“No, it’s really all right, Mr. Scott. I’ll get a cab.” I look around for one, and thanks to my luck, the street is empty.
“Just get in the car, Darcy.”
“No, I’m really—”
“NOW!” he demands, his voice blistering with rage. I get it instantly; he’s embarrassed. I walk to the car reluctantly, get in, and buckle my seat belt, my eyes glued to the window.
Benjamin presses the button to summon Dimitri. “Miss Fontaine’s apartment.”
“Yes, sir.”
The entire car ride is spent in unbearable silence. I can feel the sizzling heat leaping off of him. I want to apologize, but I fear I’d just get more anger from him so I keep silent.
“I’m right here,” I inform him when we approach my dilapidated building on the left side of the street.
“Here, Dimitri.” He lets go of the button and turns to look at me for the first time since we left the restaurant. His eyes are distant, and for some strange reason, it makes my stomach churn with fear.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Mr. Scott. Thank you for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.”
Dimitri opens my side and I step out, flashing him a pitiful smile en route to the stairs, desperate to be alone in my apartment where my stupid mouth can do no more harm to my career.
***
“I don’t know how I could have been so stupid, Doris.”
“Sweetheart, he seems pretty taken with you by what you’ve told me. I mean, he has never done this with any of his employees. But he is still your boss. I would be extremely careful of forming an attachment to him.” She sighs heavily. “Although it seems you already have, haven’t you?”
That’s what I fear. I fear even imagining that my feelings will grow further for this man.
“I just have a hard time understanding what he does with these women, what he wants from them.”
“Some people have no respect for themselves, Darcy. Obviously you do. He probably saw that, which is why he acted so upset when you disapproved of him.”
“I’m worried I’m going to lose my job. What should I do?”
“You have two options. You can apologize or you can act like it never happened, though neither guarantees you your job. Unfortunately, that’s a big reason why you don’t get close to the people you work with.”
I nod to myself, knowing full well that she’s right and way too sweet to me. I fucked all of this up.
I glance at the clock; it’s nearing midnight. “I’m sorry to call you so late. I just couldn’t sleep until I talked to someone about it.”
“Of course, darling. Feel free to call at any time. Between you and me, I think he deserved to hear those things.”
***
Google does nothing to help my nerves. As soon as I type in his name, hundreds of articles arise showcasing his many short-lived rendezvous with rich actresses and models, all stunningly beautiful.
Benjamin Scott is the ultimate catch. He’s kind, gorgeous, giving, successful. Who wouldn’t want a fleeting dalliance with him?
Me. That’s who. He’d destroy me for all other men. I’d become a mewling ailurophile who watches soaps for the rest of my life if he just used me and left me like that. I couldn’t care less about the dinners or the theater. I just want him.
I slam the computer shut, unable to look at it any longer, and climb into my bed with the intent to start anew tomorrow.
I’m tossing and turning restlessly when a loud knock raps at my door. I sit up, moving the covers aside. Silent as a mouse, I creep across the cold wood floor to look through the peephole in my front door, knowing that it’s far too late for the usual visitor.
“Who is it?”
“Benjamin.”
No.
My mouth hangs in horrified disbelief and I look around frantically at my one-room apartment, my bed right next to the kitchen. I’m in my ugly sweatpants and baggy rock t-shirt PJs. What the hell is he doing here?
With a grunt, I unbolt the heavy door, swinging it open to reveal my surprisingly anxious boss. He’s in dark jeans and a blue V-neck shirt. The casual combination looks absolutely and completely mouthwatering on him. God, he could wear anything and he’d be beautiful.
And here I am, looking a mess in a small, crappy apartment.
“May I come in? I’m sorry it’s so late. I saw your light on.” I step aside and he enters, looking around at my living space. “It’s…cozy.”
“It suits me fine,” I respond, looking anywhere but at him.
