I scanned him up and down. His suit was at least one size too big, and it looked too cheap to be sold at Wal-Mart. His black hair was too long, and part of it spilled onto his forehead. And God, deliver me, that tie—it had light blue clouds on it—which didn’t match his navy-blue pants.
My eyes actually gagged a little.
I cleared my throat again, this time with a theatrical amount of flair. He stopped in the middle of a turn and smiled at me.
Waving a drumstick in the air, he yelled, “Hold on! This is my favorite part!”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I sighed and waited for him to play air violin and tried not to roll my eyes again.
When the song ended, Erik threw his hands up in the air. “God! I love that song!”
He shuffled to the record player and turned it off before spinning around again. “Aria!” With a grin, he waved me toward two leather chairs that sat in front of his desk. They happened to have boxes full of books with random papers sticking out.
“Oh, yeah. That’s my bad.” He rushed forward and grabbed the box in the chair on the left and tossed it to the floor. It knocked over, and several file folders spilled out. “All right! Have a—hey, you didn’t happen to bring coffee, did you?” He flashed a smile, which was his only redeeming quality, and scratched the top of his head with a drumstick before he dropped them on his desk.
I sighed. “Did you want some coffee, Mr. Ross?”
He waved me off. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Erik?” He winked in such a way that for a moment, I thought his eyelid was having a seizure.
I rubbed my lips together and tried to remain calm. “Sorry, Erik. Did you want some coffee?”
He waved me off. “Only if you were going to get some.” With another grin, he sat down in his office chair and plopped his feet on the table. He was wearing sneakers. Not to mention, his pants were too short.
I sighed again. “I’ll be right back.”
“Ah-ha! You’re the best!”
I grumbled something on my way back out the door. At least the coffee cart girl was still there. Annoyed with Erik, I snapped my order at her, and then paid for his coffee out of my own pocket, as usual. Lemon, the hippy chick that was always trying to get everyone to switch to green tea, managed to keep her upbeat demeanor through all my grumbling. I was so annoyed I snatched the coffee cup out of her hands before she put the lid on, and splashed the hot beverage all over myself.
“God!” I stomped my feet into the carpet. “Damn it!”
Half the office darted a gaze in my direction. Lemon cleared her throat and then held the lid out to me. I smiled, waved my hand in the air to cool it, took the lid, and placed it carefully on the cup.
With a smile, I lifted the cup in her direction. “Thank you.”
She nodded and twirled the purple ends of her pigtails. “Namaste!”
I paused in the middle of turning back around, pursed my lips, and managed not to respond. Holding my head up, I marched back into Erik’s office. This time, there was no music playing, but he was twirling one of his drumsticks on the edge of his finger—once again reminding me of a teenage boy. With his free hand, he was thumbing through some reading. I narrowed my eyes, went to his side, and held the coffee out to him.
He pressed his full lips together and then held up his free finger.
I almost laughed, but again, managed to control myself. It was sad, but I needed this job, and as long as I didn’t dwell on the fact that I could be doing it just as well from my couch in yoga pants, it was tolerable.
My foot began to tap against the floor almost against my will. It felt like several minutes before he finally looked up.
“Ah, there you are.” He reached up, took the coffee from my hand, and then leaned back. Taking in a long sip, he gestured for me to take a seat.
With a sigh, I sat down.
“Mm,” he said, placing his cup on top of a stack of magazines at the corner of his desk. “God, that is good.”
My smile was tight as I folded my hands in my lap. “You wanted to see me, Mr.—Erik?”
“Yes.” He reached for his coffee, and then took another long sip.
If I were being honest with myself, I wanted to reach out and shake him. I curled my hands into tighter fists and waited for him to get on with it. He adjusted his large framed glasses on his nose, and then stared down them at me.
“So, Aria. Our big-time sex columnist.” With a smile, he sat up straighter in his seat. He swatted at the paper in his hand with his drumstick, and then said, “I see you didn’t base your article on my list of suggested topics.”
I smiled back. “Well, I thought it was just a suggested list of topics.”
He nodded, and then his gaze swept back to the paper, which I was now certain was my unpublished article. “The Selfishness of Men and the Rise of Sex Toys.” His grin widened. “I read the whole thing. It’s neat.”
I swallowed my natural response, but couldn’t stop my frown. “Let me guess, you’re not going to publish it?”
He tilted his head. “So, you didn’t like the suggestion about ‘Ten Ways To Please Your Guy?’”
I just stared at him, imagining all the ways I could remove his head from his body. He’d just run through the last stores of my patience. “Are you going to publish it or not?”
Taking his feet off his desk, he sat up straighter, and placed my article between us on his desk. “You know, I’ve always felt like you had a secret.” His pale blue eyes stared into me, which made me feel even more annoyed. “But you know me, I found it.” He tossed his arms in the air. “I figured it all out.”
There was an awkward beat of silence, and he gave me one of those really annoying looks people give you when they want you to ask a follow-up question such as: “Oh, really?” Or, in this case, “What did you figure out?” I crossed one leg over the other and waited.
