by Liz Fox
“That sounds like a dangerous proposition.”
“And it will probably never happen. That’s why I’m the one who has to make my dreams come true.”
After we hang up, I reflexively check my phone for any new notifications. Two new emails. One is from my college ex-boyfriend, Chuck. We broke up when I moved to Oakwood City to pursue my career. It looks like he’s getting married. And he’s sending email invitations instead of cards. Lovely. Looks like I made the right decision there.
Even so, a wistful feeling flows through me for a moment. Yes, I’m happy where I am in life. Yes, I have good friends, a good job, and so many things to be grateful for. But sometimes, when I’m home by myself, I wish I had someone to cuddle with. A guaranteed date to the movies. When I go out to eat, someone to make it a party of two.
It isn’t that I haven’t dated. I have. When I first moved to Oakwood City, I went on a few dates. But the guys were “meh” and eventually, I decided to focus my attention on my career for a while. It’s something I have a bit more control over.
With my girlfriends here in the same complex, mostly my life feels happily full. It’s only when I get an email like this that I remember how nice it is to have someone to hold as I fall asleep. Not to mention the exercise my battery operated boyfriend gets in the meantime.
“That’s enough sighing, isn’t it Dixon?” I rub my hand over his soft fur. “I’m not really alone. I have you.”
Wanting to move on from the topic of my sad love life, I open the email from Michael.
“Lovely Miriam, I so enjoyed our time together. There’s a charity date auction in a few days. Would you do me the honor of coming as my date? I know it’s short notice, but be warned, I won’t take no for an answer. Yours, Michael”
Ugh. I never should have had coffee with that ass. Now, I have to navigate a professional relationship with him. He isn’t an Oakwood Boy, but he’s still well known in the industry. Far more than I am. I’m stuck in a corner with this invitation. He could smear my reputation and ruin my career before it even gets started if I get on his bad side. Damn it.
Reluctantly, I reply to his email, confirming my attendance at the event. In order to feel better about the whole thing, I stipulate that I’ll make my own travel arrangements. That way I’m still courteous, but not a complete pushover.
The email with Michael reminds me that I have a couple of meetings with people I met at the investment dinner. Even though lunch today was amazing, I still don’t know if that’s going to be a regular occurrence or a one time thing. I still want to keep my options open.
Now that I know Drake is keeping an eye on me, I’ll have to be a little more devious if I want to keep things private. Fortunately, I think I have a work around.
“I think my plan is going to work out just fine,” I say to Dixon. I’m tempted to add a mwa haha, but I’m not the bad guy here. I’m just a woman trying to figure things out the best way I know how.
With that thought in mind, I lean back, take a sip of my cosmo, and open the latest romance novel by C.L. Cruz, one of my favorite authors.
◆◆◆
“Hello Mateo, thank you so much for meeting with me.” Mateo Alvaro is a partner at TetraTech. He’s a software engineer with a head for finance, or so the rumors say. Someone there is, because the four partners—Lincoln, Wesley, Dwight, and Mateo—have quickly become movers in the Oakwood City business scene.
We’re sitting in Grinders, the same coffee shop I was in a couple days ago with Michael. It has a very bright and open atmosphere with a minimalistic design, bamboo countertops, and white walls. Small tables with metal chairs line the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop. Last time, I’d been nervous and claimed a table as far from the windows as possible. But this time, I don’t mind being seen and am glad to have claimed a table in the front.
“I’m always happy to meet with an intelligent, beautiful woman,” he says. Even though we’re here professionally, you’d have to be dead not to respond to his smooth tones. It might not be too deep, but he oozes the kind of charm you expect from a politician, not an engineer. His thick black hair, warm brown eyes, and tan, muscular body might have something to do with it. Plus, he wears glasses.
Yum, but sadly, not for me. With Drake, it’s always a challenge to act normal, especially where half the time I want to climb like a tree. Mateo is attractive, no doubt, but I’m not here for romance. And for some odd reason, while I can appreciate his appeal, I’m not feeling the zing.
“Thank you,” I reply. Since there isn’t any chemistry between us, it’s easy to flirt back. “And I always enjoy spending time with a brilliant, handsome man.”
He grins. “What can I help you with today?”
“Well, I have a few ideas that I think your company might be interested in.” With that, I share some of the projects I’ve been working on outside of my time with Drake. Right now, they’re mostly in the early stages, but that’s okay. Just talking about them with some people in the industry is a start.
“As far as I can tell, these are some great ideas,” he says, after we’ve gone back and forth chatting for almost an hour. “Make sure to reach out to me when you move into the implementation stage.”
“Thank you. I will.” My smile is so big, I’m probably in danger of catching flies. We say our goodbyes and leave. That went even better than I expected, giving me even more confidence for my next meeting; the one that I’m keeping completely on the down low.
With a skip in my step, I head back to the office. What started out as a kind of crappy week is turning into something awesome. I’m certainly happy with my new direction, though my boss might not feel the same way.
Chapter 6
Drake
She had lunch with Mateo Alvaro. Damn her.
This time, Maximillian Hawthorne himself is the one who emailed me.
“I heard your lovely assistant is making the rounds. You had better step up your game if you want to keep her.”
