by Gray, A L
Chapter Seven
I STORM OUT OF my office after Jezebel leaves. I'm reeling and I'm ready with confidence and a clear agenda - but as I edge closer to the lion's den, my anxiety levels hit an all new high. Jesus, I'm baking up big time! I feel my cheeks with both sides of my hand. I definitely feel hotter than normal - bloody hell! Can I really do this? You have gone too far to renege now! Chicken Shit!
Once I reach his office, I stare at the huge white door. My mind blanks - I'm so flipping hot that I must be as red as he would like my behind to be! Ugh! I try my very best to gather myself, and although I feel like I have been struck down with the flu, I manage to pull myself together.
I aim to knock on his office door but opt for the element of surprise - maybe if I catch him off guard, it will give me the upper hand. I walk in with my head held high but it's soon hanging low as I register five men seated and having coffee with Mr. Darks.
Shit, he isn’t alone! Now what do I do? Back up, back up!
“Sorry Mr. Darks, I assumed you would be alone.”
His eyebrows shoot up in amusement, as do the other gentlemen’s.
“Your apology is not necessary - I can have my office empty in no time at all if you wish Miss Gooden?” He encourages.
I try to speak but not before I flush puce once more. How the hell can he speak so provocatively in front of his clients?
“No, please, not on my account. I will see you once you are finished.”
I turn to leave, quicker than usual - if he comes after me, I'm insuring I have a head start! I steal a glance down the lobby from behind me, wondering if he's following me - thankfully he isn't, and I practically run back to the safety of my office. Safety is an overstatement. He fucking owns it!
I slowly slip into the comfort of my seat and breathe a huge *sigh* of relief, thankful for the fact that, in the end, I didn't have to confront him. I mean really, what the hell came over me? I should have known I would blank in his presence. I feel defeated as I open the folder to my first case on the job; indefinitely knowing there is not much I can do about Mr. Darks and his obscene contracts. My brain freezes as I open the folder - Timothy Allen, accused of ‘Marital Rape’. I swear the first floor of this building must hear my chin hit the desk as I register this case. My memory serves me right.
'What was your first year subject?' Mr. Darks asked.
'Marital Rape Sir.' I replied.
Is this a big joke to him?
My office phone rings making me jump and I drop the damn folder on the floor.
"For God sake!" I curse.
I put the phone to my ear but I don't greet the caller - I'm paranoid that it could be Mr. Darks.
“Miss Gooden, Mr. Allen would like to book an appointment with you for tomorrow.”
Thank God it's only Jezebel.
“Please book him in for one-thirty.”
"Okay, I will. Also Miss Gooden, you have a parcel."
"A parcel? Who is it from?"
"It doesn't say."
"Could you please bring it in?"
“I will shortly Miss Gooden.” She replies and hangs up.
I get up out of my seat and scoop up all the papers. I spend over forty-five minutes sorting the damn structure. Once everything is in order, I quickly glance over the paperwork before I start, mentally preparing myself for what is to come. My heart sinks when I read that Mr. Allen is accused of raping his wife, six times in one night. Jesus Christ. I shake my head wondering why Mr. Darks gave me this case - if he gave it to me as a gesture that he has taken note of my studies, it's in poor taste.
I glance at my watch and see it's lunch time - should I go down to the cafeteria and eat, or stay here? Hmmm, I'll eat here - I have apples in my briefcase - hopefully I can focus better and get more work done at the same time if I stay in my office.
Throughout the rest of the day I try to focus and work, but I'm shamefully distracted, looking between the papers and my office window - I find myself wondering why Mr. Darks has not come to see me yet? Maybe he's playing hard to get? I scoff at the thought - I invented that game! Oh get a grip Anile! I admonish, knowing that my two minds are counteracting one another. The last time I saw that Bastard, he was charging into my apartment - I should have kicked him and his job to the curb! But nooo, I'm sitting in one of his offices not that bloody far from him like a weak miserable son of a bitch! What the hell is wrong with me? Why can't I just stand up to him without falling apart? I seriously need to grow some balls if I have any chances of surviving here. Once I have finished giving myself a good talking to, I decide to finish up before I'm stuck here all night long.
