Officemate

by Katie Ashley

  “Is your silence confirmation that you’re plotting?” Mila asked.

  With a laugh, I replied, “No, that’s not it at all.”

  “But I thought we were on the same page.”

  “We are. I’m just going to need some time to come up with the subtle nuances to pull this off. There’s too much at stake professionally for me to just go off half-cocked, not to mention the guy’s dad is the president.” I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “You know that fact alone should give me reservation enough to not do anything to him. It’s never a good idea to intimidate a guy whose father could answer the question, ‘Yeah, you and what army?’ with an actual army.”

  Mila shook her head. “When it’s all said and done, I highly doubt President Callahan is going to dispatch the Army or the FBI over some issues his son has at work. He seems like a pretty fair and decent guy.”

  “He is. I mean, that’s what always I’ve heard, and I also met him briefly one day at work. That’s why it’s all the more puzzling that he has such a dick for a son.”

  “Sometimes there’s just a bad seed in the family.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Just promise me you’ll keep me in the loop while you’re planning.”

  “I promise. I might even run some ideas by you,” I replied.

  With a grin, Mila replied, “That would be awesome.”

  The waiter arrived with our food, and we started making a dent in our heaping plates of chicken burritos and rice. Something about the overload of carbs and tequila started to slightly elevate my mood. I supposed there was something to be said for comfort food.

  I had just swiped my mouth with a napkin when Mila said, “There is one thing I want to know.”

  “And what is that?”

  She jabbed her fork at me. “Have you given any thought to just how hot the angry sex could be between the two of you?”

  With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “As a matter of fact, I haven’t. I think it got lost somewhere between him seeing me topless and him being a giant tool.”

  “You said yourself he was gorgeous.”

  “He is, but—call me crazy—I don’t automatically get wet for douchebags.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. Maybe I had experienced a fleeting fantasy of Thorn on his knees before me, his face buried between my legs. Normally, I wasn’t into BDSM elements like making a man submit, but there was something about Thorn that made me want to dominate him both in and out of the office.

  Mila tsked at me. “I’m not buying it, Missy. You’ve thought about it.”

  Since I knew it was pointless to argue with her, I sighed. “Fine, I’ve thought about it. Are you happy?”

  She grinned. “Yes and no.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I’m happy to know I’m right, but at the same time, I’m sad at the possibility of none of your fantasies with Thorn coming true.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a twist over that. I can assure you I don’t plan on losing any sleep over never banging Thorn. Any sleeplessness brought on by him will come from me plotting to overthrow him.”

  Mila held up the remainder of her margarita. “Here’s to hostile takeovers.”

  I clinked my glass against hers. “To hostile takeovers.”

  Winking, she added, “Both inside and outside the office.”

  “You always just have to go one step too far, don’t you,” I grumbled before downing the rest of the fruity concoction.

  Chapter Six: Thorn

  Jesus. It had been a hell of a day, and it was only noon, but what did I expect when I’d felt and seen a pair of tits before nine a.m.? After Isabel flounced out of my office, I’d spent the rest of the morning working my way through the ins and outs of the coccyx massager, AKA The Tailsman. Slowly, the business knowledge that had been imparted to me during my undergrad and graduate degrees began to come back, and I started to feel a little more confident that I might actually be able to do this job.

  I was debating breaking for lunch when my phone buzzed. “Mr. Callahan, your brother is here to see you.”

  Fabulous. “Send him in.”

  Normally, I didn’t have a problem with Barrett. Even though we were polar opposites in both looks and personality, I still considered him one of my best friends. Sure, we’d tried to kill each other a few times when we were kids, but that was all part of normal childhood sibling rivalry.

  No, my irritation came from the fact that I felt he was coming to check up on me.

  With an MBA and years of experience at Callahan, Barrett was cock of the walk two floors above me. While I’d followed in our father’s military footsteps, a childhood heart defect had kept Barrett from enlisting. For most of his adult life, he’d been known more on Page Six for his partying and womanizing than he had for his business sense. Thankfully, he’d cleaned his act up over the last year.

  The door flung open, and Barrett came bounding into my office like an overeager puppy. His blue eyes twinkled with amusement. In a sing-song voice, he asked, “Hey, honey, how’s your day?”

  I chuckled in spite of myself. “It’s going well.” At the sight of the shopping bag in his hand, my brows rose in surprise. “Wow, you brought me lunch?”

  “Not just any lunch.” He waved the bag at me. “This shit is homemade.”

  I snorted. “Jesus, you really are becoming domesticated.”

  “What can I say? Addison enjoys taking care of her man’s needs above and below the waist.”

  Against all odds, my manwhore of a brother had met the woman he’d never dared to dream of—the one who had tamed his wild ways and hogtied him into monogamy. The deep family secret was that my dad had originally paid Addison to pretend to be Barrett’s fiancée to help his chances in the election. Somewhere along the way while helping my dad campaign, they’d fallen in love for real, and the bastard had shocked the hell out of me by getting engaged at Dad’s inauguration. I was slated to be the best man at his wedding in June.