Shit. I slam my hand onto my desk, but it’s not enough. Standing, I pace the length of my office, trying to burn some of this furious energy.
The infuriating thing about Max’s email is that he’s right. I do need to step up my game. The problem is I’m not exactly sure what game I’m playing. Am I trying to keep her as my assistant or do I want something more?
It doesn’t seem to matter, at least not to the burning heat running through me. Every fiber of my being wants to hunt her down, own her delicious body, and mark her as mine.
Growling, I try to calm myself, but it isn’t working. I need a release, and my preferred option isn’t available. I’ll have to make do.
An hour later, I leave the gym and am rinsing off in the shower. The cool water feels good against my steaming skin. Forty-five minutes on the punching bag helped a little, but I’m still worked up. And not just my temper. My new obsession with Miriam has my cock hard as a rock. Squirting some body wash in my hand, I run it over my thick erection. The heat of anger instantly turns into overwhelming desire.
With an image of Miriam in my mind, I thrust into my slick palm. I picture the contrast of her pale fingers running over my tan, muscled chest. Her soft curves and thick thighs spread naked in my office. Her round ass facing me as she bends over my desk. I grip her wide hips, holding her in place as I devour her sweet, hot center. Her swollen lips, open and waiting to take my cock.
My balls tighten at the image. I can’t stop. My hand squeezes tighter, moving faster over my massive length. I groan as my cum lands on the wall of the shower.
Fuck.
Just imagining fucking Miriam gave me the best orgasm of my life. I take a moment to recover and then finish cleaning off. By the time I exit the shower, the question has been answered. Is Miriam my employee or my woman? The answer?
Everything. She’s mine, inside and out. Her beauty, brains, and delectable breasts.
Miriam’s about to find out what it’s like to be ruthlessly pursued. And
if Michael or any other fucker wants to mess with her, they’ll quickly find themselves in a world of hurt.
◆◆◆
“Miriam, please come into my office,” I page her on our inner office system later that afternoon. Moments later she walks through my door. “Take a seat.”
Today she’s wearing a black and white striped dress with a teal cardigan and matching heels, but it doesn’t even matter because all I can envision is how she would look naked and wanting in front of me.
“I heard you’ve been seeing other people.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it that.” She laughs awkwardly. “But I’m glad you brought it up. I’ve been wanting to tell you about some of the things I’ve been working on.”
“Is this what you’ve been consulting others about?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why didn’t you come to me first?” Irritation, or maybe hurt, stings in my chest.
“Well, I guess I wanted to see if the idea had legs before I brought it to you.” Her hands flutter nervously. “Plus, you’ve kind of been giving me mixed signals lately. Saying I wasn’t ready and then taking me to lunch with the Oakwood Boys.”
Maybe I have been giving her mixed signals. But that’s my prerogative as her boss, at least until I figure out my own thoughts. “Fine. Tell me your ideas.”
With that invitation, she starts laying out her projects. I’m listening to her, but only vaguely. Most of my attention is on her passion for the topic and how that translates into her body language. Her face lights up, her hazel eyes glow like light shining through autumn leaves. She scoots to the edge of her chair, leaning forward in excitement and giving me a view of her generous cleavage.
My cock thickens. It’s like the release in the shower never happened. I want her naked, wet, and screaming my name.
“Mateo thought it was a good idea,” she finishes up her explanation.
That bastard’s name coming out of my woman’s mouth throws me out of my daydream. “I’m sure he did,” I reply sardonically.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she bites back.
I lean forward, done with this professional charade. “It means, Miriam, that while your ideas might be good, they aren’t the only reason you’re getting a good response.”
Without waiting for her response, I stand up and stride around the desk until I’m towering over her.
“Do you know what these men are thinking?” I demand. “Do you know what they want to do to you?”
“Um, I’m pretty sure all they want to do is have a cup of coffee.” She tries to sass me, but I hear the tremble in her voice.
“Wrong.” Impatiently, I grab her by the shoulders, pulling her out of the chair. She has no idea how desirable she is.
“Drake… Um, Mr. Gallagher, I’m not sure what you’re implying.” She slowly backs away from me. “I’m not the kind of woman that men… um, lust over.”
I prowl after her, not letting the distance between us grow. “Wrong again, pet.”
With a gasp, she flattens against the wall of my office. I slowly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, drawing out the tension. She’s right where I want her and I’m not going to let her get away.
“What do they want?” she whispers, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths.
“They want to do this.” I claim her lips with my own, like I’ve been wanting to do since she walked in the door.
She opens her mouth with a gasp. I deepen the kiss, taking advantage of her surprise. Miriam tastes just like she smells, like cinnamon—hot and spicy—and I’m instantly addicted. Her hands slide to the back of my neck and our tongues battle, sliding against each other until it feels like I’m going to explode.
“This is what they want. This is what they’re thinking,” I growl, leaving her lips so I can taste her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. Her head falls back against the wall, forcing her breasts forward. “You’re a goddess.”
