Falling Under You

by Laurelin Paige

  My eyes widened, my mouth opening and shutting as I searched for something else to say, something that would convince him I meant business. Something to convince him to give me his decision right the fuck now. “One way or another, he’s coming with me to that party, Hudson.”

  “Then I’ll give you my answer before then. Now if that’ll be all…” He picked up his phone as though he meant to make another call.

  A little miffed to be so curtly dismissed, I paused. But I’d said what I’d come to say, and that was Hudson’s way, after all. “Yes. That’s it.” Then I spun around and left.

  Boyd and I didn’t say a word as we walked down the hall toward my office. I was pretty sure he’d heard my discussion with Hudson, but he’d given no indication or reaction, and each step that we took in silence, the pounding of my heart in my ears got louder and my breaths got shallower.

  Oh my god.

  What had I done?

  Boyd followed me into my office and closed the door, then pressed his back against it, and for half a second I thought, keep the door open, you fool! Someone will spread rumors!

  And then it hit me—rumors didn’t matter anymore. After what I’d just said? After what I’d told Hudson? It didn’t matter what anyone else thought because Boyd and I were about to come out of the closet.

  Too agitated to sit down, I paced the room a few times then stopped and turned toward Boyd.

  He smiled as I met his stare. “You’re hot.”

  I was hot. Like, sweating hot. My hands were clammy, and I was sure my face was red. I started pacing again, fanning myself. “I have so much adrenaline right now. That felt good.”

  Boyd crossed his arms over his chest. “You know that threats like that only work if you’re prepared to follow through with them.”

  That was the problem. Or it wasn’t a problem because, even though I’d acted on impulse, I was determined to stand behind my actions. “I am totally prepared to follow through.”

  Wait! Fuck. I froze as realization came tumbling over me. “I should have talked to you about it first! What was I thinking?”

  “We’ve been talking about it. This is your court, remember? I trust you here.” Every note of his tone said he was sincere. My skin tingled with the acknowledgment of his faith. It was a good thing we had, Boyd and I, where he could lead me and rule me so masterfully at times and then so easily bend to my wishes at others.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly, and I hoped he understood all that I was expressing gratitude for.

  His wink said he did.

  “I’m just surprised,” he added. “You’d really leave Pierce Industries?”

  “Why not?” I shrugged, a giddy grin on my lips. My body twitched with excitement and nerves, and I had to pace again to have a place to direct the energy. “There are a hundred different companies that would clamor for me. I’d include in my hiring requirements that I bring my own assistant and make sure there are no corporate policies banning fraternization among superiors and their subordinates. It could be a whole new beginning.”

  His eyes narrowed into dark pools. “You’re giving me such wicked fantasies about the kinds of fraternizing we could arrange.”

  “Be good.” I pointed a stern finger in case he was considering not being good. Honestly, I wouldn’t have required much convincing to join him in wickedness, but nothing about our relationship was official yet. I had to keep up pretenses.

  Boyd cocked his head, his gaze searching. “You love it here, Norma. You live for this place.” I could hear what he was really asking—are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you’re not.

  But I was surer than I’d been in a long time. “I do love it here. I’ve built my whole career on this company. I’d be very sad to have to go. But I can live without anything except you.”

  He held my gaze from across the room, and even though he didn’t need to say the words, he did. “I love you.”

  I breathed it in, let his love settle in my bones.

  Then, in mock Hudson fashion, I dismissed him. “Get to work.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  * * * *

  Two weeks later, Hudson still hadn’t given me a response, and the Christmas party was only days away. I’d expected that as the time approached I’d have second thoughts about leaving, and it had crossed my mind to give Hudson a little longer to figure things out. It was the holiday season, after all.

  But, really, I didn’t want to wait. I was ready. Not to leave my job, but ready to present Boyd as my other half. Every minute that passed, I was more excited about that than I was worried about what would happen in my career. I was actually surprised I’d been able to live so long with our relationship a secret.

  It was him I was thinking about when we met that Monday morning in conference room B for the weekly financials meeting. He was sitting right next to me, as he always did, taking notes as Hudson spoke, marking things on my calendar.

