, finding simply “Sorry. –N” on the tiny card. She sighed, looking at his closed door.
She rapped lightly on his door, and his muffled voice instructed her to open it. Pushing the door open slightly, she poked her head through.
“How was your lunch?” She’d take the first step in making things regular between them. Two dozen roses demanded it.
He watched her, an unknown expression clouding his face. “It was good. What about yours?”
“A little boring, but otherwise fine.” Actually, she had barely forced down half of her favorite sandwich. Strange indigestion had been plaguing her, though it probably had everything to do with Niccolo’s strange air. She cleared her throat, wracking her brain for some work-related updates. “Just thought you should know that I scheduled your return flight to Naples for next Friday, returning that Tuesday.”
He nodded, eyes darting up and down her body. “Good. Thanks.”
She smiled and retreated, and he barked out, “Wait.”
Georgia poked her head through the door again. “Yes?”
“Did you see the flowers?”
She grinned. “Well, of course. They’re lovely. Thank you.”
He relaxed into his chair, nodding. “Good.” He paused, looking like he had more to say. “I really am sorry.”
She shrugged. “Well, things got…”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “I won’t let it happen again.”
Doubt flashed through her—he wouldn’t let the cold shoulder happen again, or the sexual slips? She could never ask for clarification on that one, so she had to let it go. “Thanks. I’ll be back later so we can go over a few planning items for the masquerade ball.”
She pulled the door shut, heart wrenching strangely in her chest. It was back to business as usual, and maybe now they could include their familiar friendly rapport.
But why was that not quite enough? She was glad for it but wanted even more from him.
She wanted precisely the one thing she could never have: Niccolo himself.
Georgia slumped into her seat with a sigh. Apologetic roses made it only halfway. What she truly craved was unlimited Niccolo, free rein to get to know him, kisses that scorched over her daily.
His hands and lips had left burn marks on her body, and more of him was the only salve.
A shiver traveled through her from head to toe.
Apparently, time only made things worse when it came to Niccolo.
Chapter Nine
Niccolo gathered up his things on Friday evening, more sluggish than usual. Fridays were usually his day to slip out early, to take advantage of the head start on the weekend.
But ever since he and Georgia had axed the intimate side, he’d developed a habit of lingering.
Georgia poked her head into his office, arching a brow. “Why are you still here? It’s after five.”
“I should ask you the same.” He cleared his throat, stuffing some papers into his briefcase. It had been just two weeks since the night he’d brought her back to his penthouse. Two weeks of recalling those memories like sacred spells, their whisper a permanent presence in the back of his head. He’d thought that it might fade to obscurity after a while, like it did with anyone else he slept with.
But seeing Georgia full-time, five days a week, eight to ten hours per day, meant that every time she walked by, or bent over, or smiled at him, it sent a painful jolt of longing through him.
If you were anybody else, you’d be mine by now.
The thought thundered through him like a spring storm. He ached to invite her to dinner, to invent any excuse to bring her closer to him, if only for a few hours.
“I always stay late on Fridays,” she chirped, bouncing over to the wall of windows. He surveyed her crisp, tailored slacks, the button-up tucked into the high waist, the beautiful curve of her ass that nearly begged him to touch it just one more time. “If you haven’t noticed this yet, Niccolo, we’re going to have to send you to a doctor.”
He hefted with a laugh. “What kind o
f doctor?”
“A doctor that helps you observe things better.” She smirked at him, coming up to the edge of his desk. She sure seemed to have put their mistakes behind her, and fast. “You know, someone who helps you actively notice the world around you.”
He fought a smile. Their frequent ribbing reminded him that, at the very least, they still had something resembling a friendship between them. A fluid camaraderie that made the work days enjoyable and fun. “I notice plenty of things, I’ll have you know.”
“You didn’t even comment on my new hair,” she shot back.
Niccolo froze, gaze sliding guiltily up to her hairdo. It looked the same as always—or at least close enough. “Did you…do something?”