His mouth opened and closed, and I thought it was a shame that such a full mouth should be wasted on such a simple man. Finally, he gave me an overdramatic pout and turned his monitor so that it was facing me. I blinked at him several times before switching my gaze to the screen.
It was me. Well, a much younger me. I was on a stage with one hand over my chest and the other hand extended to the audience.
My eyes narrowed. “Where did you find that?”
Without answering, he almost giggled, and then clicked the play button with his mouse.
Nothing happened.
“Oh.” He snorted. “My bad.” He turned his speakers all the way up, and then my voice filled his office. “Ah, yes! Sing it, girl!” He fell back into his chair with both hands over his heart.
I narrowed my eyes as the lyrics from “On My Own” from Les Miserables filled my ears. He lifted his drumsticks and swept them through the air. His eyes were filled with something that annoyed me. Just before the climax of the song, something dark and angry took hold of my muscles. I stood, snatched his speakers off his desk, and snapped them off.
He gazed up at me with wide, childlike eyes.
I slammed the speakers back on the desk. “Mr. Ross! I really don’t think this is appropriate.”
His mouth opened and shut a few times.
I jerked my hand toward his screen. “Where did you even find this video?”
Again, his mouth gaped. Only this time, it didn’t close.
With a sigh, I backed away from him and crossed my arms over my chest. “Now, can we please talk about my article so I can get back to work?” I tried to keep the contempt out of my voice, but from the expression on his face, I knew I’d been unsuccessful.
For a moment, something like sternness passed across his face. But it was gone so quickly I didn’t know if I’d imagined it or not. Then, he leaned forward, tapped his fingers on his desk a few times, and cleared his throat. “Well, your mother actually sent me the video…”
I scoffed. “Of course she did.”
“And as for your article… What are you doin
g tonight?”
I lifted my eyebrows. “What?”
He smiled, and for some reason, this time, it was disarming. “I said, what are you doing tonight?”
Shaking my head, I stared at him in confusion. “Why?”
He stood, walked around his desk, and then perched himself on the edge of it, right in front of me. “Part of your job description is research, yes?”
I narrowed my eyes. “That article was very well researched.”
He smiled. “I know. I hired one of the best fact checkers in the Huntsville area.” With an even wider grin, he added, “But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He pointed at me. “I want your help researching this building. Did you know that before it was turned into office space, it was an old theater?” He glanced at his Pokémon watch—and yes, it was an actual Pokémon watch. “I want to look more closely at the legends that the space is haunted. So, why don’t you meet me downstairs, around seven?”
Before I could stop myself, I snorted.
His eyes widened.
“What? Are you serious?”
He blinked at me.
“I’m busy tonight,” I said, trying not to glare.
He nodded. “Well, when do you think you can find some time?”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Because, if you could find the time… Tonight, which is best for me. I’d publish your article in the morning.”
I laughed. “Wait, are you telling me I have to do this or else you won’t publish my article?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. No, I could never say that.” He stared at me through several beats of silence.
Finally, I said, “You can’t be serious.”
He kept staring.
I snorted. “No. No way!”
He shrugged and stood up straight from his perch on the desk. “Suit yourself, Aria.” He walked behind his desk and sat down. Glancing up at me, he said, “That’ll be all.”
I opened my mouth, but rage gripped my tongue, and all the words I wanted to spew all over him wouldn’t come out. With a laugh, I stomped out and began pacing outside of his office in an angry blur. This had to be some kind of blackmail. Worse, if that damned post didn’t run, I wouldn’t get paid, and I wasn’t exactly swimming in riches. After several minutes, I huffed and pushed his door back open.
“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll meet you here at seven.”
2
Erik
As soon as she stormed out of my office for the second time, I swallowed a laugh, leaned back in my chair, and hit the play button with my mouse. I closed my eyes and let her singing fill the room.
Damn, what a voice!
The first thing I noticed about Aria was that fucking skin. It was dark as jet and as smooth as the night sky. She looked like she was lit from within. The second thing I noticed about her was that she didn’t like me much. Okay, she fucking hated me, and from some place at the fifth grade level that we never quite leave behind, that made me fascinated.
I could almost hear her bitching to Garret—the closet gay who I caught checking out my dick on an almost daily basis in the men’s room—about my forcing her to work with me that night. Oh, she had to be pissed. I laughed and pressed replay on the video her mother had sent me.
Oh, yes. I could get almost anything I wanted out of mothers. Nothing inappropriate. After I found out Aria was a music major in college, I sent her mother a batch of my home-baked cookies, and within a half hour, I had this footage of her and that incredible voice.
God, I wanted to make her sing for me. She hit a note that made my blood shiver, and I took in her face on the computer monitor. It wasn’t the refined features or the wild, curly hair that made my heart hitch—it was the look in her eyes. That was the kind of joy you just couldn’t fake. It made me want to be around her… And inside her.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts before I wound up with a problem I didn’t need to take care of at work. I forced myself to conjure an image of the disgust on her face from just a few moments ago. Oh, and the matter of her not respecting me or anything I stood for.
It helped, but not much. Lucky for me, there was a loud bang on my door.