  “For a self-respecting career woman, I’m surprised Addison would want to be tied up in apron strings,” I mused.

  With a roll of his eyes, Barrett replied, “It’s just some leftover lasagna and salad, Thorn. I hardly think she’s being oppressed by the patriarchy by cooking dinner a few nights a week.”

  “I’m glad to see she can embrace both her domestic and career sides.” With a genuine smile, I added, “You’re a very lucky man.”

  A goofy grin lit up Barrett’s face. “I am. I seriously am.” After wistfully staring into space for a moment, he shook his head. “Anyway, I have a present for you.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Since when are you anti-presents?” Barrett asked as he dipped his head and began riffling through the contents of the shopping bag.

  “I’m not. It’s just everyone is acting a little over the top about my first day here at the office. Dad called, and Mom sent me a box of Magnolia Bakery cupcakes—”

  Barrett jerked his head up. “Dude, don’t hold out on me with those cupcakes—you know they’re my favorite too.”

  “Would you focus?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled before rummaging in the bag again. After a few seconds passed, he cried out, “Aha!” He tossed a box on my desk then flopped down in the chair across from me.

  Curiosity got the better of me, so I reached forward to pick up the package. I snorted. “Am I really so hard to buy for that you got me a flashlight?”

  “That’s not a flashlight. It’s a fleshlight.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  Barrett chuckled. “Turn it over.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I replied, “I seriously do not have time for games.”

  “Fine. It’s a pocket pussy.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I think you heard me,” Barrett replied with a wicked grin.

  “Yes, but I was hoping I misunderstood you.”

  “Come on, Thorn. I know you’re an uptight guy
, but surely you’ve used a sex toy before.”

  “On a member of the opposite sex, yes, but not on myself.” Peering at the box more closely, I realized I had seen one of these before—okay, maybe more than one. Sex toys often made their way through camp during a deployment, and I’d seen several versions of the pocket pussy come from wives and girlfriends; I just didn’t have any experience with them myself.

  Barrett raked a hand through his dark hair. “I’ve noticed how tense you are lately. I can only imagine that, after your deployment and injury, it’s been a while for you. Since I know you’re not the kind of man I could arrange a hookup for, I went for the next best choice for tension relief.”

  “How kind of you,” I mused.

  “I try.” Barrett motioned to the box. “I also threw in a bottle of heated lube in case you were out.”

  “And here I thought you had changed your sex-crazed ways now that you’re engaged.”

  With a wink, he replied, “Being monogamous just means I just focus all my energy on one woman. Addison will also be benefitting from my shopping trip.”

  I opened my bottom desk drawer then picked up the fleshlight. “Well, thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

  “From what I hear happened this morning, you already have prime spank bank material.”

  I groaned as I slid the box into the drawer. “Yeah, I’d like to forget about that.”

  “Why? Ty said she had a fabulous rack.”

  Fuck yeah she does. In my mind, I could see those perky, round globes just like they were right back in front of me, those pale pink nipples…God, I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in her chest.

  “You have the hots for her!” my brother exclaimed.

  “I do not.”

  “Hell yes you do. You just totally zoned out in a sex fantasy.”

  Shit. I was going to have to make sure to keep my defenses up even when Isabel wasn’t around. Apparently, the mere mention of her was enough for someone to notice I was hot and bothered. “She’s my employee, Barrett.”

  “That just makes it even hotter.”

  Shaking my head, I replied, “A potential hookup or work romance with Ms. Flannery is completely out of the question.”

  “Why? You’re one of the big dogs. It’s not like you’d have to answer to anyone if someone found out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “In this case, it doesn’t help that I’m her boss. I might’ve been out of the country for the past year, but that doesn’t mean I’m not aware of the current climate when it comes to sexual harassment.”

  “Oh come on, Thorn. You’re a smooth, good-looking guy—I hardly think you’d have to blackmail her to get her to have a cup of coffee with you.”

  Shaking my head, I replied, “I’d be walking across an active landmine. At any moment, it could go off, and the repercussions could damage not only my reputation but Dad’s and that of his administration.”

  He grimaced. “Jesus, I hadn’t even thought of it that way.”

  “Which is why it’s a good thing you are happily engaged and not out potentially screwing up Dad’s presidency.”

  Barrett held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I agree. The last thing you need is a hot hookup with Ms. Flannery.”

  “I’m glad you could see the light.”

  Leaning forward in his chair, Barrett eyed me curiously. “What about a friends-to-lovers thing? Since you’re not one for random sex sessions, the two of you could have a slow burn.”

  “Barrett,” I growled.

  He laughed. “I’m just joking.” Rising out of his chair, he motioned to the table in the corner of my office. “I’m starving. What about you?”

  “Yeah, I could eat.”

  “Good. If you like the lasagna, I’ll have Addison make you a couple to freeze. She keeps asking me if there’s anything she can do for you now that you’re back home.”

  “While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m not completely helpless, especially since Mom hired a cook and housekeeper for me.”