Instinct has taken complete control of me. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve been with beautiful women before, but none of them drove me to this level of savagery. Her innocence and passion drive me further over the edge. Her taste, her smell, the sounds she makes—all of it perfectly designed to drive me crazy. I want to claim her, mark her, breed her. And then I want to beat the shit out of any other male who dares to look at her.
My hands find the collar of her shirt, ready to pull it down. My mouth waters at the thought of tasting her succulent breasts.
“Drake. Drake, wait.” Her voice is breathy, the soft exhale as she speaks shoots a direct line of fire to my already throbbing cock. I leash the beast, barely, trying to give Miriam the moment she’s asking for.
“Where did this come from?” She licks her swollen lips. The beast inside struggles to break free.
“It came from you. Your shape. Your curves. Your brilliant and sassy mind.” I capture her lips again, needing to imprint her taste in my brain, and do the same for her—so she never, ever forgets who she belongs to.
Miriam pulls back. “But I’ve worked for you for three years. Why now?”
Unable to help it, I growl against her lips. “You think I’m going to let those sons of bitches take what’s mine?”
“Take what’s yours?” Her voice starts confused and grows more confident as she continues. “You mean this is just some chest-beating, penis-measuring, testosterone bullshit?”
My beast feels the moment slipping away and claws at my insides. My hands tingle, desperate to pull her back into my arms. But the fog of desire has cleared from her dark hazel eyes.
She pushes me away, and I let her. Just one step.
“That’s not what I meant,” I try to explain, but she isn’t having any of it.
“I can’t believe you did this.” Miriam is strong, so strong. But the waver in her voice tells me everything.
Her pain feels like a knife in my gut. I made a mistake and I’m not sure how to fix it. The sparkle in her eyes has completely disappeared. Her expression is closed off, and I’m certain she has barricaded her heart.
Desperately, I lean over her, resting my elbow on the wall behind her head. “You’re smart, you’re creative, and you make me want to invest in your stock.” I try to make a joke to lighten the mood, running one hand softly over her cheek. My voice deepens until it’s barely audible. “You’re the woman I didn’t know I wanted. And now that I really see you, I know you’re meant to be mine.”
Her eyes narrow, anger and hurt gleaming within them like hazel fire. “You never saw me before. You’re only seeing me now because of some ridiculous rivalry. This isn’t real. You’re using me like a pawn, just like everyone else. Well, I don’t want to be a part of this.”
She pushes me away again and goes to leave, pausing in the doorway to make one final statement. “You’re the one that hurts the most. I thought better of you, Drake.”
Chapter 7
Miriam
I knew this date was a bad idea before I even said yes, but it’s worse than I expected. I met Michael at the Monolith hotel ballroom an hour ago, wearing a form-fitting black cocktail dress and nude heels.
It’s a massive, gilded room with dozens of chandeliers overhead. Most of them are dimmed to give the large room a cozy ambience. There’s a bar along the back—where I’m standing—and tables and chairs decorated in lavender and gold, all set out before a makeshift stage.
It should be a lovely evening, raising money for cancer research while enjoying catered hors d'oeuvres and a tasty champagne. When I first arrived, I felt quite pretty. Instead, my confidence takes a hit with each woman who walks on the stage waiting to be auctioned off.
Michael leers at each of the women, making lecherous comments about their bodies, their dresses, their sexual appeal. Nothing is off the table. He even goes so far as to bid on one of them, which I don’t necessarily mind. After all, it’s for charity. It’s not the bidding that bothers me. It’s the sleazy wink and comment that goes with it. “You unders
tand, right babe? I like to keep my options open.”
Thank god it’s just a couple hours of my life. I excuse myself to use the restroom and group text with my girls.
Miriam: This is the worst date ever.
Quinn: Where are you?
Miriam: At a charity date auction.
Helena: I’m here too! I’d save you, but I gotta keep an eye on my own troublemaker.
Miriam: He can’t be as bad as mine.
Amara: Just have a few drinks, do your time, and get out of there girl. You don’t owe him anything.
Quinn: What she said.
Miriam: Thanks ladies. I think the auction is almost over. Gotta go.
When I return to the ballroom, Michael is already mingling. He’s in a group with what look like mid to upper level executives. Not the big fish in the room, but the kind who follow the big fish and then turn around and try to claim credit.
Pasting a fake smile on my face, I join the group.
“There you are.” Michael offers his own smarmy smile. “Let me introduce you to some of my friends. Miriam, these are some of the top minds in the city. You know that app that made it so big this year? You might think it was created by TetraTech, but Fred here is the one who gave them the idea.”
Fred raises his glass in greeting and Michael continues, “Chip works with me and Jim has his own business. Gentlemen, this is Drake Gallagher’s personal assistant.”
My temper rises with his introduction. For one, it didn’t include my name. Additionally, I object to the implication that my services for Drake are somehow not professional.
“Actually, my name is Miriam Delgado and I’m an Executive Assistant for Gallagher Financial,” I correct him, my tone sharp.
“Sure, sure. We know how it is, right boys?” Michael slaps one of the guys on the shoulder. At this point, I don’t even care who they are. I have no intention of furthering my acquaintance with any of them. No wonder Drake ditched this asshole years ago. As it stands, anyone who claims an association with him goes on my Do Not Call list.