“I like this.” He points to my library of books that take up a whole wall. “I guess you really weren’t kidding when you said you read day and night.”
My dreamy boss is in my apartment at two in the morning looking at my collection of books. Is this a dream? It has to be.
He scans a row of them and I wonder again why the hell he’s here.
“Can I get you something to drink? I’m afraid my wine is not as good as the restaurant’s. I have soda and water too.”
“No, no. I’m fine. I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted tonight.”
He’s apologizing?
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have judged your lifestyle. It was improper and unprofessional of me. I won’t get involved in your personal life again.” I gulp when his brow furrows. “I am your employee and you are my boss. I think it’s best if we keep our relationship strictly professional.”
“Why did what I said bother you so much, Darcy? You aren’t even looking at me the same.”
“Mr. Scott, I mean it. I don’t think we should talk about this. We should act like it never happened.”
“I can’t act like it never happened. I need to know,” he presses, sitting down on the corner of my bed.
He’s on my bed. He’s on my fucking bed!
“It seemed like that’s what you were trying to do to me—seduce me so I’d sleep with you. You had me at the dinner already, I was smitten, and what? You were going to fuck me into tomorrow and leave?”
His eyes widen. “You were smitten? You thought we were on a date?”
I can hardly speak. “No…I mean, yes. God, I don’t know, Benjamin.”
“I was taking you out to dinner. Did I ever once give you the impression I wanted to fuck you and leave you? You’re my assistant.”
I nod slowly, trying to conceal the embarrassment that feels like a knife twisting in my chest. “Well, you’ve put me in my place, Mr. Scott. I hear you loud and clear.”
“Hear what?” He stands and walks over to the fridge, retrieving the wine I offered previous to this odd twist of events.
“What are you doing? No, you’re not staying. I’d like you to leave.” I point to the door.
“Hear what, Darcy?” he repeats, grabbing two wine glasses from my cupboard.
“That you would never date someone like me. I get that. But you sitting here, acting like you felt nothing during our dinner, trying to make me look like I’m fucking ridiculous, is just low.”
“I never said I wouldn’t date someone like you. I also never said I didn’t feel anything at our dinner. I said you’re my assistant and it would be stupid for me to get involved with you.” He pours the glasses nonchalantly while I gawk his way, flabbergasted.
I try to shut my mouth as he turns to offer me the glass.
“You’re stunning, Darcy…in every way,” he whispers, bringing the rim of the wine glass to his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. I don’t know what to say, what to do. I’m paralyzed here, transfixed by the large emerald shapes carved into his face, their attention unwaveringly still on my face.
“W-What?”
“I just sat up half the night thinking about you. You beguile me. The way you challenge me, your honesty. It’s very attractive.”
He takes the cup out of my hand and sets both of them on the table and then proceeds to step forward, ending up dangerously close to me. Too close.
Shit. Shit. Double shit.
/>
He lifts his hand to my face and brushes his finger beneath my eye. “You’ve been crying.”
Blushing profusely, I drop my gaze to the floor, unable to handle watching him observe me so intently.
“Please, don’t do this,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“I couldn’t stop thinking of your body. I was lying up, dreaming I could touch you.” He cups my jaw gently and pulls his head down terrifyingly close to mine. His breath smells of mouthwash and wine. It intoxicates me. I’m completely drunk on him. “Feel your lips.” He presses the soft pad of his thumb against my quivering lip.
I’m breathing loudly now, completely at his mercy. There’s no fight left in me whatsoever.
“Kiss you,” he whispers, his mouth nudging mine searchingly. His lips are smooth and naturally plump, perfectly formed. He brushes them over mine, teasing my mouth to open to him before he really dives in, pushing his lips brutally into mine.
Holy fuck. He can kiss.
I open my mouth willingly to his waiting tongue, moaning in acceptance. My arms ease around his warm neck and he drops his to my waist, drawing me in closer.
