by JC Hawke
“What was her name?” I question, as I look at the same spreadsheet I’ve been staring at for the last two hours.
“What does that matter? I’ve got a shit ton of emails to get through, and my computer isn’t letting me log in.” He frowns. “Did you hire someone else?”
“No, do it yourself,” I tell him, bored.
He doesn’t say anything. We both know he doesn’t have a clue where to start when looking for staff.
I huff out a long breath as I pick up the phone, and I dial Sal in HR. “I need a personal assistant for Montgomery.”
She tsks, then I hear her tapping on her keyboard. “I will see what I can do, Mr Lowell, but we struggle to find anyone from the agency nowadays with Mr Montgomery’s track record.”
“Up the salary five-k a year, I want a male.” My eyes flick to Elliot. “If it’s a female, she needs to be over fifty.” I hang up.
Elliot stands, smirking at me. “You know I’m not afraid of a cougar.”
“Sleep with your next assistant, and I will fucking fire you.”
“What’s crawled up your ass, you miserable prick. You have slept with more than your fair share, your receptionist for starters.” He gestures towards the reception desk that’s hidden beyond the frosted glass windows.
“Our receptionist is called Alice, Elliot,” I mutter deadpan. And Alice knows how this works. I don’t date any of my employees, and I never take them to my home. There are no promises of more, and I make sure they are well aware of that before I stick my dick in them.
Elliot, on the other hand, took his last assistant to his parents for a weekend away and then wonders why she thinks she’s different.
That one just ended up batshit crazy. She didn’t even cause any fuss. Thankfully, we can pay people to deal with crazy.
“Whatever. I need someone from IT to come fix my computer.” He lays himself down on my office sofa, his feet hanging over the armrest.
“It’s a new computer, dumbass. That’s why you can’t log in. The password and set-up details are in your top drawer.” I open my own drawer, retrieving a key and chucking it at him.
“Where is my old computer? And why do you have my key?” He frowns in confusion but doesn’t move from the sofa.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, fed up with this conversation. “It’s a new desk, Elliot. Your assistant, Emma, bashed the shit out of yours with her stilettos. Your computer suffered a similar fate.”
He sits up, smiling. “I knew she was a feisty little minx.” He laughs.
“Your father turned up at the same time as the cleaners.” I scowl at him, not finding this at all funny.
“Well shit, that’s what Dad was going on about. Fuck! Sorry, Mase. Are you coming out on Friday, yeah? You completely bailed on us last weekend.” He comes to stand in front of my desk, glancing around at the screen.
“I’m not watching fucking porn, Elliot.” I shoot him a look of disbelief. “And I would have been out, but after I dealt with your latest victim, your father, and then had to deal with my father,” I remind him, my rage only building with the memory. “I wasn’t exactly in the mood.”
“But you still showed up.” He tilts his head, looking at me pointedly. “Even after dealing with your dad.” He’s still smirking as if this is all funny to him. Then he goes deeper. “Why was that Mase? Wasn’t anything to do with a certain Pixie?”
I clench my jaw so tight I’m surprised I don’t crack a tooth. “We’re not six years old anymore, Elliot. Grow up!”
“She was smoking hot though, wasn’t she, and a dancer. I knew you’d like her. It’s a good job I didn’t have her for myself.”
Rage seeps through me, and I slam my fist down on the desk. “Don’t fucking talk about her,” I growl.
He grins. Prick. “Calm down, Lowell. I’m winding you up. Did Vin get what you needed?”
I run my hand through my hair, trying to calm down and gather my thoughts. “When doesn’t he?”
“You’ve been to see her, I presume?” he asks.
“What do you think?” I mutter.
“I think she’s your Pixie, mate, that’s what I think.” He chuckles. “I don’t think I’ve seen you this put out over a girl ever.”
“Mason, your eleven o’clock is on his way up,” Alice says through the intercom.
“Off you fuck, Montgomery.” I stand, dismissing him as I button up my suit jacket, thankful for the interruption.
