Shy Girls Write It Better

by May Sage

  It wasn’t hard to guess how the catastrophic blunder had occurred; there had been two identical folders and she’d picked up the wrong one, which meant that her manuscript was in the hands of Trick or…

  She didn’t want to formulate the alternative, even in her own head. Suddenly, the little harmless fantasy she’d imagined in the bath made her sick to her stomach. Carter Harris, the boss’s boss’s boss, might really know that she wrote mommy porn.

  She tried to reason; whomever had ended up with her book, there was a good chance that he’d see it wasn’t the right document and dismiss it immediately without checking out what it was about. Hell, he might not even have had the time to open it up yet – the CFO and the CEO of a thriving Fortune 500 ought to be pretty busy guys, right?

  No excuse she came up with managed to ease up her worry. In the end, she just concluded that her ass probably was fired.

  She brushed her teeth as quickly as she could and threw some clothes on before running to the subway; when her heart had stopped beating against her chest, she just stood there in the busy car, dejected.

  In all honesty, she wasn’t certain she needed the job, her income as a writer was actually higher than her salary, but she hadn’t had any intention to resign anytime soon. The accounting gig was her security blanket in case her books were just a one hit wonder – a few months of success didn’t translate to financial security…

  But if she had no choice, in all honesty, she could probably get by. She’d saved a ton over the last few months – enough to invest in a handful of launches.

  That was, if she managed to write her next damn book.

  She wasn’t surprised to find Michelle pacing in front of her desk when she made it in at twenty past nine.

  “What time do you call this?” the woman shrieked, so loud everyone turned and stared. “Thank you for gracing us with your presence, Ms. Too Good For Us. I have asked for the report on last week’s overtime and you don’t even have the decency to...”

  “Michelle, I overslept,” she said, cutting off her tirade. She even managed to look into her eyes. “And I’m sorry I’m late. However, it’s the first time in one year, seven months and three weeks. And I’ve sent you that report last night before heading out. Now if you’d excuse me, I’d better get to work.”

  On that note, she walked around her and sat at her desk.

  Okay, so by that time her eyes were fixated on her tiptoes, but she’d said what she’d meant to at least. Progress.

  She breathed out confidently when her boss stormed out toward her lair without adding anything, until a voice she recognized called her name.

  “Ms. Franklin, in my office if you please.”

  Why did she recognize him without looking? She’d spoken to him exactly twice. But there was no doubt that it came from Carter Harris. He was standing in front of his temporary glass office, holding the door open. His face was unreadable, but the moment she saw it, Cassie was certain of two things.

  Firstly, it had been him and not Trick who had ended up with her manuscript. Secondly, he had read it. Which lead to the third point: she was inexorably very, very fired.

  Chapter 5

  How he managed to keep a straight face, he didn’t know. The poor woman was sitting in front of him with her hands knotted on her knees, on top of the folder she’d brought with her, eyes down, looking contrite like a naughty kid sent into the principal’s office.

  Painfully aware that a dozen people were looking at them through the translucent walls, not even bothering to hide it, he willed himself to remain professional at all cost.

  Damn, he was so close to cracking up.

  “So.”

  He left the word hanging between them without adding anything for a minute. When she stole a peek at him, he just couldn’t help shooting her an amused smirk.

  That surprised her; her wide eyes bulged on her pretty face.

  “Tame Me If You Can?”

  “I can explain.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, increasingly amused.

  “I found the content quite self-explanatory. I take it this is my contract,” he asked, pointing to the document sitting on her pretty legs, blocking his view.

  She wore something surprising today; not quite office-appropriate. The casual burgundy dress finished a good four inches above her knees, and was pretty form-fitting on her impressive rack. He approved. Almost as much as her messy hairdo; rather than the prim and proper usual style, she’d just pulled it into a messy bun. He didn’t even think she wore any make up. Strangely, she looked her age, for once, and she was considerably more sensual. This was probably how Cassie dressed outside of the office: effortlessly charming, casual.

  The women he frequented never looked like that. Ever. Probably because he took them to galas, formal dinners and art gallery openings. Cassie struck him as the kind who’d prefer a cinema date.

  Fuck. Why the hell was he thinking about dating, now? He didn’t do the whole dating thing. He had simple, straightforward arrangements that could be summarized in one simple sentence: he wined, dined and fucked his conquests. That was it. No room for cinema, or movie night on the couch with Buddy tucked between them on the sofa.

  Great. He’d even brought his damn dog into his stupid fantasy.

  “Yes,” she said, getting up to slide the folder on his side of his desk. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened…”

  “Simple mistake. Thank you for bringing it back, Cassie. You can get back to work.”

  He watched her with amusement as she hurried towards the door, before slowing down and turning back to him.

  “Excuse me, sir?”

  Oh, sweetheart. Don’t call me sir.

  After reading her admittingly poor attempt at writing BDSM, he couldn’t help imagining all kind of naughty things when that word passed her lips.

  Please, sir, may I be allowed to come on your tongue?

  “Yes, Cassie?”

