Hostile Work Environment: A Dirty Billionaire Boss Romance

by Dark Angel

  “Okay!” I interrupt. I know better than to tell my bestie to try out that fraudulent deep breathing technique, and we can’t have the council after her when it doesn’t work. Shit, if we can’t help each other, we’re fucked! A bemused grin spreads over my face. “So, yeah, I slept with the teacher you suggested that I sleep with, the teacher we agreed is hot, the teacher I'm crazy about, and now I’m nuts? Like, I thought we knew it was nuts and I should do it anyway?” I'm totally confused now.

  “Um,” Delia says. I can practically hear her pacing. “Are you in love with him, Emmy?”

  Delia never calls me Emmy unless shit is really serious. Damn, I guess it really is, too. Delia is my BFF for a reason. I can tell her everything, and I can trust her to always tell me the truth.

  “Yes, I am.” I have to tell her the truth, too.

  “I did not think you would sleep with him. I’m sorry. Girl, how well do you think you really know him though?” Delia is nervous for me.

  I’m nervous for me now, too. The way that she asked me that…I think she might be onto something and I so don’t want to admit that. But that’s what Delia and I do for each other; when we bring something to each other, we know we have to be prepared to deal with some grown woman shit.

  “There’s no way you can have a relationship with him,” Delia says. She sounds upset for me.

  I appreciate that. I’m upset for me, too.

  “And what would your mother think?” Delia asks. Credit to my girl, she does not sound judgey right now. Just bringing hard truths, but not harshly.

  And I need that, and a hug, right now.

  “Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “My mother seemed downright evasive when I asked her about Ethan at lunch,” I share this damning truth. It sinks into my gut with the thud of suspicion.

  Delia sighs now. “There’s probably a good reason for that,” she says. “And you should probably forget about Ethan.”

  Amazing how that was the plan before, and now it is serious advice. Advice that maybe I need to take.

  Ethan

  This meeting is not going well at all. I’m grateful that it was an impromptu little sit down — his words — and that I can get back to grading soon like I said. I don’t want to deal with this shit right now. The truth is that I just want to say fuck the grading and worry about sliding Emmaline up and down on my cock until she’s cumming with her face pressed against my chest. I’m thinking about wrapping my arms around her soft body when I realize I should be paying attention to this chastisement I’m receiving from a bitter, washed up old fuck that’s never really liked me. The feeling is fucking mutual, and that makes a boring situation a frustrating and tense one.

  “Aiden Lavelle was a student, and your actions will not go unpunished,” my department head, Lonnie Brixon says. What kind of a name is that for an English department head? That’s just the kind of name for a mid-level villain.

  That’s what he is right now. I beat the shit out of that little asshole, and I’d do it again. My name is on the building I teach in, I don’t need anything from this university, and they trot my name out like I’m some kind of show pony. I won’t have this shit.

  “It's one thing for us to look the other way with flings that you’ve had with students in the past, and that was handled, so there’s no need to deal with that…but this is another matter,” Lonnie says, his disgust for me evident.

  “The assault happened off campus. Neither the parents nor the student are pressing charges. It was all handled and has no blowback for the university,” I counter. I don’t appreciate that he’s saying I’ve fucked around with students, as I haven’t…well, until now. But that’s just not his goddamn business.

  I feel myself slipping into anger again. I want Emmaline and I’ve done something incredibly stupid in even entertaining the thought of her being mine.

  “You can’t buy your way out of everything!” Lonnie says, his voice getting shrill. He’s never been happy that despite being in his department, I’m his superior in just about every way.

  I won’t stand for this petty shit. I don’t have time for this.

  “If you’re done, I know I am,” I say, and I walk out of his office. I don’t need this shit at all.

  Because I know that I don’t have a leg to stand on right now when it comes to Emmaline. I want to fuck her so hard neither of us can breathe, and my body aches just thinking about her.

  I think about what happened with the last attraction I had that was anything serious to me…Joelle. Emmaline’s mother, for fuck’s sake.

  And this is not my first university incident. I can’t think about that girl right now.

  I know that I have real feelings for Emmaline. Nothing built out of just lust; nothing originating in my feelings for Joelle.

  And if I really care about Emmaline, I should leave her alone. The idea makes me want to punch something.

  I keep myself sequestered from every possible relationship because they aren’t that — they aren’t possibilities. But I know that Emmaline is something more. She understands me, she gets me in a way that no woman ever has. Not her mother, Joelle. Not any of the random women I’ve slept with. I care about Emmaline. I want more, and I know that she’s more than mildly interested in me.

  I could have her wrapped all around my finger, but I shouldn’t be that asshole. I should stay away from her.

  My cock is rock hard just thinking about her. I head to my office and try to think about grading papers, but I’m thinking about fucking Emmaline until she screams my name.

  I’m a grown fucking man and I can control myself. I need to control myself. I will stop thinking about her.

  In three,

  Two,

  Aaaaand my phone rings.

  Emmaline is calling me.

  It makes me want to knock my damn desk over but I ignore the call.

  Emmaline

  Ethan won’t return any of my calls.

  I went to his house, and he wasn’t home.

