“How does one just move to Moscow and become an escort to the most powerful men in society?”
“That’s a question you’ll have to ask Miss Taylor.” He raised a brow. I found that highly suspicious. No one had access to politicians and the powerful like that without some connection. No one.
“Will you be pursuing extradition?"
“We have already contacted Moscow for the release of any British citizens wrongfully arrested at the riot."
"How many other British women are being held in Moscow prison as a result of the riot?”
“I am not at liberty to say.”
“What was Sarah’s role in the protest.”
"Miss Taylor surfaced on a motherhood forum several weeks ago. She began calling for action against the Russian government. Nothing shocking, equal pay, fair treatment, that sort of thing. Then she and several other accounts started organizing this march to go along with what they called a ‘red wave.’ They encouraged women to refuse to buy anything and also not comply with any of their traditional roles.”
“Like, housework?” Celeste asked. He nodded.
I looked to Celeste, encouraging her to take over. “There is footage of Sarah Taylor alluding to human trafficking. Can you comment on the upcoming international games and the steps you're taking to control this?”
"I assure you, we do everything within our legal right to prevent the unlawful trafficking of humans, objects, and substances.”
“Such as.”
“Respectfully, that's classified.”
I cut in, “But you acknowledge that it is a real problem, exacerbated by international sporting events?"
“The official statement on this matter is listed on our website.”
“You’re not helping yourselves with these vague answers.”
“It is not within our jurisdiction to meddle in Russian affairs.” Mr. Roberts folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair.
Celeste’s eyes narrowed. “Does this mean you will not be pursuing extradition? As we see it, Sarah Taylor was wrongfully arrested."
“She incited a riot.”
“Can you tell us which forum and account she used to do so?”
The diplomats looked at one another, “Not at this time.”
Celeste pulled out her phone and the cries of women being shot at and gassed made everyone sit just a little bit straighter. “This is an image of Sarah Taylor being beat during her arrest. Are you going to allow the Russians to treat your citizens like this?”
Silence.
They weren't interested in giving us anything that wasn't already on social media. I stood and tapped Celeste on the shoulder. She gathered all of her things and stood with me. I looked them in the eyes and said plainly, “We will be publishing the preliminary story tonight, then a comprehensive paper on the state of women’s rights sometime tomorrow. I hope that the government comes to their senses and decides on protecting women, both foreign and domestic.”
I gave Celeste a gentle push at the small of her back and followed her out of the room. Once we were in the car, I turned to her. “We need to stay on their good side at least until we get an interview with Sarah Taylor.”
“Bastards want to spin a narrative as if they give a shit. They’re jerking us around. Why? What are they hiding?” Celeste shook her head in disgust.
“The real question is… Why is Sarah Taylor in the middle of this?"
“Exactly. What does she know that we don’t?” Celeste’s frown deepened and she flipped through her notes on the meeting.
CHAPTER 15
Celeste
Isaac and I went straight to Michael’s office. He gave us the green light to publish a preliminary report and also a short article tonight about the riot. I sprawled our research out on Isaac’s office floor and had a momentary panic attack over the sheer amount of work ahead of us. Everyone in the office spent the time we were away screenshotting anything they thought would be useful and sending it over in print and email.
Isaac and I worked in silence for hours, clicking away at our laptops and only pausing to stretch our aching backs and necks.
Our co-workers stopped by our office on the way out to encourage us and make suggestive jokes about our first all-nighter together. We laughed off the teasing without ever catching each other’s gaze. The jokes were innocent and universal in our field, but I’d seen Isaac nearly in the buff just this morning and it made my stomach flip flop when I remembered his chiseled chest.
Around seven we’d already written our short article about the riot and uploaded it to the website. Deep into our preliminary report an hour later Isaac was restless across the room and his frustrated growls were coming too frequently to be ignored. “Are you okay over there?” I was sitting cross-legged, shoes off, on the floor with my laptop on his couch, my diagram and research a semicircle of information around me.