“Drinks. Friday night,” he says, pointing at me as he backs out of my office.
Nina
“Why won’t you open!” I yell, my hand smacking against the solid wood of Erin’s office door. I searched all day for the key, finally finding it in the gym’s staff room, but now I have spent the last twenty minutes trying to get inside. It will not flipping open!
“Alright, crazy, out the way before you hurt yourself.” Logan comes up behind me, probably fed up with my banging.
He lifts me off my feet, moving me out of the way as if I don’t weigh a thing. “Are you sure this is the right key?” He pulls it from the lock, examining it.
“Yes, I’m sure. It wouldn’t be the key to anything else in this place.” I look up at him, unsure. “Would it?”
“I’m not sure, Nina. This key looks new, and the lock is ancient.” He shrugs, trying the door again before bending and looking through the keyhole.
I pout, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ve been looking all afternoon! I’m giving up. If it doesn’t turn up by next week, I’m going to need you to put those muscles to good use and break the door down.” I squeeze his solid bicep.
“I’ve got some time now, so I’ll see if I can find it. The staff room is desperate for a tidy up anyway,” he offers.
“Thanks, Logan, you’re a lifesaver.” I push up on my tiptoes to peck his cheek before I turn and disappear into the studio to get my bag.
“Hey! There’s a guy asking for you downstairs. Said his name is Mason, got riled up when I told him he couldn’t come up here,” he calls from the doorway.
“Mason? He’s downstairs?” A flare of panic spreads through me.
“Sure is. Got a right chip on his shoulder that one. Want me to get rid of him?” he says, puffing out his chest.
God no, which is exactly why I should say yes.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, thoughts of Mason Lowell in his suit consuming me, hmmm delicious, then, sans the suit. Yep, even more delicious. I never knew I had such a fantastic imagination until now.
“No. It’s fine, thanks, Logan. I’ll see you Friday. Henry’s in tomorrow, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, if I find the key, I’ll leave it in the safe,” he calls out as I make my way around the studio, tidying up in a rush.
I stop at the mirror to make sure I look semi-presentable—not that I care—and my face screws up instantly. I mean, it’s not great, but it isn’t bad either. My hair is letting me down massively, sitting in a heap high on my head, tuffs poking out all over the place. I can’t dance with it in my face, and there is just so much of it.
I pull my hairband out, fluffing it over my shoulders, trying to flatten it down and resolving to the fact that it will have to do. Then I grab my bag and take off down the stairs.
In my head, I’d walk down the stairs, take a moment to seek him out—find him first. The studio is my territory, after all. Unfortunately, I don’t get that luxury, and I’m caught completely off guard by him, which is ridiculous because I knew he was here.
He stands at the bottom of the steps, waiting for me. His jaw taut, and lips pressed together. His brows pulled low. I want this man angry all the time. I mean, I have seen his smile. It’s breathtaking.
But angry Mase is fucking fire. I want to douse myself in petrol and climb him like a tree.
I pull my top lip between my teeth to try and stop my smile, my walls slowly crumbling.
How am I supposed to resist this man?
“Mr Lowell, to what do I owe the pleasure?” I
can’t hold it in any longer, a smile splitting my face.
He seems taken aback by my mood. “Uh, I just wanted to see if you needed a lift home,” he stutters.
“Oh, yes, please,” I say sweetly.
He looks at me completely and utterly confused. “You do? You want a lift home? With me?” He frowns, his pointer finger nestled between his solid pecs.
I think I’ve broken him.
“Is Vinny here?” I ask.
“Yes, he’s around the back,” he admits.
“Around the back.” I nod, surprised that he went to so much trouble to scope the place out. And why around the back? Was he preparing for me to run?
I take the last step, standing tall as I look up at him through my lashes. “I think I will go with Vinny today. If you don’t mind?”
His jaw tightens. He doesn’t argue, but I can tell he doesn’t like my answer. “I’ll walk you out,” he grumbles, letting me go first as he follows closely behind as I walk down the narrow hall.