  I’m being ignored in such an intense way that I feel insane. Insanity is the only way that I can justify my reaction to going to class, where I plan to corner Ethan afterward, then walking out when I see there’s a substitute.

  Yes, miss 4.0 GPA, skipped class when I saw there was a substitute teacher.

  Delia’s radar must be going off because she texts me right as I’m exiting class. She wants me to meet up with her.

  I hightail back to my dorm. I’m wearing my damn flats so my feet are screaming by the time I get there, but I can’t focus on anything now that Ethan is ignoring me this way. How could I be so stupid? I am so grateful to see Delia that I give her a huge hug when I see her.

  I let go, walking into my dorm room. Delia’s face is ominous and I feel myself get a little dizzy. I

  “Em, you’re not going to like this,” Delia says.

  Shiiiit. That’s not a thing I want to hear.

  “What is it I won’t like?” I ask in a small voice. “Ethan has basically ghosted me.” I don’t mention going by his house and him not being home. That’s starting to sound a little crazy in my head, though I’m honestly fine with it…I remember how Ethan knew my schedule and I was fine with that. But Delia and I don’t need to debate stalker ethics. She knows something and I need to know it, too.

  “I’m sorry, babe.” Delia says, and she sits on my bed.

  I sit next to her and try to mentally prepare myself for whatever bomb Delia might be about to drop on me.

  “You’re not the first student that Ethan slept with,” Delia says.

  I’m shocked by this, but I’m not jealous. Am I delusional that I feel like I'm still special to him? I know he’s special to me, and since he’s disappeared off the face of the earth, maybe that is enough. “Ten years ago — I did some digging — he slept with a girl, a freshman student.” Delia stops, but there’s so obviously more.

  “Well…what happened?” I ask. If Delia didn’t come right out and say it, then it must be bad.

>   “Oh, well, she died. The death was ruled an accident. The girl’s family blamed Ethan, and they tried to sue him, and it was all settled out of court,” Delia explains.

  I raise my eyebrow. “Why would Ethan settle?”

  Delia rests her palms flat on the bed behind her and leans on them. “Maybe he felt guilty,” Delia says.

  Shiiiit. This has me so twisted up in knots.

  “Maybe it's best that you just let things go with Ethan,” Delia says.

  I sigh, my shoulders sinking.

  “He seems to have walked away, and maybe that’s what you need to do, too,” Delia says, and she reaches out to give me another hug. “And don’t think that I don’t know you just skipped a class. I meant you could meet me afterward, girl. Get your ass ready for your chemistry lab.”

  I chuckle. Can always count on Delia to have my back, kick my ass, or whatever I need.

  “Thanks for digging into everything for me, babe.” I grab my notebooks and shove everything together in my bag. “Yeah, skipping class, screwing professors with murder dicks, that’s probably not the thing to get used to,” I say with a half-hearted chuckle.

  I say that, and I know that I did bad shit. But I don’t believe that the heinous stuff about Ethan could be true. It makes me feel foolish that I’m still holding out the possibility that everything is just how it seems. It felt like more.

  Am I just another girl who gave her virginity to a man and now everything went sideways?

  I just can’t believe all of this. I know damn well that I’m not going to let this go. I don’t want to hide it from Delia, but I also don’t know what to say right now. I’m going to find Ethan because he can’t hide forever. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. I just hope I can do it without further breaking my now even more fragile heart.

  If everything bad about Ethan is true, I don’t even know if that will be enough for me to let go of him. That’s just damned foolish, but I can’t fight how I feel inside and hope to win. Should horrible things about Ethan may be true, and then I guess I have to hope that they can be powerful enough to kill my feelings.

  But I can’t fight this overwhelming sense that I know Ethan…that I really do, and that none of this can possibly be true.

  “Bye, Delia,” I say, heading out the door.

  Delia follows behind me, heading off to her own class.

  I’m hardheaded and while I’m going to my chemistry lab, I still know that I’m not over this by a long shot. Foolish as it makes me feel, I still think I’m going to be a breath away from drawing Ethan's name in little hearts in my notebook. I have it truly, seriously, bad and I don’t even want to be over it.

  Ethan needs to be the one to tell me why he’s avoiding me.

  And it's me, and only me, that he’s avoiding. So I have to find him. I know just the place. I will head to his office after my class. Just because there was a substitute professor in my particular session doesn’t mean there won’t be one later. As he must be avoiding me, this is the way for me to find out not just if that is true, but why the fuck he is avoiding me at all.

  I want some answers.

  I need to see his face.

  Emmaline

  I enter the building with his name on it. Head past the lecture hall where I attend his classes. I'm back to confirm that he’s in his office.

  Sure enough, Ethan is seeing other students in his office.

  I’m the one he’s avoiding.

  When the last student in that line is gone and walks out, having conducted their business, I walk toward the again closed door and feel so strange. I want to knock, but I’m also so upset. I hesitate for a second and then open the door without knocking. I need to see him; I miss Ethan's face that much.

  Sitting at his desk, Ethan still looks formidable and impressive. I will never be able to breathe that second I see him. This is no different. I audibly gasp at just the sight of him. His intricately gorgeous, intense face, the hollows of his cheekbones when he sucks in a breath of his own. I want to kiss Ethan on the inhale, and climb him for the exhale.

