Sweet Surrendering

by Chelsea M. Cameron

  I turned my phone on and was inundated with messages.

  “Fuck!!!” It was Sunday night and I was supposed to be at my parents’ for dinner. I had three missed calls from my mother. Oh God, they probably thought I was dead.

  “What?”

  “I completely forgot dinner with my parents! What am I going to say?” There was no way I could tell them the truth.

  “Give me your phone,” Sloane said, and I handed it to her. She hit a button and put the phone to her ear.

  “Mrs. Clarke? Hello, this is Sloane. Yes, I’m calling about Rory . . . No, she’s fine, she’s just very under the weather. We went out for breakfast and I think she had some bad eggs or something. She was puking all morning . . . No, she’s sleeping now . . . I think she just needs to sleep it off and get it out of her system . . . Yes, I will. Okay, Bye.” She handed the phone back to me.

  “Done.”

  “I feel like I should call and explain,” I said, looking at the phone. I hated lying to my parents.

  “Call them later. Or tomorrow morning. It’s no big, she was just worried and once she knew that you were indisposed, she was fine.”

  “Okay, I guess.” I still felt shitty about it.

  “Go back and sit down.” Sloane shoved me toward the couch. I sat down with a sigh and turned on the television, finally settling on a marathon of a show about picking wedding dresses. I knew Sloane would love it. Her running commentary was worth the price of admission.

  An hour later, I was inhaling enchiladas with pico de gallo, and a black bean and corn salad, and the German chocolate cake was baking in the oven. Sometimes, you need to eat your feelings.

  “Oh my God. I can’t watch. I can’t watch. Tell me they’re not going to put her in a mermaid gown. Tell me this is not happening,” Sloane said, covering her eyes with her hands.

  “Oh, it’s happening. Her mom always dreamed of her in the mermaid dress, so she’s wearing the mermaid dress.” On most people, a mermaid dress would look good, but on this girl . . . not so much.

  I grabbed another enchilada from the pan and some more salad. Sloane peeked behind her fingers. “Oh thank God. That’s much more suited to her.”

  The timer dinged and Sloane raced to get the cake out of the oven and set it on a rack to cool while she made the frosting.

  Once the cake was finished, we didn’t even cut it, just used forks and dug in. My internal clock was messed up from the all night fuckfest and then the huge nap I’d taken. Tomorrow was going to be rough.

  “Men suck,” Sloane said with her mouth full of cake.

  “They do.” I took another bite. I found it interesting that Sloane was so focused on everyone else’s love lives, but was doing nothing about her own, and I was starting to get suspicious, but I was going to wait a little while before I asked her about it.

  Besides, I had some more wallowing to do.

  I didn’t get breakfast for Lucas on Monday morning, but I got my own. I kind of hoped he would see that as a statement, but maybe he wouldn’t.

  In the elevator up to my office I was trying to gain my normal ice-cold composure, but it wasn’t happening. I couldn’t snap the wall in front of my emotions. All because of Lucas Blaine and his stupid magical tongue and lovely penis.

  I got out of the elevator and walked right to his desk, my heels clicking on the floor, which helped steady my nerves just a little bit. There was a bag on top, as if it was waiting for me. Mr. Blaine was already typing away.

  “Good morning, Miss Clarke. Your strawberry donut and coffee are right there and I’ve already gone through and flagged your important emails.” He didn’t stop typing or look up at me.

  “Thank you Mr. Blaine.” I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t, so I grabbed the bag and my coffee and headed to my desk. I hoped he didn’t see that I’d already gotten my breakfast, so I now had two.

  I just had to get through the rest of the day. And then the next after that . . .

  I threw myself into work, and it seemed that Mr. Blaine had done the same. All our discourse was clipped and short and without any longing or lusty staring. At least on his part.

  He seemed to be doing fine, and that made me feel even worse. Clearly, he’d taken me seriously about the one night thing. We should have done this originally. Then maybe I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Even though it was torture, I left my door open and it took any leftover concentration I had to not look at him as he worked.

  His face was so serious all day. I’d never seen him that way, and it was just as sexy as his smile. There was something unbearably attractive about a man when he was on a mission. That was how he’d been last night when he looked at me. Like he was going to possess me. Own me. I’d let him, and I’d done my best to him back.

  I tried to block him out, but later in the afternoon he was on the phone and I couldn’t ignore it. He was arguing with someone, and it didn’t look like something work related. I looked up from my desk and saw him pinch the bridge of his nose as if he was losing his patience.

  I wished I could read lips, but I couldn’t, and he was too far away and talking too low for me to eavesdrop; but something was definitely not okay. He smacked his hand on the desk and then looked around, as if he was aware that he might be making a scene. I quickly flipped my eyes to some papers on my desk, but I knew he saw me.

  He hung up the phone and I could feel his eyes on me. Great. I’d gotten caught. I picked up my phone and dialed his extension. He picked up after one ring.

  “Everything okay?” I said. He sighed and he looked defeated. It’s a strange thing when you can see the face of the person you’re talking to on the phone. Puts a whole new spin on it.