“No, but I wanted to make you sweat.” She rapped her knuckles on the desk and strutted away, the perfect fruits of her ass snagging him as she headed for the door. “Have a good weekend. See you on Monday.”
“Wait.”
She slowed, turning to him with a surprised look on her face, matching his own surprise. He hadn’t meant to say it—nor did he have anything to follow it up.
“What are your plans for this weekend?” He eased back into his chair, trying to look relaxed. He glanced at his phone. 5:25 p.m. If anything, he could claim it was after-hours, and therefore fine to fraternize…a bit.
“Oh, just a few different things,” she said, waving her hand in the air as though to dismiss it. “What about you?”
He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. The same.”
An awkward silence bloated between them and Niccolo tapped his pen on the desktop, teeth gritting as he steeled himself to just leave the conversation there.
She nodded, smiling tightly. “Cool.”
He rapped his knuckles on the desk and stood. “Great. I’ll walk you out.” He gathered his briefcase and headed for the door, heart thudding. A serious battle of good versus evil played out inside his head, the dark side urging him to ask her to dinner, the pure side telling him to stay far, far away.
Because Georgia only ever equaled giving in to those desires. Letting the dark whisper become a shout.
He should know better—he gave into those desires the very first day he met her. Why would it be any different now?
Georgia gathered her purse and turned off her computer, turning to him with a bright smile. “Ready, buddy?”
He wilted on the inside. That was the last thing he wanted to hear her call him.
“Don’t you mean ‘boss’?” He arched a brow, flipping off the lights in their area before following her down the hallway.
“We’re buddies, too.” She pushed the elevator button, hip jutting out to one side as she waited. “Don’t you think?”
He cleared his throat, keeping his gaze on the ground. She was baiting him—had to be. “Whatever suits you.”
She huffed a little, turning to the elevator door. “Fine. We’re buddies and you can’t do anything about it.”
He laughed. “Don’t be so sure.”
“What?” She cast a suspicious look at him. The doors slid open and they stepped inside. Words tumbled around inside his head as the elevator closed, bathing them in silence. He pushed the ground floor button.
“You know what I’m saying.” He cocked a grin. “If I want, I can make us more than buddies in a second.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Niccolo…” Her voice held a warning note.
“You’re right though. We’re better suited to buddies.” He over-accentuated the word, leaning against the elevator wall. He looked her up and down, unable to keep the provocative glances under wraps.
She sighed tersely. “Do you really want to cause a scandal right here in the elevator? Because that’s what you told me you had to avoid…remember?”
Her words cut through him like an axe. He stiffened. “There’s no scandal at all. Just a little bit of friendly conversation. Unless that’s not allowed with buddies.”
She glowered a moment, crossing her arms over her chest. “God, you’re annoying.”
A grin spread across his face. Somehow, that was a victory. “You can’t say that to your boss.”
“I can say it to my buddy, though.”
Niccolo smirked. “Fine. Truce?” He held out his hand, urging her to shake it. She did, and he brought her hand up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Her mouth parted as she watched, and then he lowered her hand slowly, fingertips grazing over the side of her arm.
“Don’t you even start this sensual shit,” she said, voice low. “Because then we will cause a scandal.”
Niccolo dropped his briefcase and grabbed her by the waist, cinching her tight against him. They only had a few more seconds together because the elevator had reached the ground floor.
“No scandals here,” he whispered. Every cell in his body sighed with relief having her pressed up against him. Two weeks without touching her, or bathing in her scent, was far too long. “Just saying goodbye for the weekend.”
She whimpered, letting her head loll to the side. “You don’t say goodbye like this to anyone else in the office.”
He chuckled as the elevator shuddered to a stop at the ground floor. He stepped away from her as it dinged and the doors swept open. He picked up his briefcase, motioning for her to lead the way. She looked disjointed and hazy, leading the way with unsure steps.
They walked quietly through the foyer of the building, quiet steps scuffing around them as other workers left for the day, a steady stream heading for the main doors. Niccolo paused before they went outside, grabbing at her wrist.