  His voice was intense, thick with forbidden desires, and she must have heard it because she looked up. Good. He liked when she met his eyes – which wasn’t often.

  The fleeting moment passed too soon.

  “My… manuscript. You have my manuscript, sir.”

  “Yes. Yes, Cassandra, I do have your manuscript,” he replied, smirking again.

  On that note, he opened up the contract and started working, silently dismissing her.

  Gosh, she was fun to play with. But he was going to have to drop the scary façade if he ever wanted her to chill out enough to enjoy her time around him.

  Operation Friends-With-Cassie would be underway shortly.

  For once, Cassie was delighted that her job could have been done by a chimpanzee; she functioned on automatic pilot. She was solely running on caffeine, which didn’t help, but to be entirely honest, even at the top of her form, she wouldn’t have known what to make of the recent events.

  On the abysmal side, all her nightmares had come true. Her book – her very explicit book, she might add – had gone to the sexiest, most intimidating man she knew, a guy who’d been named pretty high up on the list of Hottest Man Alive seven years in a row. On the plus side, apparently, and despite the fact that Mr. Hot Pants was her boss, she still had a job. On the bizarre and incomprehensible side of the scale, the man still had the damn manuscript.

  Things went from confusing and peculiar to super extra weird when, two days later – after the executives had finally relocated back to their own floors – she heard footsteps, and turned to find a smiling Carter Harris in front of her desk.

  God, no man should be allowed to look quite so handsome; the dark hair, usually brushed away from his face and parted on the side, was a little bit messy, curlier than usual, and the two top buttons of his shirt were open, giving her a peek of his muscular chest.

  She might have licked her lips before redirecting her gaze on her desktop, guessing that the CEO was most probably there to see someone high up.

  Michelle was on him withi
n seconds, she saw her from the corner of her eyes; she had her scariest fake smile plastered on her recently botoxed lips.

  “Mr. Harris. How may I help you?”

  “You may not. Ms. Franklin and I have some business to discuss.”

  That got her to look up. Michelle stood there, mouth opened in shock as she stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

  “Personal business,” he added. “I believe we’re close to your lunchtime, Cassie?”

  She nodded, ignoring the way her direct boss glared daggers at her.

  Don’t ask me, I have no clue what’s happening.

  “Ms. Franklin and I are part of the same book club,” he said to her boss as a way of explanation. “I thought she might discuss the last book we read with me.”

  His eyes were twinkling with unconcealed mischief, making her wonder what the heck he had up his sleeve.

  She grabbed her handbag and got to her feet, acting like she had a clue about what their CEO was up to. They made their way throughout the room in silence and somewhere between her desk and the elevator, he put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently.

  Fuck. She felt that touch down to her clit, electrifying her inside like nothing else ever had, even the purple rabbit she had a long, committed relationship with.

  The man was dangerous for her sanity.

  The elevator opened its door on the last floor, but it might as well have been another universe. Gone were the stylish, colorful, and simple plastic chairs, the modern glass and metal theme she’d observed everywhere else in the building. The décor was darker – grey walls, warm woods, plush leather chairs. She frowned in confusion.

  “This is where we meet all our partners,” he said, correctly interpreting her surprise. “Trick seems to think that the dreary interior makes me seem more intimidating.”

  Right; because he needed help in that department.

  Or not.

  He guided her past the empty reception desk, to one of the two doors, and opened it in front of an office that must have taken over half of the floor. Damn, it was huge.

  Her eyes just couldn’t leave the floor to ceiling window; suddenly, she understood why everyone made such a fuss about accommodations on top of Manhattan – the view was incredible.

  “I see you approve.”

  His hand still hadn’t left her back, but his hold was light, casual. He advanced until they were right in front of the window, and she caught herself before putting both hands on the glass, to check it was really there; the material was so transparent it almost looked like they were standing in open air.

  “How does it feel?” she asked, turning to him, and just meeting those intense grey eyes for an instant before returning to the view. The immensity in front of her was less intimidating than the man next to her, at least. “To stand at the top of the world.”

  “Today? Pretty good.”

  Chapter 6

  How did it feel?

  If he was entirely honest, he’d never stopped to ponder it. He’d been ordinary for his first twenty-something years, then, primarily thanks to Trick, he’d built his company doing what he loved, and expanded. Somewhere along the line, maybe seven years ago, he stopped being just Carter, the boy from Brooklyn, and became someone people he’d never met knew about.

  He knew everyone he met wanted something out of him; favors, money, a job, connections. The worse thing was, he didn’t usually care – he spent the majority of his time working, and when he was free to do as he please, he had every luxury money could buy at his disposal, and the most beautiful women on his speed dial, ready to entertain him on demand.

  His life was good; but yeah, most days, it didn’t really feel like it. The thing with being at the top of the pyramid was that you often end up being there alone.

  He had Trick, he had his parents, and there were a handful of business associates he counted as friends; he saw them every week. But truth was, unless he needed to fuck, make a social appearance, or work, he was alone with Buddy, his puppy.

  When had it started to feel like it wasn’t enough?