  “I’m sorry if I disturbed you. I didn’t mean to. It won’t happen again.” He sounded depressed and dejected and I wanted, more than anything, to reach through the phone and put my arms around him.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “No,” he said as he shook his head. “Nothing anyone can do.”

  “Is it bad?”

  “No. Nothing that won’t take care of itself. Don’t worry about me.” His voice was soft and it reminded me of the way he’d spoken the other night in bed. You’re so beautiful. Sloane hadn’t asked me to wear any more of her creations, and I was relieved. Wearing them just for me wasn’t as much fun as seeing Lucas’ face when he looked at me in them.

  “Okay. Please let me know if I can do anything.”

  “Thank you, Miss Clarke. That won’t be necessary.” His cordial voice was back. He was shutting me out again. I should be glad, but it was almost as if he’d slammed a door in my face.

  “You’re . . . you’re welcome, Mr. Blaine.” He hung up the phone and went back to work.

  Questions swirled through my head and made it hard to think. What had the phone call been about? Was it personal? He hadn’t mentioned anything about his personal life, other than his nieces and brothers. He’d never spoken of his parents.

  And that opened up other questions. I had his résumé, so I knew where he went to school and when he graduated, but what had it been like? Did he have a lot of friends, or was he a loner? Had he liked school? What did he do in his spare time, other than singing?

  And why did he ask me to call him Lucah on Saturday night?

  The questions weighed heavily on me and made me tired. I locked the screen on my computer and walked down the hall to Dad’s office. I’d seen him this morning already and told him all about my illness, which was easier than I thought it would be, and that made me feel even worse than I already did.

  I knocked on the door and waited. He was on the phone, but he hung up and told me to come in.

  “Rory, what are you doing down this end of the hallway? Not that I’m not pleased to see my girl.” He got up from his desk and gave me a hug. I must have looked like I needed it.

  I definitely did.

  “Why so blue?”

  “Oh, I think I’m still worn down from the f
ood poisoning. Nothing a few good nights of sleep couldn’t cure. Or maybe some more coffee. Lots of coffee.” I breathed in his aftershave and cologne. It was a special blend Mom had made for him every Christmas, and I’d smelled it since childhood. It was home. And safety.

  “So since I didn’t get to interrogate you at dinner, tell me how your outing with Fin went,” he said, leading me to a chair and handing me a glass of water. I took it, if only to have something to do with my hands.

  I gave him the sanitized version and told him that despite having a lovely conversation with him, and him being very good-looking, it wasn’t going to be producing love or babies anytime soon.

  “Ah, I thought so, but your mother was convinced. And there isn’t another special young man in your life?” I shook my head, probably a little too vigorously.

  “Nope. I’m married to the job right now. When the right one comes along, I’ll know.” God, I sounded like a Disney character. I should be twirling around in a field and singing while woodland creatures cleaned my house.

  “Well, I don’t want you to turn around forty years from now and regret that you missed out on something. The job will always be here for you when you want it. People say I’m a nepotist, and I am. There will always be jobs for those I care about. Why would I hire anyone else?” He gave me another hug.

  “Dad? Don’t tell anyone that I was in here. I have to keep my persona intact.” He laughed.

  “I won’t breathe a word. Come talk to me anytime, Rory.” With one last kiss on my head, I left, feeling a little bit better, but no less confused.

  I made it through the day, and Lucas left a few minutes before me, so I didn’t have to ride the elevator down with him.

  The next morning he brought my breakfast again, and he was deep in work when I got there. It was almost an exact repeat of the day before.

  The next day was the same. And the next.

  A whole week went by with his cordial words and emotionless looks and I felt myself getting more and more bogged down with work and stress. I’d wanted this. I’d demanded it, and now that I had it, I just wanted to go back to the time when he’d come up behind me in the break room and whisper something dirty in my ear, or when I could feel him ogling my ass as I walked away, or even when he’d smile and I knew he was happy. He didn’t seem happy, and then it was time for his three-week evaluation. It was my job to do this one, but all other evaluations would be done by the head of Human Resources.

  If he lasted that long.

  I picked up the phone and dialed his extension. He picked up without looking up at me.

  “Would you please come into my office and close the door, Mr. Blaine?”

  “Of course, Miss Clarke.” We hung up and he straightened his desk and locked his computer before walking around his desk and into my office, shutting the door softly behind him.

  “Please, sit down.” We hadn’t been alone like this and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. My body reacted to his. That’s just the way it was. He flipped a switch in me whenever he was around.

  “As you know, you’ve been with us three weeks now and so it’s time to evaluate your progress. So, how do you think you’re doing?” I folded my hands on my desk and thanked whoever had written a sheet of questions for me to ask so I had something to look at other than his face.

  “I enjoy my job. It is challenging and exciting; I feel like I get along with everyone here and I think I’m contributing.” Well said, but with about zero emotion.

  This wasn’t him.

  I cleared my throat.

  “Well, I agree with you on all of those points. You’re a hard worker. You’re on time and you finish everything you start and—” I was interrupted by him using his hand to smother a laugh. That caught me completely off guard.

  I looked up from my paper and saw that his face was red and he was still trying not to laugh and failing.