My office door opens to Jezebel holding a bright red box. It's the size of a lamp table. What on earth is that? She places it in the centre of my office.
"Thank you Jezebel."
"No problem Miss Gooden."
She leaves, but not before I'm on my feet. I gently untie the beautiful red bow that dresses the electric red tissue paper. I rip the paper off because I'm no longer able to contain my curiosity. I'm utterly flabbergasted to find a huge wooden horse, hand crafted so perfectly from old dark wood. What the fuck is this?
I walk around the wooden horse for about ten minutes, truly mystified. This has to be Mr. Darks. I cannot help myself. I text him immediately.
To: Unknown
Thank you for the gift. It's lovely.
His reply is instant. I don't even stress about the reply because I am almost one-hundred percent sure it's from him.
From: Unknown
I have not sent you a gift. What is it? Was it sent to your office?
Okay, now I'm curious, and confused. If it wasn't him then who the hell was it? I don't text him back, I try to put the horse out of my mind. I get back to work.
I have read half way through Mr. Allen’s case - there is so much information that even I struggle to keep up. It's now nearly six-thirty - the day has flown by. I'm ready for home. I will take the case papers with me and read the rest in bed. I bend under my desk to grab my briefcase and I’m alarmed by the deep voice that fills my office.
“Best view in the building.”
“Mr. Darks.” I reply shocked. I bang my head on my desk rushing to get up.
“Shit!” I curse.
He rushes over to me with a worrying expression ruining his beautiful face. He takes me by my arms to steady me, holding me tighter than necessary.
“Are you okay Anile?”
Fuck he cannot touch me! I'm already suffering with Darks flu as it is. What's he trying to do - kill me?
“Yes, I'm fine.”
I snatch my arms back, probably looking annoyed - I'm not though, I just cannot control myself when he touches me. My natural thermostat fiddles out!
“You shouldn’t just barge into people's offices Mr. Darks."
“Maybe you should practice what you preach, Miss Gooden.” He jokes. Maybe you should stop being such a Bastard!
“What do you want?”
“You wanted me, you barged into my office.” He reiterates and I lose focus.
“Oh, yes, um. To be honest, I cannot remember what I wanted.” I answer stupidly.
“Maybe my presence will slowly refresh your memory.”
“Eh, I doubt that.”
We stand awkwardly - well, I stand awkwardly, not him - and we gaze at one another. Fuck he looks good - like always - he's wearing a raven black suit. The expensive material looks shiny and soft. He has matched it with a blood red tie. I know the colour is to ooze power. I wonder if he has worn black as a gesture to my wearing black for one week? I realize I'm gawping as I eye him up and down. Once I reach his face and register a glimmer of a smile, I immediately lower my head, feeling embarrassed and worried that he can see I fancy him.
"Is that the gift?"
"Sorry?" What is he talking about?
"The horse." He points to the wooden horse.
"Oh, yes. Sorry, I have no idea why I thought you sent it."
He sta
res passively at the horse. His eyebrows are creased. His mouth is set in a hard line. For some reason I sense anger from him.
"Are you okay, Mr. Darks?"
"Hmmm, yes. Have you ever heard of the old saying - never accept a gift from a Greek?"
"Um, no. Why?" Okay, now he has my full attention.
“Do you like your office Anile?” He changes direction as he slowly starts to pace inside my safety zone, penetrating my mind as he eyes me shrewdly.
"Sir, what do you mean by that old quote?"
"Answer the question Anile."
Bastard!
“Eh, yes I do, but I don’t like the floor. White granite would suit me nicely but this will do - the lack of privacy is also a little much.” I joke.