  He’d been sincere, though. Today, he was good. He’d been excited since he’d finished reading her manuscript the previous night, waiting with anticipation until he could legitimately send Trick on an errand and get her alone. That was going to be fun; the kind of fun he hadn’t had in years.

  “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll be delighted to retrieve this,” he said, grabbing her stack of papers from his desk.

  She stared at it, biting her lips, visibly anxious for something to say. Finally, she replied, “I have it saved on a stick, but thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. It was entertaining; and rather well written, too, although do women really babble to themselves quite so much?”

  A wayward smile slipped on her lips, firmly discrediting his previous opinion; the woman wasn’t cute, or adorable. She was beautiful.

  “The quiet ones do. For every word I say, I probably think a good hundred.”

  “Jesus, that sounds tiring.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Her smile soon dissolved, as though she’d suddenly caught herself, probably realizing that she was speaking to her boss, and she dropped her damn eyes back down.

  That wouldn’t do.

  “Cassie, I’ll be entirely honest with you. I like your book. I like the fact that you’ve published three other successful ones while working for me. Hell, I respect you for it. It means that you’re an ambitious go-getter, not afraid of a huge workload. That makes me curious about you. From one self-employed entrepreneur to another, I’d like to be friends.”

  There it was, all his cards on the table. Halfway through his speech, she’d started staring at him with her mouth hanging open in shock, and she still hadn’t stopped.

  “You want to be friends. With me,” she clarified, visibly astonished.

  “Yes, Ms. Franklin, if you find it acceptable,” he said formally, smiling to make her laugh.

  It worked; she chuckled a little.

  “It’s… unexpected.”

  She looked suspicious, like she was trying to work out an angle.

  “Anyway, you’ll see a few notes here and there – I hope you don’t mind, I’ve taken the liberty to share some of my thoughts.”

  A frown marred her features, and she opened the manuscript, quickly skipping to his first notes. Confusion slowly disappeared, replaced by intrigue. Absentmindedly, and without a word, she grabbed one of his Mont Blank pens from his desk, then sat down on the chair opposite his, and went to work.

  It was fascinating; he watched her for who knew how long as she amended things, completely focused on the work at hand.

  Every now and then, she’d speak, asking him to clarify something he’d annotated without even raising her head.

  “What do you mean by describe when she gets to his office?”

  “There’s no indication about their surroundings at all, it doesn’t feel natural.”

  She nodded before scribing furiously, lost in her world.

  At twelve, Lucy, his assistant came back from lunch; as instructed, she’d brought back two club sandwiches from the deli down the road.

  “Cassie?”

  “Mh?”

  “There’s some food here. Are you vegetarian?”

  She shook her head, ignoring him. Half amused, half perplexed, he found himself cutting pieces and setting food on a plate. Still absently, she pushed the food past her lips, eating on autopilot. She didn’t drink until he pushed her cup of coffee close enough for her to see it next to her manuscript. Jesus, the girl was a danger to herself. Did she lose herself like that at home when she wrote? Or… was there someone to make sure she was appropriately fed and watered?

  “Cassie?”

  “Uh?”

  “Cassie, it’s one. We’ve been up here for a while now.”

  That got her attention. She got on her feet at the speed of light.

  “Fuck!” she cursed,
making him smile, because he would never have imagined the word crossing her lips. “Michelle’s going to fire my ass.”

  “Nonsense,” he replied, amused – she seemed to have forgotten she was speaking to her CEO. “I’ve let her know I’ve detained you.”

  She stopped and for the first time, when she looked at him, she held his gaze, visibly trying to read something there. Used to scrutiny, he kept his expression neutral, but to be frank, her observation unsettled him. What was she making of him?

  “This,” she said, holding her papers up. “What you’ve done is amazing. I’d offer to pay you if I could afford your consultancy fees.” She cracked a grin he couldn’t do anything but return. “Thank you. I…”

  She closed her pretty lips and nibbled at it.

  “Spell it out.”

  “I’d like to understand why you’re helping me. And I’d like to know how to thank you, too.”

  Both questions were equally helpful in figuring out who Cassie was. She was the kind of person who did things herself; she wasn’t too proud to accept help, but when it came, she didn’t expect it or take it for granted. In short, she was the opposite of every woman he’d gone out with over the last decade or so.

  “Do you bake?”

  Her nod didn’t surprise him.

  “My consultancy fee is home baked goods. And I helped because we’re friends, Cassandra. Remember?”

  “Friends,” she repeated with wonder, like it was a foreign word she was saying for the very first time. “Okay then.”

  Chapter 7

  Friends. Carter Harris was her friend. And she owed him baked goodies.

  “Fuck me sideways,” she muttered on her way down to her office.

  She probably said it a little too loud, because the guy she was sharing the elevator with gave her a funny look.

  The new development didn’t make a blink of sense to her. Unless…

  She dismissed her thought immediately. If a friend of hers had told her about a man behaving like Carter just had, she would have concluded that he must be interested in her. But it was Carter Harris – she was Cassie Franklin. End of story.