The evidence of his wanting is pressed hard against my body, and I shiver as he bites my lip and tugs. His experience shows. His hands travel farther down over the curve of my buttocks so he’s guiding me into him provocatively.
I need to stop him.
I shove him away, despite my body’s reluctance, and run to the other corner of the room. He’s breathing heavily, his lips as swollen as mine, I’m sure.
“Oh my god. Oh my god. No.” The realization of what I just did is blowing my mind. He looks at me as though I’m mental, about to lose it at any second.
“It’s okay, Darcy.”
“Okay? Benjamin, I just kissed my boss!”
“So?”
“So I can’t do that!”
He leans against the counter. “Why not?”
“Because you can’t give me what I want! Because I can’t lose my job!”
“What is it you want, Darcy?” he asks, straightening. “From me? What’s keeping you from accepting this?”
He sounds as if he were discussing a business transaction, which flares my frustration. “Well, for starters—monogamy is kind of important to me.”
His lips purse in contemplation. “I don’t do that.”
“Which is why I need you to leave. Now. I will see you at six on Monday.” I walk to the door and pull it open, staring sternly at his astounded expression.
“Good night,” I choke out as he storms past me out the door. I slam it shut and slide against it down to the floor, holding my palm to my aching mouth, still able to feel his bewitching lips on mine.
CHAPTER FOUR
Trying to keep my deranged emotions in check, I head in the direction of Scott Industries, suitcase in hand. The sun hasn’t even risen. Vibrant New York is asleep and quiet.
My lousy weekend consisted of the rest of the cheap wine in my apartment and sad indie music that I listened to until about three hours ago, but I’ve come prepared to face my boss. I won’t let him get the best of me. I will get past this infatuation and be the best damn assistant anyone could possibly have.
I take longer, more confident strides in my brand-new crimson heels. Turning the corner, I catch sight of the black limousine parked outside the entrance of the building. My heart rate picks up knowing he’s nearby.
Come on, keep it together. You have three days with this man.
Dimitri exits the driver’s side to open the door for me, and I nod my thanks. Yes. Cool, calm, collected. However, all that collectiveness goes right out the window as soon as I lay eyes on him.
“Mr. Scott.”
He’s in a gray suit with a crisp white shirt underneath, no tie, and god, he has buttons undone.
“Miss Fontaine.” His voice is cold and distant, as I expected. I sit up straight and peer out the window, planning to start counting the minutes until we reach JFK.
“I trust your weekend went well.”
Wow, he’s talking to me.
“It was fine, thank you. Yours?”
“Fantastic. I had a very entertaining weekend. Eventful,” he divulges, his sarcasm wickedly present today.
Oh, that’s how he wants to do this?
“I’m sure you did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, avoiding any type of eye contact with him because I know it will be my undoing. Those gorgeous, dark green eyes. I hear him scoff next to me like the arrogant jerk he is, and it makes my blood boil.
As soon as we arrive at the unloading dock, he hops from the car and I’m practically left in his dust as he walks ahead of me all the way to the private jet. I can already tell this trip is going to be fantastic.
I choose to stay close to Dimitri, walking silently alongside him. I find him much more comforting than the gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old boss man owning the asphalt beneath his feet.
We step onto the launch pad and I gawk at the size of the plane. The words “Scott Industries” are printed in bold black letters along the side of it.
“That’s impressive,” I remark to Dimitri and he nods, his face passive.
“Yes, ma’am. One of many.”
I gape at him and a slight smile forms on his tanned features. “He has more than one?”
“Three. All different builds.”
“Must be nice.”
Benjamin glances back to look at us, proceeding up the steps. I grip the railing and inhale deeply, knowing there’s no way out of this plane for the next six hours. I can only pray it’s not too unbearable.
At the last step, my heel falls in between the platform and the steps.
Just as my leg starts to give out, a hand catches my arm and I’m pulled up into a rock-hard wall of muscle.
