by Paige North
Even now, as she relived it, Ivy felt so many competing emotions that she could hardly stand it.
The doors swished open and she got into the elevator. Before they closed, she had the half-hearted thought that maybe Cullen would appear and tell her to stop. He’d invite her back into his office and they could resume their lesson.
But then the doors slid closed and the elevator descended, causing her stomach to do that fateful little drop.
The tears started to fall as she realized that somehow it had all gone wrong. Sometime between waking up this morning and right now, she’d made every mistake in the book.
What was I thinking? I’m no match for him.
I fell apart.
I fell apart and I’m still falling apart.
She got out of the elevator and tried to collect herself before she went back to the cubicles and resumed working.
Everyone around her was walking by, people in groups, discussing business, checking their phones, or just heading wherever they were headed. People had things to accomplish, and none of them saw her or cared what she was going through.
Somehow, everything was normal, but Ivy’s entire life had changed back there in Cullen Sharpe’s office.
Everything had changed. Her ass exposed to him. Her panties down.
I shouldn’t have run. I should’ve stayed.
Finally, she’d admitted the truth and that made it hurt all the more. She wasn’t so upset because Cullen Sharpe had spoken inappropriately to her, or touched her in an unwanted way. In fact, just the opposite was the case.
I wanted it so badly that I got afraid, I freaked out and ruined it.
That was what hurt so bad—knowing that she’d screwed up. And she could pretend that he was a bad guy and he’d taken advantage, but the truth was that she’d simply been too inexperienced to handle a man like him.
And even he had realized it by the end, which was presumably why he’d told her she’d made the right decision to leave.
Ivy sighed, letting the air out of her lungs, feeling her stomach relax as more tears flowed from her eyes and down her cheeks.
Composing herself a bit, she wiped the tears away, drying her face with an old napkin she found in her purse.
Just as she was contemplating a trip to the bathroom to clean up her makeup and make sure she didn’t look like a sad clown, a familiar person came striding towards her.
It was Lucas from her orientation group, and for a fraction of a second, she even wondered if the young man had purposely come looking for her. But she knew that was ridiculous.
Lucas waved as he approached her. “Hey,” he said, his expression changing from friendliness to concern as he got closer. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Totally.” She sniffed and hid the crumpled napkin in her palm.
“You seem like you’ve been crying.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, smiling. “What’s up? Having fun at good old Biomatrix Pharma?”
“Oh, it’s a regular party, here,” he said, rolling his eyes.
She had to give him credit for still being willing to joke around after the tongue lashing that Cullen Sharpe had given him in orientation.
“Well, on that note, I’ve been away from my desk way too long,” she sighed. “I should head back.”
“Sure,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.
She gave him one last smile as she started back towards the cubes.
“Hey, Ivy!” he called after her.
She turned around. “Yeah?”
“A bunch of us temps are going out to get a drink after work today. You want to come with?”
Ivy hesitated, but then brightened. A bit of alcohol might be the cure for her memories and regrets about what had happened in the CEO’s office. Something, anything, to numb her emotions sounded like just the thing right about now. “Sure,” she said, laughing. “Why not?”
“Exactly,” he said, giving her a double thumb’s up and making an exaggerated smile as he walked backwards away from her. “See you later, Ivy!”
She laughed again. “Okay, Lucas. See you later.”
She went back to her desk and decided that maybe she’d been wrong about Lucas. He wasn’t just pretending to be cool earlier—he really was a nice guy.
Maybe it was Cullen Sharpe that was the one pretending. He was afraid to be a normal person—he had to control every situation.
But she didn’t need Cullen Sharpe’s approval, she didn’t want to give into his demands, and she would do her very best to forget him.
The bar was only a couple of blocks from Biomatrix, and Ivy joined a group of about fifteen temps that walked over there directly after work.
It was interesting, she thought, how this quiet and seemingly fearful, insecure bunch of temp workers turned into laughing, joking, confident people the minute they left the office.
Lucas walked beside her as they made their way to The Wheel, a somewhat upscale bar that was already getting busy with the suit and tie crowd showing up for Happy Hour.
It was a party atmosphere from the get-go, and Ivy was only too happy to comply with the peer pressure and have a shot with the others.
“Here’s to hitting our fucking targets!” Lucas shouted, as he raised his glass in the air.
Ivy laughed and raised her glass, as the other fourteen or fifteen people in their group also toasted, shouting and laughing. And then everyone did shots, and Ivy felt the burning sweetness as the alcohol hit her system.
Instantly, much of the stress of the day seemed to fade.
“I want more,” she told Lucas. “Let’s do another!”
“Hell yeah,” he said. “I like your attitude, Spellman.”
There were calls for another round and another. Then the beer started flowing.
Ivy had never been much of a drinker, even in college when such things were considered part of the normal course of student activities. She’d been to perhaps five or six parties her entire four years, and she’d been lightly buzzed once or twice at most.
The truth was, she’d always gotten a little scared the moment she’d begun feeling the effects of the alcohol. That sensation of almost losing control, of feeling her inhibitions slip away, had always made her too unsettled and so she’d opted for more serene activities.