“I can’t look at this screen anymore. My eyes keep jumping off the page.”
My stomach grumbled. “I’m starving. Go out and get something for us to eat and I’ll review what you’ve got so far while you’re gone.”
He stood and rolled up his sleeves while he paced. “I finished the financial portion. I’m into the industrial section now.”
“Take your time, you need a break.”
“So do you,” He shoved his wallet in his pocket and glanced at me.
“No way, I’m in the zone.” I took a deep breath stretched my hands above my head, flashing him a smile. I stood up and yelped at the pain in my knees from sitting so long. My joints cracked and screamed at me. I felt the blood rush into veins that had been cut off for an entire evening.
Isaac’s gaze consumed me as I stretched and he passed me to leave. “You could work in your office. I’m going to speech-to-text when I get back.”
“It’ll take too long to set up in there. I can’t break my concentration. I’ll put my earbuds in.” He watched as I twisted my spine and plopped back down, this time onto his sofa, laptop on my thighs. “Do you want to take my credit card?” I asked.
“Thankfully, I never take my wallet to the gym,” he answered, tilting his head, crooked grin daring me to respond. Isaac stood in the doorway for a moment, the rise and fall of his chest the only thing moving in the room. My mind went blank and it was a Herculean struggle to look away from him. I felt the air get thick with suggestion, his statement a gentle reminder of what had happened earlier. What I'd seen. How I’d felt.
The day had taken a sharp turn after the whole seeing-my-closest-colleague-in-the-buff thing. We’d become so engrossed in our work we hadn’t broached the subject all day. It even seemed like a distant memory, like I’d dreamed it all up. Not even my wildest fantasies could have dreamed up the two seconds I gawked at him.
Isaac left with a chuckle.
Shifting uncomfortably, I turned back to my screen intent on finishing, but called Kieran to bring me a change of clothes instead. She appeared half an hour later with a pair of leggings, a tank top, and a large loose cardigan that reached my thighs. “Thank you, thank you.” I locked the door behind her.
“Where’s Isaac?” She looked around.
“He went out to get food.” I stripped down. The pure relief that came from removing a pair of high-waisted trousers was unparalleled.
“Ooo,” she cooed, “romantic.” Kieran waggled her brows.
“Hardly,” I responded dryly.
“Nobody ever comes out of an all-nighter the same.” Kieran's green eyes sparkled with mischief.
“And you would know?” I shot her a side-long glance.
Kieran moseyed about the office, inspecting the folders of paper and the chaos of Isaac’s desk. “Well, you’re slipping into something more comfortable, he’s getting dinner. You’re working late, everyone’s a little delirious.” Kieran laughed as I rolled my eyes. “I wish I was doing an all-nighter with Isaac. Mmm, what I’d do to that man.”
“Kieran! He’s coming back any minute.”
I shushed her while pulling the tank top over my head, more flustered than I should let on.
“Maybe he’ll unbutton his shirt a little. You know, roll up his sleeves to really get into the work.” She motioned with her hands as if grabbing a pair of tits while jerking her hips.
“Shut up!” I couldn’t stop my nervous laughter. I already knew what his chest looked like, and I covered my face to erase the image, only for the memory of his muscular legs to burn brightly against the blackness of my closed lids.
“You’re blushing a little,” she pointed to my chest.
“Stop.” I pleaded. “You’re making me uncomfortable. You know I turn red at everything.”
“Uncomfortable how?” She chuckled, sauntering over to me.
“I don’t look at him like that.”
Liar.
“How are things? Has he stopped being all high and mighty?”
I considered her question. “He’s nothing like what you said he would be like. We’re basically working in silence and he doesn’t critique my writing at all. If anything, it’s the other way around.”
“Interesting.”
“Maybe it’s just because our deadline got moved up two weeks and we have to finish by Sunday at the latest."