Benjamin bends down and holds my calf, twisting it gently so it lifts up out of the crack. He ever-so-fleetingly caresses the flesh, and I’m instantly weaker. My teeth have clamped down on my lip, watching him as he rises, his provocative gaze snagging hold of my motor skills.
“T-Thank you,” I stutter. My eyes are drawn to his full, slightly parted lips. I can remember what they feel like, taste like.
“Are you all right, miss?” Dimitri interjects, standing behind me on the steps.
“Yes…yes. Thank you. I’m fine.” I raise my hand to my hair, smoothing the frayed strands instinctively.
Benjamin’s hand is still on my arm and he guides me into the cabin. I don’t know if he’s afraid I’m going to hurt myself or he just doesn’t want to stop touching me. The flight attendant and pilot are standing at the cockpit, awaiting our arrival.
“Good morning, Mr. Scott. Everything is in order for your flight to Seattle,” says the pretty flight attendant. “We’re ready to depart when you are.”
“Miss Fontaine needs ice for her ankle. We’re ready to depart other than that,” he replies, taking me over to the tan leather seats.
“Of course, sir.” She pins me with a hostile look of disdain and I gape at her.
What? What did I do?
It occurs to me then that she may very well possibly know her employer in a much more personal way than just that of a devoted employee.
I sit, and when I look back up, she and the pilot have both disappeared. Dimitri walks to the back of the plane and takes a seat.
“Thank you, Benjamin. You didn’t have to ask for that. My ankle’s fine, really.”
“Better to be safe than sorry.” He smiles softly, buckling his seat belt.
He’s sitting next to me…the whole flight!
“We’re sitting next to each other?” I ask, risking a glance at him.
“Yes. Unless you don’t want me to?”
“No, no, I do. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”
He leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes with an exhale. I find myself unable to tear my gaze from his flawless profile, studyin
g his gracefully etched mouth, his sharp bone structure, the dotted birthmark just below his left brow. How can someone look so utterly perfect before the sun has even risen?
His eye cracks open, meeting mine, and I know I’m caught. Feeling my face blush the shade of a ripe tomato, I glance down at my newly polished fingernails. I made sure I looked the best I possibly could prior to seeing him again.
“That’s beautiful,” he comments, referring to the emerald ring I’m twisting mindlessly on my right hand.
“It was my mother’s.” I admire it, remembering when she used to wear it on special occasions. I never take it off now. It’s the only thing I have left of my parents. “My father gave it to her on their fifth anniversary.”
“Do you remember them?” he asks, and surprisingly, his voice is soft, compassionate.
“Yes. I do. All the time.”
The attendant returns with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel and he takes it from her. “Thank you.”
As she walks away, he turns to me. “Lift.” I look at him in confusion, not knowing what he means. “Your leg.” He pats his legs.
I shake my head. ”I’m okay. I really am.”
“Darcy, this fundraiser has dancing and a ton of standing. You’re not going to want to be sore.” He raises his brows and I give in, settling my legs over his awkwardly. He gently presses the ice to my ankle and I can’t help the giggle that escapes as I shiver from the chill of it. He smiles at me and I’m blown away by how blinding his smile is. I rarely ever see it. It shocks me every time.
“These heels are a death trap.” He focuses on my bright red pumps, shaking his head.
“These heels cost a fortune, Mr. Scott.”
“So you paid to be nearly handicapped for the rest of your life? Interesting.”
“You don’t like them?” I feign innocence, knowing all the while that I’m leading myself down a dark path.
Don’t flirt with him! Don’t flirt with him!
His grip tightens on my weak ankles, rubbing them, massaging them, and my insides quiver.
“I like them very much, Darcy.” His heated glimpse at what this could be paralyzes me and I’m left ogling him, unable to look away. I don’t want to. A whole weekend trying to reason with myself can’t cure this. He has some kind of dominion over me. I didn’t even know feelings like this existed, wanting someone this much.
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