The only word I didn't say was "red." I had a sick desire to see just how far I could go, how much I could endure, and when I realized that, it was enough to bring me over a third time. By the fourth I was screaming, writhing against his body as he held me captive over my instrument of torture. I tried to close my legs, and he forced his knee between my thighs. I could feel his hard cock against me through the wet towel. I wanted to hold on to him, wanted to collapse, but all I could do was stand there on the balls of my feet, my calves cramping as I came again and again, until they felt more like explosions of pain than pleasure, and with one final howl of desperation from my hoarse throat I shouted, "Red!"
He turned the water off with one hand and released the safety latch on one of the cuffs with the other. He was quick enough to catch me as I fell into his arms, as boneless and exhausted as if I had gone running after all. If the entire experience had taken a full ten minutes I would have been very surprised, but it had felt like hours.
He held me at his side and helped me stagger from the shower, wrapping me in the towel I'd gotten for myself and leaving his sodden one behind. He led me through the closet, into the bedroom, and very thoroughly dried me. Then he pulled back the still-mussed bedding and ordered, "Get in."
"Are you going to fuck me?" I asked, wriggling under the covers.
To my surprise, he pulled the duvet over me, leaned down, kissed me briefly, and said, "No. I told you, I have to serve my time on the elliptical."
"Oh." I felt a little silly, being disappointed by that. After all, I'd just practically passed out from orgasms in the shower. I might not have survived intercourse.
"Take a nap, darling." He kissed me again, smiling against my mouth. "You'll want to be well-rested. I get all my best ideas while I'm working out."
I giggled and squealed and slid down in the cushiony, comfy heaven that was his bed.
How could I have ever worried that things might get boring between us?
* * * *
Monday morning I was too sick to work. That had happened to me once, maybe twice in my entire life, and I'd always pushed through. I figured I’d be sick anyway, so I might as well get paid for it. This time, though, I couldn't possibly push through my illness; I'd spent most of the morning hugging the toilet.
"Hey!" Holli stuck her head through the door and frowned. "Are you hung over?"
"No." I tried to shake my head, but that was so not a good idea when I seemed to be violently motion sick. "I called off work. I may have barfed up some intestine."
"Gross. Guess what?" She leaned against the doorframe, and waited patiently for me to dry-heave over the bowl before continuing. "I got a really, really big job."
"That's great." It was difficult to sound enthusiastic, but I tried. I pushed my sweaty hair back from my forehead and propped myself up on my elbows on the toilet seat. "What is it?"
"It's in January..." she began, trying to sound mysterious with her excitement rising the whole time. "It's in Paris..."
"Oh my god." I forced myself to my feet and splashed some water from the sink into my vomity mouth before lurching at her. "Oh my god, you're doing Paris fashion week?"
"That was why I had lunch with my agent on that Sunday a few weeks ago! I knew that day, but I couldn’t tell anybody until this week. It was torture!" Holli accepted my hug very cautiously, as though she wanted a hazmat suit. She ducked under my arm. "Please don't give me what you have."
I stepped back. Even though my guts were still roiling, I was overflowing with happiness for my friend.
Okay, no, that wasn't happiness.
Holli raced out the door as I fell to my knees again.
* * * *
It was a little strange returning to work in the wake of my fight with Neil and the declaration it had led to. Before, going into the office and knowing he was there had been a naughty thrill for me. Now, it was frustrating. Denying our relationship now didn't seem kinky or fun. It was just kind of depressing.
I came back to work on Tuesday. I was in reception for all of two seconds before Neil walked out of his office and intercepted me.
"Are you feeling better, Ms. Scaife?" he asked, falling in step beside me as I headed across the main floor to my department.
"I am, Mr. Elwood, thanks." I kept my tone light, and noticed that when we got to the beauty department, he almost put his hand at the small of my back as I went through the door. I turned quickly and looked up with a neutral, professional smile. "Do you need something?"