  Usually I was an active participant at these things. Today, perhaps because I was already pulling away in my mind, I was quiet, remembering instead the first time that Boyd had shown me his other side. It had been here, in this very room, my body stretched across this table. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel it, as if it were happening now. His breath on my thighs, the brush of his fingers on my pussy…

  A sharp jab of his elbow in my upper arm brought my attention back to the meeting. I glanced at Boyd, who, with his eyes, gestured for me to focus on Hudson.

  “…precedence to change the current corporate policy,” Hudson was saying.

  My brow furrowed as I tried to catch up.

  “My wife manages The Sky Launch nightclub,” he went on, “a company owned, for all intents and purposes, by Pierce Industries. While it might be a distant enough working relationship to be considered a moot point, I can see several situations where she might be hired on to work directly beneath me. In order to circumvent any issues that might arise from that, I’m amending the present fraternization standards.”

  Wait. What?

  I didn’t move, yet it felt like I was in the movies where everything all of a sudden went fuzzy except the people pertinent to the plot. The entire room full of peers and their assistants disappeared, and the only people left were Boyd and me, and this life-changing decree from Hudson.

  “Dating among supervisors and subordinates will still be disallowed to protect the company from sexual harassment lawsuits,” Hudson said, not even looking at me but addressing me all the same. “However, there will be no violation if the couple is married.”

  Under the table, where no one could see, Boyd grabbed my hand with his and squeezed.

  Hudson went on with his announcement, unimportant words and phrases that skated past me. I didn’t care what else he had to say—he’d found a way for Boyd and me to be together and still keep our current working arrangement. It was all I could do not to jump up from my seat and kiss him. Or, more tempting, kiss Boyd.

  Something about the way Boyd’s fingers linked with mine told me there would be plenty of kissing later on.

  It seemed like forever before Hudson wrapped things up. Finally, he said, “If there are any questions on this change, you can contact Bernie in Human Resources. Otherwise, the new policy will go out in formal documentation through an intra-office e-mail later this week.” He stood. “Meeting adjourned.”

  Neither Boyd nor I moved while the room cleared out, our hands still laced under the table. When there were only a few stragglers, deep in their own conversation, I turned to Boyd, unable to hold it in another second. “Civil ceremony?”

  His eyes danced with as much eagerness as mine. “We can follow up with something more formal later for friends and family. A small event in the Hamptons, perhaps.”

  “We only have five days until the Christmas party.”

  He shook his head, as though he’d already thought of that and had it under control. “I’ll start working on the arrangements as soon as we get back to the office. You h
ave a couple hours free on Friday afternoon. I’m thinking that could work.”

  Damn. I’d be married by the weekend. And I wouldn’t have to quit my job. And Boyd wouldn’t have to transfer. And he could continue being the perfect assistant and lover and, soon, husband!

  My vision clouded with excited tears. “Does this mean that we’re officially engaged?”

  With a ridiculously happy grin, Boyd nodded. “I guess it solves the problem of who’s going to propose.”

  I tightened my grip on his hand. “Oh, it was always going to be me.”

  Epilogue

  I hired another assistant a year later.

  Chelsea is a redheaded spitball of personality with excellent organization skills and dynamic interpersonal relations.

  She’s definitely no Boyd, and thankfully, Chelsea only had to cover for him for three months while he took a leave in order to be home to help our foster daughter get settled. Kira is a dark-skinned, three-year-old girl with a soft voice and big smile, despite the burns left on her face and arms from her abusive, meth-addicted biological mother. We’re in the process of adopting her, but she’s already ours in every way but blood.

  Now that she’s used to her new routine, Boyd works in the office for four hours a day while Kira’s at preschool. Then he rushes out to pick her up and take her to therapy and play group and just be a parent that’s there for her. Mr. Mom, I call him, which always earns me a spanking or two, so I’ll never stop.

  “I didn’t finish typing up Norma’s agenda for the conference next week,” I hear Boyd say today as Chelsea comes in to take the afternoon shift. “Can you finish that and then get her presentation ready?” Yep, still the best assistant ever. Always taking care of me.

  I stand from my desk and walk to the office door. Usually Boyd picks up Kira from school, but today, my brother Ben picked her up and took her out for a mini-uncle/niece outing. He must have texted that he’s on his way up if Boyd’s now getting ready to leave.

  Sure enough, not two minutes have passed when Ben arrives with my squirmy little girl.

  “Momma!” Kira says, reaching for me.