He walks past me - just inches away from my body. He sits his perfectly gorgeous backside on my desk, never breaking eye contact with me. He opens the left draw to my desk, revealing a remote control. He presses a button and all the office windows turn frosted silver. He reveals a back breaking smile, exhilarated that he has pleased me. I swallow hard, knowing he's trying to satisfy me, and also knowing we are now in complete privacy, double crap! Suddenly, he strikes me down further - quiet gentle music fills the room, sweetly singing, Otis Redding - These Arms Of Mine. I shake my head, giving him a firm, 'REALLY', expression. This is so bloody cheesy, but why the hell do I like it?
“Better?” He asks, wearing a glaring smile - he knows exactly what he's doing.
“Better." I repeat motionless.
I'm not acknowledging the music though, if he only knew what Otis does to me, it would become his party trick. I cannot stay here with him, I'm worried I will do something I will live to regret.
"I have to go.” I urge. I try to step forward, but he holds his hand out firmly in front of me, stopping me from taking another step. I stop dead before he physically touches me. I look down at his hand trying to tell him to fucking move it in unspoken words but I become spellbound. Wow, his nails are in better condition than mine! His fingers are so long, his nails are so perfect! And his hands are huge! I wonder if that old saying is true? 'big hands, big cock'. Hmmm, it probably is - he must have the full package, right?
“Well?” He asks as he retracts his hand, placing it neatly on his lap. He entwines his fingers together. Fuck, what did he say? I honestly need to get a grip, I'm a deafening mess around him, constantly missing what he says!
“You have me at a loss Mr. Darks.”
“Your contract.”
“Oh, yes. That's why I want you, I mean, wanted you.”
Shit, did I say that! I stare up at him dumbstruck, meeting his eyes - they are alight with amusement.
“You want me? That is very unexpected, Miss Gooden."
My mouth is agape but I have no words.
"Your contract will do for now - we can deal with our personal issues later." He smiles.
OUR PERSONAL ISSUES! Wow! His words cause me to feel more Darks flu symptoms - tingles, blurred vision, dizziness, breathlessness - the list is endless! Get a grip before you faint Gooden! And close your damn mouth, you are not catching flies!
“Why can’t I have my own lawyer check over the contracts and that NDA?”
Yes, here we go - now I have found my balls! Maybe if I keep this about work and not his bizarre behaviour, I will have a chance of staying in control.
“What do you want to know? I will tell you anything, and I will tell it honestly.” He says.
“Yeah right!” I scoff.
“Anile, what do you want to know? You should trust me and my opinion. I am one of the best lawyers in the country.”
I want to laugh out loud - I hope he's ready for this, I have a damn list!
“I want to know why you so thoroughly checked into my background; I want to know what that damn NDA is all about; and I want you to stay a safe distance from me!” I snap overly annoyed.
“Anile.” He sighs as he rubs his forehead. “I have not mentioned Saturday. I have given you a promotion because I trust your character, and I trust you. I have not once come into your office - in fact, you penetrated my space, I have tried to keep a safe distance from you. I think all this over exaggeration is in your head.” He answers with raised eyebrows, looking at me with such an innocent expression.
I take considerable notice to what he has said. I'm just not sure if I can trust him, not after what he did - coming to my apartment like that. I find him so frustrating. His gorgeousness and his alluring words compel me to almost do things I would not normally do. But maybe he's right. Maybe this is all me. Maybe his actions are what normal people do when they like someone - become obsessed and do whatever it takes to win them over. I know he likes me, he told me he does - and I know I like him, who wouldn't? I just have to stop over analysing everything he does.
"Anile, I have to put it out there - why wear white now?” He says smiling.
I look at his warm expression, knowing how I feel about him - the gut wrenching emotion suddenly hits me like a ton of bricks as I force my negative thoughts away. I let go of everything I mentally believe, I let go of my own tension.
I sit next to him on the desk, gently seating myself beside him. His hand is right next to mine. Not only can I see it, I strangely feel it. He's holding the desk with too much effort, just like I am. I smile to myself knowing I'm holding the desk in a tight grip because I'm nervous, why is he? Surely this powerful man isn't nervous in my company? I look at him, smiling like an idiot, knowing I'm going to try and see past everything I sense from him.