I’m almost at the door when I feel his hands snake around my waist, his warm fingers flexing against the exposed flesh between my leggings and crop top. He turns me, pinning me against the door, his knee pressing roughly at the apex of my thighs. My clit throbs as he looks down at me, gently bringing his forehead to rest against mine.
His hands skim me, waist to hips, holding me in place, and all I can think is how good he feels pushed up against me.
“Keep this up, Nina. I have nothing.” He rolls his hips, his erection prodding my stomach. “Fucking nothing, better to do,” he grits out, brushing his lips from my ear to my neck. He plants one soft kiss on the smooth skin, his nose trailing over the spot before he pulls away from me.
I stand flustered, chest heaving, and desperately craving his touch as he pulls open the door and leaves me without looking back. I let my head drop back to the wall, trying to ease the arousal coursing through me.
Taking a deep breath, I pull open the door; Vinny is waiting right outside, the Audi parked and ready for me.
I give him half a smile, mortified that he could have seen us but knowing it’s impossible. “Hi, Vinny.”
“Nina, nice to see you again so soon,” he says as I skirt past him and climb into the car.
I wait for him to get seated in the driver’s seat then say, “I’m sorry, you must have far more important things to do than drive me around the city.”
“I don’t do what’s important to me; I do what’s important to Mr Lowell.” He winks.
“You’re his driver?” I ask with a frown.
He has a funny look on his face as if what I am saying is amusing. “Yes. I’m his driver,” he confirms.
“How long have you worked for him?” I decide to get as much out of him as I can whilst I have the chance.
“Sixteen years now,” he says proudly, eyeing me in the mirror again. I want to ask so many questions.
I need to pick the right ones.
“Sixteen years? That’s a long time.” I study him as he drives. I wouldn’t have put Vinny at much past fifty, so he had to be young when he started.
“I was thirty-eight, straight out of the forces when his father hired me,” he says, confirming my suspicions.
“Do you always drive his—” I pause, looking for the right word. “Female friends.”
I definitely wouldn’t call Mase my friend.
“No, you’re the only ‘female friend’ I’ve been asked to drive.” He says with a grin.
Hmm, interesting. Does Mason feel bad about calling me a prostitute, so now he is palming me off on his driver?
Or is he actually interested?
“He normally drives them himself?” I ask, and god, I sound pathetic.
“Maybe you should ask him yourself?” he says. I take the hint, not asking any more questions for the rest of the journey.
Vinny turns in his seat once we arrive at my building, passing me a card. “My number if you need a lift ever. Mr Lowell would be grateful if you’d call me when travelling alone.”
I roll my eyes, slipping the card into my bag with the rest of my junk. I don’t need my own personal taxi! Who even has that much money that they can just send a driver on demand? “Thank you again for the lift,” I say, climbing from the car and then waving him off.
I’m halfway down Oxford street, admiring my shining new phone screen, which I haven’t been able to use since Megan smashed it, and I’m shocked at how much I’ve missed it. Scrolling through my messages on the lock screen, I close my eyes, cursing my friends under my breath.
The messages are mostly from Lucy and Megan. They knew I was picking it up, and they’ve sent me a load of dirty messages. The latest one reading, ‘You left your vibrator in the shower again’. It’s the first message on the list, and there’s no way the repair guy wouldn’t have seen it.
I scroll down the list.
‘Ben called, he’s got the Syph! Better get checked hun’ I laugh out loud, unable to control myself. Those bitches! I will kill them!
Swiping across the screen, I see I have six missed calls, all from Joey. I really should check he is okay. I decide to call him back, and he answers on the second ring.
“Nina! Hi, I’ve been calling. Are you okay?” he rushes out, sounding genuinely worried.
My step falters with his tone, his concern throwing me off. “Hi Joey, I’m fine. I smashed my phone screen, and I’ve just picked it up from the repair shop.”