  “I’m sorry. Go on.” He coughed and tried to put his serious face back on.

  “As I was saying, you finish everything you start and—“

  Cue laugher. This time he couldn’t stop, and I caught it.

  “Oh, you are such a perv.” I grabbed a pen and threw it at him. “Of course you would take something as simple as an evaluation and make it dirty. Typical guy.” Yup, any semblance of professionalism went out the window.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, you just looked so serious when you said it.”

  I looked up from his evaluation form. “Hey, I’m not the one who’s had serious face on all week.”

  “Yeah, well your bitch face has been getting quite a workout. Every time I check you’ve got it on. I mean, it’s just as sexy as your not-bitch face. If you were trying to not be sexy, it didn’t work.”

  “Yeah, ditto.”

  He leaned back and his face relaxed and mine did too.

  “So,” he said.

  “So.”

  “We sucked at that, didn’t we?” he said.

  “Sucked at what?” He put his hands behind his head and I pushed the evaluation sheet aside.

  “At the one night plan. When . . . when I woke up and found you in my arms . . . I knew that I couldn’t have just one night. I wanted more. Still do.”

  Oh, these were all the things that girls want boys to say to them, but they were wrong in this context.

  “Just because you want something, doesn’t mean you can have it,” I said.

  “Actually, it’s been my experience that it does. I always get what I want, even if I have to work for it.” He was incorrigible.

  “Why are you making this so hard on me, Lucas? Oh, and why did you ask me to call you Lucah?”

  That caught him off guard. Hmm.

  “It’s . . . it’s a nickname I had when I was young. Only certain people are allowed to call me that.”

  “And I’m a certain person?”

  Our eyes met and locked.

  “You are.”

  I took a shaky breath.

  “I can’t deny that one night wasn’t enough for me, but I can’t let this, or whatever it could be jeopardize my job. This is my life. I’ve known I was going to work here since I could crawl down those hallways. I took my first steps outside Dad’s office. This is who I am and I don’t know how to add you to the picture without wrecking everything.” He waited, because he knew there was more.

  “With that said, how about we continue our . . . nights outside the office. Just nights. And then we’ll come in the next day and we can function, because right now, I don’t feel like I’m functioning. I’m still doing my job, but it’s not the same.” I didn’t mean to tell him all that, but it was pointless to try to hide how I was feeling.

  “I know. I’m . . . I’m so sorry about all of this.” What did he have to be sorry for? I could have slapped him with a harassment suit at any time and tossed him out on his ass. But then he could have thrown it in my face, since I was his boss and in a position of power to leverage him for sex.

  “It’s not your fault. We just have to figure out how to work around this. Maybe . . . maybe I can get you transferred to another department. Then at least we wouldn’t have to stare at each other all day long.”

  He half smiled. “But I like staring at you all day long.”

  I bit my lip. “Yeah, me too. I mean, staring at you. I don’t stare at myself.”

  That elicited another real smile from him.

  “Nights?” he said, the smile widening and becoming more wicked.

  “Nights. Only nights.”

  He got up from his chair and walked around my desk, then turned my chair to face him.

  “Well, it’s night in England right now. And you know, this country was founded by Englishmen, so as far as I’m concerned that makes it night here by proxy.” He got down on his knees so our faces were at the same level.

  “Is that some twisted way of saying that it’s five o’clock somewhere?”

  “More or less.” His mouth was so close to mine. I felt like I hadn�
�t tasted it in so long. I could have a kiss, right? Just one little itty bitty kiss.

  He stopped with his face only an inch away from mine and our noses almost brushed. He crossed his eyes at me and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  And then my phone rang, shattering the moment. He groaned and I saw that it was one of the other executives, so it was important.

  “I need to take this.” He nodded and stood up, but didn’t leave. I gave him a look and he put his hands up as if he surrendered and backed out of the room as I answered the phone.

  He left my door open, and I swiveled my chair back around so I could watch him as he sat down at his desk. The call was quick, something that could have been taken care of via email, and I spent most of the time rolling my eyes and miming shooting myself as Lucas tried not to laugh at his desk. Whenever someone walked by we had to stop looking at each other.

  I hung up from the unnecessary phone call and immediately dialed Lucas.

  “We didn’t finish your three week evaluation.”

  He hung up the phone and walked back into my office and shut the door.

  “You rang?”

  How could I be serious with him?

  “You know that you’re doing well, and that there isn’t anything that’s a major problem. So just keep doing what you’re doing. The next time you’ll be evaluated, it will be in three months and I won’t be the one doing it, so you’re not going to be able to get away with all the stuff you’re getting away with right now. Don’t screw it up and don’t make me look bad. Here’s a copy of your evaluation to look over and sign. Now get out of my office,” I flung the piece of paper at him and pointed to the door.

  “Bitch,” he said grabbing the paper and pretending to storm out, but when he got to his desk he stuck his tongue out at me, minus the silver bar. I still needed to ask him about that.

  I picked up the phone again.

  “When did you get your tongue pierced?”

  “You know, telling me to leave your office and then calling me back sends a bit of a mixed message.”

  “Just answer the question and get back to work.”