“When I dressed this morning, I didn't even realize I dressed myself in white.” I joke.
He leans closer to me. His scent makes me feel heady.
“Well, you look lovely in anything you wear.” He whispers into my ear.
I can feel his warm breath on my neck. I unexpectedly touch my neck where his breath caressed me. My hand trembles.
I eventually gather myself. I look up at him rolling my eyes.
"Just so you know, I'm too smart to be seduced by you.” I joke. I squint my eyes at him, forcing a firm expression. He leans his head to the side once more, so he can see me fully - his back a little hunched, his eyes low and glazed.
“That's why I like you.” He whispers.
I blush, shaking my head - no matter how many times he tells me he likes me, the affect is always the same - flutters endlessly dancing around my tummy.
"Did you change your bizarre clothes rule because of me?" I ask, looking right at him.
"Of course, why else?"
Wow, I was not expecting that - such a simple answer but it means so much more. I gaze at him, for more than a few seconds, wondering how things between us are going to pan out - but I know the only way to really find out is to let the chips fall where they may.
"If I sign the contracts and work hard, do you promise not to stalk me again?"
"Stalk you!" He laughs looking shocked.
"Yes, you know, when an almost stranger orders you to lavish parties and then shows up at your apartment trying to force a romantic situation." I joke.
"Ahhh, yes. I think I know what you mean. I will have to look it up later." He smiles.
"Well, it means this."
I jump off of my desk and motion my hand for him to scoot along so I can Google the definition. He doesn't move, he shakes his head - firmly telling me 'no' while smiling. I'm forced to lean over his long legs to type on my keyboard. While typing, I sneakily steal a sniff of his gorgeous spicy scent - this heady intoxication never gets old. I love how he smells. I wonder if he would linger on my naked skin if he were to touch me?
"Well?" He says, forcing me back from my delicious daydream.
I quickly glance back at the screen, realizing I was staring at his legs - damn it!
"Stalking is unwanted or obsessive attention by an individual or group toward another person. Stalking behaviour is related to harassment and intimidation and may include following the victim in person or monitoring them."
"So my behaviour is unwanted?"
Do I like his attention? Hmmm, when he's nice like this I do, but not when he goes into alpha overdrive - trying to demand everything he desires.
"Answer the question, Mr. Darks." I repeat his own line.
"I cannot promise anything like that when it comes to you, Anile." He says serious.
"You do know stalking is illegal?" I joke.
"Call the Police, I will confess. I'm guilty for wanting you so badly." He gestures with his hand placed flat against his heart.
Oh my!
My phone alarm suddenly interrupts us singing, Brittany Spears, Oops I did It Again. Reminding me that my mother will be calling tonight at eight. I flush so damn red that you wouldn't see me between tomatoes, embarrassed by my choice of music and his confession.
"Nice ring tone." He jokes as he gently takes me by my waist, forcing me to a standing position. I didn't realize I was still leaning over his legs towards the computer. His hands are so large, they almost swallow up my waist. I move back from him, unexpectedly shuddering at the contact - he literally sends strange vibes throughout my body.
"Are you okay?" He whispers as he stands tall next to me, hunching his head to look down into my eyes at my reaction - I think.
“I have to go home. It's getting late.”
“Can I offer you a ride?”
I raise my eyebrows, deliberately shooting him an expression of, uneasiness, desire, desperfuckinration!
“Please don't look at me like that Anile, you have no idea what it does to me. The underground is not safe at such an hour. I would feel a lot better if you would just accept a lift - I will not accompany you if it makes you feel better.”
"Don't you need your car?"
"Anile, your safety is more important than mine."
"No it isn't!"
"It is, Anile."
"No, it isn't. You cannot decide who is more important out of the two of us."
"Don't argue with me Anile, you will force me to do something that I do not think you are ready for."