“Maybe it’s because you’re as much of a passionate nerd as he is.” Kieran kissed my cheek and unlocked the door. “You should both just come home. I have a spare room for him.”
I considered it for a moment.
I heard her greet Isaac from a distance and I leaped to the couch, pulled on my glasses, and clicked away nervously at the keys of my laptop. For whatever reason, I didn’t want him to catch me not working. It was so silly. I didn't think he’d mind catching me relaxing.
But I didn’t feel relaxed. I felt nervous.
“You look comfortable.” Isaac’s voice trickled up my core, the feeling of one hundred little legs racing up my spine. My stomach growled once the delicious smell of molten cheese and bread reached my nose.
“I'm fucking starving,” I replied. I shook away the ridiculous nerves bundled in my chest and let my stomach lead the way.
“Let’s eat in your office.”
“Good idea.” I laughed as we both scanned all of the covered surfaces in his office.
§ Isaac §
Celeste had pulled her hair up into a messy ball atop her head. Her glasses were on, which indicated she’d changed out of her contacts. I wished she’d kept those in because the dark rims that framed her eyes, pulled me back into her gripping beauty. I needed to focus, and it was much easier when she was buttoned up and predictable. Having her perched across her desk, devouring pizza like a frat boy at a kegger in that ridiculously enormous cardigan… that was not conducive to keeping my thoughts on the straight and narrow. I felt wrong, seeing her relaxed and ravenous, suddenly losing my appetite for food and awakening my appetite for her.
It was a side of her I hadn’t seen, and it made a piece of my sanity pull away and dissolve into the ether. That was the only explanation for what fell out of my mouth next. “You never answered my question earlier.” I teased.
“What question?” She blotted her lips with a napkin and reached for a second slice.
I opened my mouth to ask her if she had liked what she saw, but shut it, coming to my senses. Shut up, you wanker. I stuttered a bit before lying, “How far have you gotten?”
She smiled brightly and swallowed. I followed the way her hand covered her lips and then her throat while she ate. “I am about halfway done with the first draft. I don’t think we should even touch on China and the Middle East beyond the sex trafficking and drug roads. I started writing it out, but it distracts from the women’s issues.” She waved her pizza around and I tried to remember a time when she talked with her food like that before. She didn’t. She hadn’t… not before.
She was mirroring my body language.
I was rubbing off on her.
“Isaac, are you listening? What do you think?” She raised her brows showing her irritation.
“I agree. You’re right.”
Celeste grinned. “Oh? Really?”
“Yes, your majesty. You’re right.” I exaggerated a bow of my head to her.
She laughed. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over my disbelief.” She cupped a hand to her ear.
“I have no problem admitting when you’re right.”
She gave me a look before tearing into her slice again.
“What's that look for?”
“Well, I know that I’m right and that my way is better. But you haven’t yet mentioned it. I distinctly remember you putting up a fight when I painted your keys.”
“I’ve said many times that you’re brilliant at your job.” I retorted.
“Oh, that's true, but not that I’m right.” She chuckled.
“That’s simply not true.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” She smiled into her coke and closed her eyes as she drank.
“Whatever you say, scribe.” I tossed my balled-up napkin at her and she yelped. I left her giggling in her chair. She tossed the napkin back and missed by a mile. It landed in front of me, and I picked it up. “For someone who works for an environmentally conscious organization you should know littering is wrong.” I threw it back and she deflected it with her hands.
She was laughing openly, now, a rare sound I wanted to bottle up and play on repeat for hours. “For a man working for women’s rights and equality you should know throwing a dirty napkin at one is rude.”
“I’m hurt by that.” I caught the napkin she threw and tossed it into her bin at the foot of her desk.
“Get back to work.” She yelled through her laughter. I laughed with her and had to turn away and get back to my desk before I abandoned our project altogether just to play with her.
“Yes, boss.” I teased before plopping down and opening my file.