But tonight, she had no such reservations. Every sip of hard liquor and beer was another step closer to forgetting about him—putting him out of her mind and convincing herself that she didn’t care about what had happened between them.
Lucas was only too happy to oblige her interest in getting hammered, since he was doing the same.
So were most of the other temps, who’d all had similarly stressful and humiliating experiences, being worked hard and treated like crap at Biomatrix. Nobody was looking forward to more days like the one they’d just had—but the pay was too good and no one wanted to be fired, either.
At some point, the music started blasting, and people began dancing.
Ivy joined in, which was completely unlike her.
It was all in good fun and she was enjoying herself immensely. She continued to remind herself of how much fun she was having every time she thought about Cullen Sharpe and wondered what he’d think if he saw her right now.
You don’t care what he’d think. Remember?
Another drink and I’ll remember less and less.
“You’re not a bad dancer!” Lucas shouted over the music, as Ivy twirled, her arms in the air.
“Thanks,” she said, shaking her hips to the beat.
She noticed that there were about five men over by the bar, their ties loose, beers in hand, watching her like hawks…Or perhaps vultures.
Probably just your imagination, she told herself. But it felt nice to be watched, if only to soothe her sore ego. Beer in hand, she let go, dancing along with the other temps and some of the random patrons. She was spinning a little bit, dizzy from the booze and the dancing and the release of everything that
she’d been through today.
I’m drunk. Not buzzed. Officially drunk.
Her eyes had been closed and now she felt someone pressing up against her from behind, grinding their hips against her. She spun around to find a total stranger staring back at her.
She recognized him, though. He’d been standing with that group of men over by the bar watching her.
“What’s your name?” he asked her.
She didn’t answer him. He wasn’t unattractive—about her height but bulky, like a jock or college athlete. And he had the cocky self-assuredness that she associated with that kind of guy. He was dressed in light green slacks, a white shirt rolled up to the elbows and a darker green tie, loosened, his collar popped.
“I’m not really in the mood,” she told him.
“Not in the mood for what, sweetie?” he said, trying to press closer to her once more.
“I’m just here with friends,” she said. Her limbs felt uncoordinated as she tried to move away from him. And her mouth wasn’t moving quite properly, nor were her thoughts as clear as she wanted them to be right now.
“I could be your friend,” the guy said, leaning in and grabbing her around the waist. “Just dance with me.”
“No,” she said.
Suddenly, Lucas was stepping in between them. “Everything all right over here?”
The guy gave Lucas a sidelong glance of annoyance. “She’s talking to me, buddy. She’s fine. Why don’t you go get me and the lady a drink?” He took out a billfold and peeled off a twenty.
“I don’t need another drink,” Ivy told him.
“Shit,” Lucas said, staring past them now. His eyes had gone wide with something resembling terror.
And then Ivy noticed that all of the temps were looking in the same direction, and all of them seemed similarly uneasy.
She turned towards the door and saw a sight that took her breath away with its unexpectedness.
Cullen Sharpe had just entered the bar. He was still as fearsome and foreboding as ever, even outside his kingdom. He was with two other men that she’d never seen before, but they also wore nice suits so she assumed they were from work.
“I can’t believe he’s here,” one of the female temps said nearby.
“He’s so fucking hot,” another girl replied.
“I’d totally fuck him,” one of the male temps said, making it clear which team he played for.
Some laughed nervously, but everyone was watching Cullen Sharpe.
Ivy felt a thrill of excitement upon seeing him there, but then quickly remembered she was trying to forget him.
Cullen surveyed the room as if he owned this place along with all of the people in it. His gaze landed on her and his eyes narrowed.
Ivy’s stomach did a double flip and then she shook her head, looking quickly away.
Fuck him, she thought. Maybe I will take this jerk up on his offer to dance with me.
She turned intentionally back to the dumb frat guy or whoever he was. “I’m Ivy,” she told him, smiling flirtatiously.
“I’m Hank,” the douche in the green tie said. His eyes stared down at her cleavage.
She took one of his hands and put it on her hip. He got the idea and did the same with the other hand, and then she spun around and let him grind on her from behind.
The music was thumping and she had her eyes closed.
I hope you’re watching me, Cullen Sharpe. I hope you’re watching and it’s making you crazy.
This caused her to smile, as the man behind her thrust his hips against her backside.
They danced like that for a time, and when she opened her eyes again, Cullen and his friends were gone. He wasn’t watching and he evidently didn’t care what she did.
That made the game a lot less interesting and her dance partner’s advances even less inviting than they’d been. Ivy realized she didn’t feel very well.
The room was spinning and her stomach felt like someone had put a brick in it.
“I don’t feel so well,” she muttered, trying to free herself from his clutches.
But Hank wasn’t too interested in how she felt, apparently. His left hand moved up to her breast and grabbed it blatantly as he hip thrust yet again into her behind.