"No, just..." his eyes moved past me to Jessica, who was editing photos on her laptop at the big central table. She barely noticed him there. "Just making sure you're all right."
He'd called the night before, and I'd still been sick as a dog. A little reassurance - from his girlfriend and not his employee - might make him worry less. I went to my desk, pulled my phone out of my purse, and texted him. I'm fine. I'm feeling much better. Must have been a twenty-four hour thing.
"Morning, Jess," I said as I tapped out the message. I hit send and said, "Sorry I called off yesterday. Was it too much of a pain in the ass around here?"
"No, not bad at all." She shrugged. "You'll probably have to play catch up, but at this point in the issue, the fires are mostly put out. I'm sorry you had such a shitty weekend, though."
"Actually, it wasn't so bad. I didn't get sick until the middle of the night, like Monday morning." I was just glad I hadn't done it at Neil's. I'd woken up and promptly puked in my lap. That would have definitely killed the romance between us. "Do anything exciting?"
Jessica shrugged. "I went to a party in the village. Okay band, bordering on mediocre. You?"
"I spent the weekend with my boyfriend." I got a little thrill out of talking about Neil without anyone knowing I was talking about Neil. There was no way I could ever tell Jessica or India that my boyfriend was Neil Elwood, and not just because it would endanger my job. I'd heard them talk so much shit about him; they would be mortified if they knew I was in love with him.
"Oh!" I said quickly, remembering. How could I forget? "My roommate got hired to do runway for fashion week in Paris!"
"Wow!" Jessica's eyes went wide. "So, basically, she's made it."
"Yeah!" I hadn't really thought about it, but... yeah. For a model who'd be happy standing in front of cars at auto shows, Holli had really exceeded her own career expectations. "She's totally psyched."
The door opened. I looked up, expecting India. Instead, Jake stepped in. "Sophie, do you have a minute?"
I looked to Jessica. "Do I have a quick minute?"
"India isn't here yet, so..." Jess shrugged. "Go for it."
"Okay, but it has to be really quick," I told Jake as we walked out of the department. He led me to the emergency exit stairwell in the corner. We slipped through the door, Jake seemingly oblivious to the stares of some of our coworkers.
"So, you know it looks like we're coming out here for some super secret meeting, right?" I was kind of annoyed. I knew he was still under the impression that I was on his side, but I had no idea what his side was or what he thought he was plotting to accomplish.
"We are coming out here for a secret meeting." He looked over my head, through the small window in the door. "I wanted to be the first to tell you. I'm leaving."
"Leaving? As in, quitting?" It wasn't as huge a surprise as he was making it out to be. I had been expecting him to leave way back when Gabriella was still with us. Not because he'd been unhappy, I was just certain he would get a massive book deal or something and not need us anymore. Because despite all the flaws in his character that had become magnified about a thousand percent in the past couple of months, he really was a talented guy. He knew exactly how to work with photographers, how to describe the look he was going for to compliment his words, and how to cooperate if those visions didn't quite match up.
"It's Porteras's loss," I told him, and I meant it.
"It doesn't have to be your loss, though." He put one hand on the wall beside my h
ead and leaned in, way too close. Because we were being covert, I guess?
I took a half-step away from his arm. "What do you mean?"
He blew out a breath and looked to the door. "You have to swear you won't tell Elwood. I don't know what's going on with you two, but I can't trust you with this information if you're going to run right to him with it."
Jake could have slapped me, and I would have been less stunned and shocked. "What?"
"Oh, come on," he said with a roll of his eyes. "You were in his office that day, with the door locked. I was there. And then you suddenly got promoted."
"That's not how I got the promotion! Gabriella - "
"Gabriella put you on a list, I know. Look, I know how hard it is. I've done things I'm not proud of to get jobs, believe me." He had a look on his face that said we're the same, I understand you.
But he didn't understand. He didn't understand me at all.