“Ah, yeah. That makes sense. Do you want to meet for a coffee? I am working just up the road from your studio today.”
“I’m actually heading home, Joey. Sorry,” I lie and instantly feel bad. I start to backpedal. “Maybe tomorrow?” Oh god, stop talking, Nina. I put my hand on my head as I try and worm my way through the conversation. I might as well have met him today. Get it over and done with.
“Yes! Tomorrow is fine. I will meet you at the studio. What time?”
“That’s okay. I’ll meet you at the café. Is The Elm okay? Let’s say, at twelve o’clock?”
It’s close for me to get back after and I’d rather go somewhere I know, in case I need to make a quick exit.
“Sounds good Nina, I’m looking forward to seeing you.”
“You too, Joey. See you tomorrow!” I hang up, regretting calling him in the first place. He is obviously okay.
I want to launch my phone at the ground because of my inability to say no. I refrain myself, though, glaring down at my reflection in my shiny new screen.
It’s late when I finish my last lesson. Henry left an hour ago, locking up the gym behind him. I had one of my under fourteens in for a one-to-one session this evening. It’s a great little money booster for me with bills to pay, but more importantly, it shows me their passion for dancing.
The studio lights illuminate the room as darkness blankets the vast world outside. It’s my favourite time of day to be here and the only time I allow myself to switch off fully.
Making my way over to the speaker, I plug in my phone and find the song I want. Alessia Cara pours from the speakers moments later, singing about being beautiful just the way you are. I close my eyes and let the music take over my soul, dancing around the studio as I get lost in the only form of therapy my body knows.
It’s nine p.m. when I finally flick off the lights to the studio. I bolt down the stairs and across the gym to the main door like a wimp, afraid of the dark. Pulling open the door, I glance around to make sure no one is waiting in the shadows to mug me. My dramatics are warranted based on London crime rates these days.
My stomach dips when I spot the Audi waiting at the curb, the fear I felt moments ago chased away by a warmth that spreads through my chest.
Vinny gets out of the driver’s seat and opens the door for me, dipping his head to the side in question.
I smile, turning to lock the door.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” I ask, stepping past him and sliding into the seat.
“Not long at
all,” he says, shutting the door and rounding the car. I know Vinny is lying. He has no idea when I’m coming or going; I don’t have set times.
I am going to have to put a stop to this.
“You’re too nice, Vinny. You should tell him to piss off.” My lip twitches. “It’s fun, you know, making him angry.”
“You have no idea, Miss Anderson,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth tipping up like mine.
I relax into the seat, my body going lax as I finally allow myself to stop. It’s been the longest day, and I really am glad for the lift.
“No Mason this evening?” I remark.
Vinny’s brows pull in, his lips forming a thin line. “No. I’m afraid he got caught up at the office and couldn’t get away.”
I frown, checking the time on the dash. “It’s nine o’clock. Does he always work this late?”
“When necessary,” he mutters, not giving me any more than that. Clearly, he doesn’t want to tell me, and that’s fine.
“I appreciate you being here tonight, Vinny. I’m not sure my poor feet would’ve managed much more tonight.”
His features soften a little, his shoulders relaxing. “It’s my pleasure, Nina, although it would help me if you could call when you’re nearly ready to leave. Mason will send me whether you like it or not,” he says.
I roll my eyes as I smile. This is all well and good, but why? Why is he insistent on having me driven around? “Well, now I feel bad. How long were you waiting today?”
“Only a couple of hours,” he chuckles.
“A couple of hours! Vinny, that is ridiculous! Why didn’t you come in and check how long I’d be?”
“That’s what—”
He’s cut off by his ringing phone. Reaching forward, he taps the car’s touchscreen, answering on the first ring.
“Anything?” Mason snaps, his voice echoing through the entire car.
I give Vinny a wink to let him know I’ve got this. “Hello Mr Lowell, how are you this evening?” I purr playfully. Vinny shakes his head as he looks out the window, but I can see his smile as I try to hold back my giggles.