Across the way, she heard and then saw his cronies at the bar howling with laughter, clapping and shouting encouragement.
“Hey,” she shouted, wrestling out of his grip. “What’s wrong with you?”
Hank’s bloodshot eyes stared unintelligently at her. “It’s pretty obvious you enjoyed what I was doing.” He grabbed for her hips again. “Come on, dance with me, bitch.”
“Bitch?” she shouted back at him. “Who do you think you are, asshole?”
Lucas moved in between them once more. “That’s enough, buddy. She doesn’t want to dance with you anymore.”
“And who are you? The fucking white knight?” Hank said, spittle flying from his mouth. “Why don’t you just fuck off,” he continued, pushing Lucas in the chest.
And then, before she knew what was happening, Lucas was surrounded by Hank’s bar buddies, who swarmed in. They started heckling Lucas and shoving him, and it was clear the young man was overmatched and scared now.
He spun one way and another to fend off his attackers.
At the same time, one of Hank’s other friends had now grabbed Ivy’s waist and was whispering in her ear. “You look so fucking sexy,” he said, his breath rancid and hot as he slathered her ear. “I couldn’t stop watching you all night.”
“Leave me alone!” she yelled.
But he wouldn’t, and the crowd around her was getting ugly. From the corner of her eye, she saw someone grabbing Lucas by his shirt and pulling him, ripping his collar. Another person clubbed Lucas beside his ear with their open hand.
People were pushing and shoving and yelling. A bottle smashed on the floor nearby.
For the first time, fear shot through the drunken haze in Ivy’s mind. She realized she could actually get hurt, as the man near her began groping her without fear of reprisal in the mayhem.
Just when she thought a forced kiss on her mouth was inevitable, a strong male form burst through the crowd, knocking people to the side like bowling pins.
Cullen Sharpe.
Cullen grabbed the drunken man, who’d been attempting to molest her, by his hair. “What the fuck?” the man screamed, his voice turning high pitched, like a young girl.
The furious CEO lifted his leg and kicked the man in his stomach, causing him to fly backwards and fall on the floor. Nearby, two of the guy’s friends converged on Cullen, shouting insults and swinging at him, trying to punch him in retaliation for what he’d done to their buddy.
Cullen ducked in order to avoid the blow, before punching one of them in the ribs. Then he pivoted and threw a straight punch that landed on the other attacker’s nose. The intended victim’s head snapped back and he also fell, looking dazed, his eyes rolling in his head like a cartoon character.
Ivy couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Not only was Cullen a tough character in the boardroom, he was even tougher and scarier in the bar.
Everything was happening so fast, as the drunken crowd gave Cullen Sharpe a wide berth now. He’d proven that he wasn’t averse to putting his fist and feet in direct and painful contact with anyone’s body or face that got in his way.
After eyeing the suspects in the crowd and ensuring they knew not to mess with him, Cullen grabbed Ivy by the arm firmly and whispered in her ear. “It’s not safe here. Come with me.” He began pulling her through the crowd.
Bouncers had finally arrived and were starting to gain control of the melee, but Cullen didn’t care. He was continuing to head toward the exit, his strong hand still firmly gripping Ivy’s bicep as he kept her close and walked fast.
She was still trying to wrap her mind around what had happened. One minute, she’d been drunk, admittedly, but dancing and having an okay time. The next, the place had turned into a battle zone, a
nd Cullen Sharpe had swooped in and rescued her.
She was relieved, excited, and angry all at once.
Mostly, she was drunk. But she didn’t want the CEO to think that she was actually happy to see him and have his hand on her arm.
No. I don’t need him. I don’t care about him.
She started to pull free from his grasp as they got to the door and he let her go. She pushed out of the bar and into the cool night air, stumbling forward.
“Careful,” he said, catching her before she fell onto the sidewalk. His hands were around her arms.
She started wrestling free again, even though part of her wanted him to wrap her even tighter in his arms and hold her, tell her everything was okay.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted, and her words felt slurred and slow.
“Ivy, you’re drunk,” he told her. He was slightly out of breath.
She spun on her heel and faced him, feeling tears in her eyes. She wasn’t quite sure why. “What do you care if I’m drunk? You’re not my Dad.”
He smiled at this. “I’m well aware of that fact.”
“You don’t seem to be. You’re completely insane,” she said, relishing the look of surprise in his eyes as she said this.
“It’s not insane to take things seriously,” he replied. “Insanity is getting drunk with a bunch of horny young men and expecting them to act like gentlemen.”
“You’re just a control freak. No, I take that back,” she continued. “You’re just a plain old freak.”
They stared at one another then, neither of them saying anything.
His cold eyes were glowering, filled with anger and frustration with her—but also, something else.
Ivy was certain that he wanted her. But at the same time, he almost seemed to hate her. She couldn’t tell which—maybe both.
“Why did you do that to me?” she finally said, as two tears spilled down her cheek.
“Those men were throwing you around in there,” he said, nodding at the bar. “I had to get you outside.”
“I don’t mean that,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why did you do that to me—what you did today in your office?”