He smirked down at me. "Gabriella has backers, lots of financial backers, as well as the support of several major designers. They're going to start their own magazine."
"Good." I meant that. Neil's weird new policies were going to kill Porteras, anyway. "I hope she’ll be very successful.”
"You don’t have to hope. She’s going to be successful. She's picking up the advertisers that are fleeing this place like rats off a sinking ship." Jake straightened and put his hands in his pockets. I wanted to smack the smug off his stupid face. "You're looking at Gabriella's second-in-command at the new publication. Do you want in?"
"What?" I thought I might choke on my tongue.
"Like I said, it's all hush-hush right now. But I can talk to Gabriella, see if you can't maybe get on board. You might be her assistant again, at first, but there's definitely a chance for advancement. Are you in?"
I wanted to say was: Let me see. Work another two years for the woman who thought I wasn't good enough to take along on this new venture in the first place, driving her dog to get its malfunctioning colon cleansed, and betray the man I love in order to do it? Sign me up, and which foot do you want me to shoot myself in, the right or the left?
But my sense and reason overrode that. Working for Gabriella on a new magazine? People would kill for that opportunity. Could I really pass that up? She had too much pull in the fashion world to fail at this. Her new magazine would be a phenomenal success, fueled by the ire of former Porteras readers alienated by the changes Elwood & Stern had made.
"I would definitely consider it," I said carefully.
"Good." He grinned at me. "At least you know you won't have to do anything depraved behind locked doors with Gabriella."
No, I'd be compromising my dignity in front of everyone. Much better.
I staggered out of the stairwell, feeling like I'd been hit by a truck.
I turned back and gave Jake my most serious look as I asked under my breath, “Is she making an announcement soon then? Courting subscribers?”
Jake grinned and said, low, an eye out for anyone who might overhear, “That’s the beauty part. She has someone who works right here at Porteras who’s borrowing the mailing list. Postcards and emails will hit subscribers this Friday.”
Borrowing? Stealing. Someone was going to steal the subscription list for her, so she could poach subscribers from Neil? It wasn’t unheard of for publications to share subscription lists, but not with rival publications. Doing it this way was dirty and underhanded.
But if Porteras went under, did I really want to go down with it?
Sirens that screamed, “Tell Neil!” accompanied every warning light flashing in my head. This was serious. Someone taking that list would affect… well, it would probably mean everyone who ever had access to it would be suspect. Maybe they would all get fired.
Maybe I would get fired. Who better than me to give her that list, since I’d had my nose about six feet deep in Gabriella’s ass the whole time I’d worked for her? They were going to suspect me. Oh god, Neil was going to suspect me.
But how could I tell him? I might lose my job either way, when the deception got uncovered. It wouldn’t be a secret for long, only one confused subscriber would have to write in and ask what the junk email or postcard was about. By that time, the damage to Porteras would be done, though. If Gabriella knew I was the whistle blower, I wouldn’t get a job with her. But if I didn’t tell Neil, I was betraying him on a pretty personal level.
I loved him. Could I really keep this a secret from him?
Chapter Nineteen
Friday night, I was feeling way better from my illness. My stomach was still kind of jumpy and sour every once in a while, but I attributed that to the whole stressful ethics issue I had going on.
I was dying to see Neil, but a little concerned about the secret job offer/office espionage that would undoubtedly blow up during the coming week. I knew I had to warn him about the subscriber list, but I wasn’t sure it was my place to break the chain of command. Did that fall under “let’s not discuss business?” I had already warned Rudy to keep an eye on Jake, and I assumed he wouldn’t have kept my suspicions from Neil. Rudy was sharp, and nothing serious would get past him.
If a real job offer panned out, I would bring it up with Neil then. If he was super mad about it, we'd deal with it. And if he couldn't respect me for prioritizing my career over him, then maybe I'd fallen in love with the wrong guy, no matter how great the sex was, or how much fun we had together. I needed to stay Team Sophie.