I glanced over and took in Trudy, the closest thing I had to an assistant, through the spotted glass. With a smile, I waved her in. Leaning forward on her cane, she hobbled into my office. The smile dropped from my face, and I started to get up to lead her to a chair but managed to keep myself seated.
Trying to help Trudy do anything was dangerous. The last time I helped her with a door, she banged that metal cane right into my knee. But she was the best, and that was why she was probably paid more than any assistant in the country.
“Sir,” she said, standing in the middle of the room and sliding her distasteful gaze across my mess. “You have a package. I’d suggest signing for it in the conference room.”
I grinned at her and stood up. “Sounds good.”
She sighed. “I really wish you’d let me hire someone to…organize your office.”
I splayed out my hands. “You don’t want to mess with the magic, darlin’—” She shot me a hard gaze, and I backpedaled. “I mean, Mrs. Banks.”
She lifted her gray eyebrows and began to turn around. “Mm-hm.” On her way out the door, she mumbled a string of unflattering words that left me smiling.
I went to the corner of my room and gazed into the full length mirror. Scanning myself up and down, I adjusted my tie and then strolled through the buzzing office toward the conference room.
My gaze found Aria in a corner. Her expression was alive with annoyance, and I stopped, narrowly missing running into Kimmie, one of my new hires. I spared her a smile, and she ducked away, apologizing to me under her breath. When I peered back up, Aria was shooting me a look that oozed venom, while Garret was staring at me and shaking his head.
Oh, I could only imagine the choice words she was using to describe me at that moment. I laughed to myself, turned the corner, and ducked into the conference room. I found Stacy, a huge black dude with a shiny bald head decked out in a pinstripe suit that suggested he was a CEO, rather than a delivery man.
He was at the other end of the oval conference table laying out two packages on the tabletop as if they were delicate Faberge eggs. I closed the door behind me, and he peered up.
“What’s up man?” I held my hand out as I approached him.
“Mm.” He stared at my hand, and then looked me up and down with such distaste I couldn’t help but laugh. “Erik,” he finally said in a delicate voice that didn’t go with his build. He took my hand and shook it, and I grinned.
“How’s it going?” I asked, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down.
He was still regarding my suit with the kind of horror one reserves for killer sharks and boogeymen. “Day was going fine until I had to come up in here and see another one of these damn suits you insist on wearing.” He rolled his eyes and gestured to the boxes. “Can we get this over with? So I can spend the rest of the day in mourning?”
I barked out a laugh. “Ah, Stacy When are you going to come write for me?”
He sucked on his teeth, planted a hand on his hip, and then pointed at me. “You know, my significant other swore you were gay when I started working for you. Then I sent him a pic of that damn suit. Looking like a beat-down canary.” He pulled a letter opener out of his inside pocket and slit the brown paper away from the square-shaped box on the table. “That ended that theory.”
“Just because I’m not the sharpest dresser doesn’t mean I’m not gay.”
He gave me a look. “Baby, the only reason you know so many gay men is because of your love of musical theater.” He dropped the letter opener on the table and lifted the white lid on the box. He stared at what was inside, and then slowly turned his gaze onto me. “Huh. What’s this about?” He lifted a porcelain mask overlaid with a thin layer of leather. It was meant to cover half the face.
&
nbsp; I grinned and stood up. “What kind of gay man doesn’t recognize an iconic replica?”
He twisted his lips up into an amused grin as he handed the mask over. “Oh, I recognize it. I’m just trying to figure out what you planning on doing with it.”
I winked and turned the mask over in my hands. “Well, you know me and the games I like to play.”
“Mm.” He fanned himself with his hand. “If I wasn’t spoken for.”
I laughed. “Even in this suit?”
He picked the letter opener back up and went to work on the other box. “Good point. Not even that sexy dimple can redeem a grown man with money that still can’t manage to find a suit in his size.”
Placing the mask gently back into the box, I grinned. “Man, it must be hard being gay. All these impossible standards.”
He snorted. “That’s what—”
I held up my hand. “Please, don’t finish that sentence.”
He grinned. “Fair enough.” He stared down into the other box and whistled. “It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
With a laugh, I went over to stare down at the contents of the package with him. “So, my taste in women’s attire is better than my taste in suits?”
He placed a hand over his chest. “Maybe there’s some hope for you in drag.”
I grinned and ran my fingertips across the silky surface of the size ten, silk evening gown trimmed in dark lace. “Nah, I’d rather see it on someone else.” And off someone else.
He sighed. “I’d rather see it on me.”
I winked at him and closed the box. Reaching into my pocket, I started to count out a few hundreds. He stared at my palm eagerly, and I stopped counting and tilted my head to the side. “What are you doing the rest of the day?”
He stared at the wad of cash and lifted an eyebrow.
“If you’re willing to run a few more errands for me, I’d obviously pay what you’re worth.” I started counting out hundreds again.
When I stopped at the end of eight, he rubbed his thumb against his fingers, so I kept going. When I was almost at fifteen hundred, he batted his eyelashes and nodded.
Seduction in a Suit: An Office Romance Collection Page 128