  “How’s my angel?” I say, lifting her for a hug. She’s a beautiful, strong girl with a long road ahead of her. The scars on her skin are only half her battle. The worst are the ones on the inside, but my siblings and I are both proof that those can be overcome.

  “I had I scream,” she says, tugging on my hair, and it’s so cute I can’t correct her.

  “Did you? It looks like you’re wearing ice cream.” I glare at my brother, who shrugs. It was a lighthearted glare, anyway. Clothes can be washed.

  I spend a few minutes catching up with my brother until Boyd and Chelsea remind me simultaneously, “It’s almost time for your one o’clock meeting.”

  “Jinx,” Chelsea says.

  “Momma has to get back to work,” I tell Kira. “But if you’re a good girl for Daddy, we can have story time when I get home. Okay?” I give her a big hug then wait for Boyd to finish buttoning his coat before I hand her over.

  “I’ll walk you down,” Boyd tells Ben, then presses a kiss to my cheek. “See you tonight, Mrs. Anders-Barrett. Don’t work too late.”

  “Or else…?” I ask playfully.

  He leans in so only I can hear. “If you want to be punished for something, I can punish you. You don’t have to be late for that to be arranged.”

  “I’ll leave on time,” I promise.

  He starts to walk away, but I grab his hand to stop him. “What?” he asks.

  And, at first, I just shake my head because I can’t speak. Because sometimes I get too full of emotion when I think about where I came from and how I got here—when I think about the person I thought I was and the person that Boyd taught me I could be. When I think about how the people I love most—my siblings, my husband, my child—have all found ways to not just survive, but be happy. Have shown me how to be happy. It’s a lot. A wonderful lot.

  Boyd is still staring at me, waiting for me to say something, so I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. That’s all.”

  “I can’t say I disagree,” he teases.

  I reach up to give him a chaste kiss on the lips—just because everyone knows that we’re married doesn’t mean we shouldn’t act appropriately. In public, anyway.

  Then this time I let him leave. I have work to do, as always. It’s a busy job being a woman at the top, and as they say, lonely. But only if you insist on always being on top.

  I’m one of the lucky ones who’s learned sometimes it’s better being underneath.

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  Chandler

  A Fixed Trilogy Series Spinoff

  By Laurelin Paige

  Coming September 20, 2016

  Click here to purchase.

  From the New York Times Bestselling author of The Fixed Trilogy and Hudson…

  I dominate the boardroom. I’m a Pierce—it’s what we do. But I never had a reason to bring that persona into the bedroom.

  Until Genevive Fasbender.

  She’s brash and bold and stubborn as hell, and she doesn’t believe it’s possible to satisfy her. But I’ve discovered her secret, one she hasn’t even figured out herself—she wants what I want.

  And not only does she want it—I'll make her need it.

  No matter what.

  * * * *

  Chandler is a standalone novel, set in the Fixed Trilogy universe. While characters from the Fixed Trilogy and Found Duet will be seen in this story, it is not necessary to have read them to enj
oy Chandler.

  “Can you manage to keep your dick in your pants for one night?”

  Hudson’s question is meant to grab my attention, and it does. To be fair, I heard most of what he’d said up to this point. The parts that were of interest, anyway.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t much.

  “Probably not. I don’t sleep in my pants, for one, and I do plan on sleeping.” I pull next to the valet podium at the Whitney Museum of Art, and add, “eventually,” because I know it will rile my brother up.

  His sigh is heavy with exasperation. “Can you keep your dick in your pants at the gala?”

  I grab my phone from its dock, automatically switching it out of Bluetooth mode, and bring it up to my ear. I pretend to consider as I step out of the car and button my tux jacket. “Hmm.”

  “Nice wheels,” the valet says, unconcerned that I’m on the phone.

  I pull out my wallet and flash a fifty-dollar bill. “Take care of her and this is yours.”

  “Yes sir, Mr. Pierce.”

  If Hudson were here, he’d wince at the recognition. It’s possible the valet knows me from the latest list of “Richest Men Under Thirty”—it’s the first year I’ve hit since I only got my trust fund when I turned twenty-four a few months back. But one look at the tattooed, pony-tailed Italian says he isn’t the type to read Forbes, which means he recognizes me from the gossip sites instead. Honestly, I don’t mind that I have a rep. It’s the elder Pierce who seems to care.