  Wagging his brows, Barrett asked, “Either of them young and pert?”

  I snorted. “Not quite.”

  “Bummer. I should have figured she wouldn’t willingly hire you some hotties to fornicate with. She wants you marrying a nice girl and popping out some grandbabies.”

  “Why does she need that from me when you’re about to fulfill the fantasy for her?”

  “The marriage fantasy, yes, but not the grandbabies. Per Addison’s request, we’re going to be waiting a few years for any rugrats.”

  “I still can’t imagine you with a diaper bag slung over your shoulder or pushing a stroller.”

  “Wonders never cease, huh?”

  Chapter Seven: Isabel

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  Twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes—that’s exactly how long I’d been enduring Thorn’s presence. I’d started keeping track of the time in those increments after I’d made it through the first week, and I tended to sing it to the tune of Seasons of Love from Rent. Yes, relating to life in show tunes was the hazard of having a roommate who worked on Broadway.

  I’m sure you’re hoping that after the initial shock wore off about Thorn getting my promotion, I abandoned any ideas of sabotaging him, that I took the high road and rose above any petty, underhanded dealings. You’d be proud to know that at first, I did. I went back to lunch after work determined not to let him get to me. I went so far as to put on meditation music in my office.

  But then everything got shot to hell when I watched Thorn waltz out of the office at six o’clock while I remained slaving over projects. Here’s a little side note about investment banking: the hours are pure hell. They’re even more torturous when you’re first starting out. It’s why we have something unofficially known as the sleeping room. It’s actually an empty office that has space for you to catch a quick power nap when you’re pulling twelve- to fifteen-hour days.

  After I saw Thorn leaving, I scrambled out of my chair and hustled over to the door. As I caught sight of his retreating form, my fists clenched at my sides. Although it was highly doubtful he had actually cleared his workload enough to leave early, it was the last thing he needed to do. He should have been checking in on his associates and analysts. It was the type of thing that caused resentment among coworkers, especially when they had to pick up the slack.

  In that moment, I decided I just couldn’t let it go. I’d gone above and beyond to both welcome him and make things easier for him, and how had my good deeds been repaid? With utter contempt and absolute assholery. It was then that I embraced the idea that if sabotage was meant to happen, it would.

  Not long after, it did.

  I’d just consumed a quick, homemade lunch at my desk when I realized I had some paperwork that urgently needed Thorn’s John Hancock. With a groan, I peeled myself out of my chair and picked up the manila folder. When I got to his office, I found his secretary wasn’t at her desk, which was somewhat surprising since it wasn’t her lunch hour.

  After I peeked in the open door of Thorn’s office, I found the room empty. Instead of waiting on him, I decided to just leave the folder and shoot him a quick email about it. Crossing the room, I walked around the desk. After depositing the folder, I happened to glance over at his computer screen where he had an Excel document open.

  Interesting. I would have thought he’d lock his computer before stepping out of the office. I mean, anyone could come by and tamper with a document, which meant an entire morning’s worth of work could be lost—and yes, by anyone, I meant myself.

  I threw a quick glance over my shoulder. When the coast was clear, I hunched over the keyboard. After highlighting a huge block of figures, I hit undo before quickly saving it. It would take the IT department most of the afternoon to find Thorn’s lost work.

  With an evil laugh cackling in my head, I snatched the folder off the desk and headed to the door. When I poked my head out, neither Thorn nor his secretary was in sight. Exhaling a rel
ieved breath, I made my way back to my office. Once I was safely back behind my desk, I fired off a quick email to Thorn requesting for him to sign the documents.

  I didn’t have to wait long to hear back from him. Wherever he was, he was answering messages via his phone.

  Come to my office in five minutes.

  Okay, I typed back.

  It was safe to say that the next five minutes were the longest five minutes I could remember. It was impossible to get any work done. I’d like to say that as the time ticked by, I began to feel a little remorse for what I’d done, but sadly, I didn’t.

  Once the time was up, I grabbed the folder and headed out of my office. I was almost to Thorn’s door when I heard him shout, “No, no, NO! No fucking way!”

  Apparently, he had just discovered my handiwork. I glanced over at Alice, who was now back at her desk. “Is he okay?”

  “I’m not sure. He told me to send you in when you arrived.”

  I nodded before pushing my way inside. He stood in front of the computer with his hands wrapped around the back of his head. “Mr. Callahan?”

  He whirled around and pinned me with a panicked stare. “Is there a problem?” I questioned.

  “My fucking work is wiped.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He rolled his eyes. “The files I was working on this morning—half the information is now missing.”

  “I’m sure it’s just an oversight.” I walked over to him. “Did you open up the last saved version of the file?”

  “Of course I opened up the last saved version,” he replied in an exasperated tone. “It’s not fucking there.”

  Bending over, I feigned peering at the screen. I mean, I knew it wasn’t there, and it was going to take an act of the IT gods to get it back. “How much do you think is gone?” Righting myself, I looked at him. “You’ll need to see if IT can recover it, but unless you have autosave that’s also backed up to the server—”