She emerged a few minutes later and smiled at me before turning to her computer. She sighed, put in her earbuds and I wondered what kind of music she listened to. I resisted the temptation to ask.
The time raced against me. I both hated and loved a close deadline. I was better at focusing, but worse at the actual writing and reading. I used speech-to-text or dictated to an assistant. But Celeste was busy with her end of the paper. So, I was forced to use technology that was less reliable than Celeste. She'd have to go back over all this.
I glanced over at her. She didn’t take her eyes from her screen and her hands moved at the speed of light across the keyboard. Somewhere around three in the morning she pulled her earbuds out and our eyes met.
“I can’t look at this screen anymore,” Celeste said, admitting defeat.
“We have to finish this.” I hated saying that to her when she was so obviously exhausted.
She pulled off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “My writing is turning to shit, Isaac. I have to stop.”
“I highly doubt it’s more shit than mine. I don’t think I’ve written a coherent sentence in an hour.” I stood and went to her. She scooted over and I sat down next to her. She covered a yawn. “Read me the shit.”
She started reading, bleary-eyed and monotone. The weight of me next to her caused her to sink into me and I could tell she was too tired to care that we touched everywhere, from our shoulders to our knees. Her elbow poked me a few times as she corrected mistakes and shifted the laptop half onto my leg, half on hers. I took it away from her altogether.
“Go take a nap.” I cut her off. Our eyes met, and I had to fight the feeling of intimacy between us. The way I yearned for this touch to turn into something… more.
She shook her head. “We’ve been at this for,” she counted on her fingers, “Twelve hours. Let’s pack up and take it to Kieran’s.” She yawned, pushed against my leg and stood.
I watched her stretch, the enormous cardigan hiding the beautiful arch of her back from me. “I’ll stay here. I’m not tired yet. I'll go home when I’m done.”
Celeste s
tarted gathering our things. “No, let’s take it all to my place and work from there. Kieran already said it’s okay.”
I hesitated.
“I’ll go to sleep. You write. When you go to sleep, I’ll be up and editing your draft. By the time we're both up, it’ll be almost done.”
It was the most efficient set up. “Let’s stop by my flat for a minute so I can get some clothes.”
“Again?” She chuckled through another yawn.
“Do you want to pick my outfit?”
“I’ll stay in the car.” I helped her gather all of our things. We discussed the work while I drove to my flat and then to hers.
Celeste flicked the lights on and kicked off her shoes. “Let me show you your room first, but we’ll work in the dining room.” She crossed the lavish entryway and pushed open two French doors, revealing a table that could fit ten easily.
“I had no idea Kieran came from this much money,” I whispered. I felt out of place in this part of town.
Celeste dropped all of her bags and files on the table. “It's easy to get used to.”
I followed her quietly to the staircase and forced my hands to the bannister. My fingertips tingled in tandem with my imagination, vivid pictures of following her into her room and feeling the softness of her skin beneath me.
“I think Kieran is home,” Celeste whispered at the landing, “but she’s on the third floor, so we won’t know until tomorrow.”
I took another step, closing the gap between us. I shouldn't have, but I did. Another step and I’d be on the landing with her. Like this she was at eye level, her face shadowed so that I couldn’t read her expression. “You mean later,” I whispered.
She let out a breathy laugh, “This is my room, you can pick either of the other ones on this floor. Bathroom is on the left.”
Her body language shifted. Celeste backed up and leaned against her door, her hands hidden behind her on the doorknob, pushing her hips out towards me. I followed, crossing the last step, acting as if I was peeking down the hallway. A pool of streetlight from the window to our right illuminated her cheeky grin. Suggestive. Enticing. I felt the space between us brighten with electric fire. She was sleepy and overworked. Her guard completely down. No man could resist pushing against her last defense, not when she bit her bottom lip like that, suppressing her smile.
See You Monday: An Office Romance (Weekday series Book 1) Page 12