“Do you want to come for dinner?”
It popped out of his lips unbidden, like a cat leaping out of a window, stealthy and quick. He swallowed hard, watching confusion streak her face.
She gnawed at the inside of her lip, quiet for so long that he feared he hadn’t even asked the question. Just as he thought to repeat it, she answered.
“I have to go.” She shook her head a little, tearing her wrist out of his grip. She pushed through the doors and hurried out onto the sidewalk, swallowed up into the stream of pedestrians before he could even call her name or ask her to wait.
He stared through the smudged front doors, waiting for a sign from her, maybe a surprise return or change of heart.
You should be relieved. You don’t need to hook up with your assistant, she did what you should have done.
Niccolo watched the pedestrians beyond for just one hopeful glimpse of Georgia, leaning against the doorframe, more wounded than relieved.
***
Georgia awoke with a start the next morning, swallowing a sick taste in her mouth. She groaned and rolled onto her side, reaching for a cool pillow to hug to her chest. Sunlight streamed in through dark pink curtains, falling in shifty patterns on her bedspread.
She was awake far too early—a perfunctory peek at her clock told her it was just after eight a.m.—and for no good reason. This was her day off, the sacred Saturday, except even in her personal time, Niccolo invaded her thoughts.
She sighed, eyes drifting open and shut as she tried to recall the dream that startled her awake. It had something to do with him, but they were somewhere else. Someplace foreign. She squinted at the ceiling, struggling to grasp fragments of the rapidly dissipating dream. They’d traveled there together…like a couple. All that remained was the sensation of happiness; that wherever they’d been, and for whatever reason, it was good. They were good.
She pouted and squeezed the pillow tighter against her chest, wincing a little as her breasts protested the pressure. Her boobs sure had been sensitive lately, which was an anomaly for her pre-menstrual symptoms. But surely she’d be starting soon. It had been…
Georgia yawned, trying to think of when her last period was. It had come at night, right before some event…she yawned a second time, tears pricking her eyes. Already this felt like a day to not get out of bed. Nausea made bold strides through her belly, prompting her to think back on how m
uch wine she’d had the night before. Barely any at all, even though she’d bought a whole bottle for herself. Part of her own personal ‘Netflix & Chill’ plan that seemed like a great idea after Niccolo’s inglorious proposition after work.
Except all she’d done was Netflixed and Wished She Had Said Yes to Niccolo.
She couldn’t make it easy on him—that was the crux of the matter. She flopped onto her other side, bunching her pillow beneath her head. He was her boss, and her source of income, and her gateway to the prestigious award. If he wanted to come on to her, it had to be all or nothing. Something to lose her job or the award over, like running off into the sunset with him, or having his twins or something. Not just because he was horny on the weekend, or hard up for a lay.
Which, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t sure Niccolo propositioned her for either of those reasons, but it was possible. And she wouldn’t be a quick office lay, even if he was the sexiest forty-year-old she’d ever seen.
She’d been a quick office lay twice, which was two times too many.
Georgia let her eyes flutter shut, somewhat sated by the resolve. But then the period issue crept back in, and her eyes shot open. When was your last period?
The event with her friend: it started then. She’d been caught at the playhouse without a tampon, since it had arrived early, so she’d stuffed toilet paper in her underwear and suffered through the first act until she was able to corner a stranger for a spare pad. And that play had been…
She did the math in her head. Almost six weeks ago.
Georgia bolted upright in bed, panic streaking through her. That couldn’t be right. She scrambled out of bed, hurrying over to her calendar, flipping to the month before. There it was, the little red dot that denoted the first day of her period, right at the start of the month. She counted the weeks until current day, and then counted them again, and then again.
Five and a half weeks since her last period.
She was late.
The news dribbled through her, like a curious rivulet of water seeking the lowest ground. It pooled at her core, heavy and foreign. A hand drifted to her low belly while questions sparked and fizzled inside her head.