I headed to Neil's place straight from work, and actually beat him there. I waited for him in the lobby.
"This is why you need a key," he said when he arrived. He took me into his arms and kissed my forehead before he released me and urged me toward the elevator.
"A key?" I considered that as the doors closed us in. "On one hand, you're obviously not afraid that I'll just drop by at a weird time or move in while you're at work."
"Sophie, you won't even leave a spare toothbrush at my place, I don't think I have to worry about you moving in uninvited.”
"Ooh, that reminds me, did you get my bag?" For the past few weekends, Neil had sent someone to the apartment to pick up my weekend bag, so I didn't have to schlep it to work. I think Neil would have been thrilled if I would have just left some extra clothes and things at his place, but I was nowhere near ready for that.
"Tony picked it up this morning." The doors opened and we stepped into the small vestibule. "You were about to tell me your other hand."
"What other hand?" I asked, momentarily puzzled.
"The hand that will ultimately decline a key to my apartment," he said, not meeting my eyes as he unlocked the door.
"Oh, that hand." I tried to keep my tone light, because he was right, I wasn't going to take a damn key. "Well, on that hand, I would have a key to your apartment. That might be a little heavy this early."
He held open the door for me and dropped his briefcase in the foyer. "Do you mind terribly if we order in tonight? I'm a bit tired."
Now that we were standing together in familiar lighting, I noticed the dark hollows under his eyes, the slight pallor to his complexion. "Are you okay? You’re not coming down with that thing I had?"
"Oh, I’m fine. Just a little tired is all." He smiled bravely, but I felt a cold chill of worry. Every time we got updates at work lately, it seemed like bad news disguised as good news. I realized he must have been under an enormous amount of stress over the past week.
I was determined to make the night as relaxing as possible for him. Maybe I’d bring up the meeting with Jake, but not tonight. Not when Neil looked so run down.
We ended up ordering pizza and cheap red wine and eating cross-legged on the bed in the media room.
"You said media room, I imagined like, a plasma screen and a rack of DVDs," I said, looking up at the tray ceiling and recessed lighting. The bed we sat on was surrounded by movie-theatre-style seats, five behind us, two rows of two on either side.
"I had this done when Emma turned sixteen. She and
her friends had sleepovers in here." He gestured to the projector overhead. "Replaced that a few times since then, of course."
"Oh, of course." I snickered.
"Don't make fun of me for having money," he scolded. "You'd have more of it yourself, if you'd let me pay for the pizza."
"No, I have to pay for some things."
He took a swallow of wine. "I forgot to mention... Emma will be here tomorrow."
"Oh." Well, I’d thought I was feeling better from my stomach bug, now not so much. Maybe I was just getting an ulcer from stress. "Emma will be here..."
"Tomorrow," he said slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching as he gauged my reaction. "But I'd like you to stay. You two had a disastrous first meeting, and I'd like you to be able to get along."
I reached for the wine bottle and poured myself another glass. "Does she live here, or..."
"Part time. She travels a lot, for her job, organizing events and fundraisers all over. When she's in town, I very graciously let her stay here, rent free, to prevent her from moving in with her horrible boyfriend." He pushed the pizza box toward me and reclined on his side.
I shook my head. "That probably won't work forever."
"No, you're right. But it has worked for the past year, so I’m ever hopeful." He frowned up at the projection screen on the wall, where a happy blonde couple toured a restored farmhouse. "So, the entire premise of this program is that people go looking for houses to live in and reject the perfect ones outright because they're too lazy to paint?"
“That’s about the gist of it.” I covered my mouth with my hand as I spoke, chewing up my last bite. I dropped the crust into the top of the box and grabbed one of the flimsy paper napkins to wipe my hands. "Well, Sir, I don't know what you had in mind for the rest of the evening, but I think I broke your 'don't get tipsy' rule."
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