  I’m upset but mostly I love him. I love him and I needed to see him.

  “Emmaline,” Ethan says in a low growl.

  A shiver climbs up my spine and tickles my scalp, and even my toes. I reach out in his direction for a second, just instinctually because I want to touch him.

  Ethan stands, almost a reaction to that touch and he’s stood and stepped just a touch closer to me.

  “Why are you ignoring me, avoiding me?” I say. I don’t care how desperate my voice sounds. I’m right here and I want to pour myself all over him, and I just need to feel him in return.

  Ethan bites his lip, narrows his eyes, and finally responds, his face considering mine. “You wanted a one night stand, and that’s what I gave you,” he says. I hear the raw power in his voice, the thick timbre of it dark. There’s so much more to what he’s saying, but since I’ve been shut out, I don’t understand it fully.

  “That’s not what I want now,” I say, but I back up a step. I'm dangerously close to making a fool of myself and that was okay with me until right now. Because if Ethan tells me that’s what he wants, then I’m going to be utterly crushed. I might shatter and turn to dust right here in his office.

  “You don’t know what you want,” Ethan says, his voice a deadly calm before a storm.

  The words whisper over my skin, and I turn toward him. “Yes, I do-“

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Ethan says through gritted teeth.

  “Did the last girl that you had an affair with know what she was getting into?” I yelp, frustrated that he seems to be having such a strong reaction but he doesn’t seem like he’s going to touch me. Does he even want me? There’s a welling sea of emotion breaking through me like a static electric storm surging through me.

  Ethan deletes the space between us and grabs me, his fingers digging into my skin, holding my upper arms and shaking me a little. I’m jarred, like a little doll he can break in his touch. In this moment, if Ethan wanted to shatter me, that would be preferable to not having his hands on me. I’m not afraid of him, but I am afraid of what comes next. Not because I think Ethan will hurt me, but because I’m so aroused by his touch and by the brutal emotion he’s finally showing, I don’t know how to make it to the next moment.

  “What happened with that other girl?” I ask quietly. It's part curiosity and part apology for pulling out a fact with no context.

  I just want him to make me understand. If this is painful, I want Ethan to give me the pain. I need to know what he’s thinking, feel what he’s feeling, and if I can, I need to give him what he needs. What I need is for him to bring everything at my shoulders and lay it on me, because I want to be consumed by everything that is him. How do I tell him that?

  “Well,” Ethan draws out the word. One of his hands goes up to the nape of my neck, and the other strokes my jawline achingly slow.

  My eyes draw hooded with lust, his touch burning my skin up for him. My panties are so wet and my clit aches now. I need him so much I could burst.

  “If you know about that,” Ethan says in a quietly powerful voice that makes me think of him as a volcano that won’t be dormant much longer. “Then why would you want me?” His sensual voice is almost musical in my ears. “Don’t you think I might be dangerous?” he asks with a wicked lift of an eyebrow that makes the mask of his always-composed face villainously attractive.

  But I know Ethan is not sinister. He’s my protector and never would he harm me. “I know you’re dangerous. You’re the only person who could hurt me, but you’re not going to,” I say, my confidence utterly solid. “Like how I know now that you’re going to put me out of my misery. I need you to fuck away all the pain I’ve had being apart from you,” I say, my lips trembling. I crash into him, crashing my lips against him.

  Ethan meets my kiss with an equally unbridled passion. The furious power surging through him is poured down my thr
oat with his every kiss, his tongue sweeping over mine, his lips kissing mine again and again. This is not a gentle kiss. This isn't a slow burn. He’s incinerating me with a passion that leaves my lips bruised and my body aching like a shadow of his every action, desperately responding to his every passionate touch. I moan into his mouth and he eats it, growling against my lips.

  Emmaline

  I pull back from our kiss, pressing my fingers to Ethan's lips. “You steal the life out of me when you kiss me like that,” I say, breathless.

  Ethan captures my wrist, pulling me to his side by my hand. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, his voice husky, talking through gritted teeth with an intense passion.

  “I’ll die if you stop kissing me,” I tell him. Melodramatic, and utterly true. We’re like this, and if you don’t get it by now, you’re reading the wrong story.

  Romeo and Juliet didn’t know shit about love when it comes to drama, not compared to us.

  I think about Jane Eyre and her tormented Byronic hero, Rochester. They were brutally honest with each other, and they loved each other so intensely that they could never be apart without it crushing them.

  Jane saw Rochester through society and knew that they were two souls as one, and she felt herself in him.

  “He is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;—I am sure he is,—I feel akin to him,—I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him.”

  Yes, no one understands the Ethan I see now. He and are the same. Our boundless passion entwines us and we are more inevitable than death, despite everything that tries to stop us.

  “I want to worship your body,” I tell Ethan.

  He smirks at me so deliciously, but the way that he looks down, his face heats a little, he sucks in a breath, I know that no one has said such a thing to him before. Not anyone that he wanted before. “I want you to be mine forever. I need to be yours,” I say, whisper soft but sounding out everything that I desperately need.