by Alexa Riley
“Look, Vanilla,” she snaps pulling me from my thoughts. “You cost me my job today, and the rent is due. The way I see it, your big guy down there is pretty interested in making a deal. So how about we talk numbers. Wanna make me an offer?”
Before I lose my temper completely, I let go of the desk and take a step back. I need some distance from her. The thought of taking her still playing around in my mind and her sweet smell aren't helping. “I will say it clearly, and for the second time. Rebecca, I didn’t get you fired.”
“Liar,” she says, and leans back on my desk with her palms flat on the glass behind her. She’s smudging up my pristine desk and making a mess of my organization. She’s trashed my office and flipped my schedule for today completely upside down.
Getting to the position I’m in today requires rigorous control and scheduling. I just so happen to be a type-A who gets anxiety when my schedule is off even for a moment. I suffer from panic attacks when I feel a situation is beyond my control, but surprisingly, right now, none of those emotions are present. At the moment, I only feel raging desire, which is as unfamiliar to me as my current situation.
“You won’t call me a liar, Rebecca.” I’m breathing hard, but now that I’m not touching her, I can try to put together this mess. Maybe some of the blood flowing to my cock will return to my brain. I can do this. Just take it one step at a time.
“First, you need to put my shirt on.” I say, and reach down to pick it up off the floor. I approach her again, but I’m careful not to touch her when she takes the shirt from me. After it’s in her hand, I take a step back so I can distance myself from her pull.
“News flash, Vanilla, I’m not putting that shirt on. You can get over it or die pissed, it’s not happening. Now let’s talk about you getting me fired.”
“Fine. If you insist on not wearing anything, we’ll have this discussion like an adult talking to a child.” which seems ironic, because without a shirt she looks nothing like a child. Lush and curvy in all the right places.
“Oh, Daddy play! Now you’re talking.”
I clench my fists at my sides to keep some control. Who does she think she is? No one speaks to me like this. I stare at her for a split second and all I can think is how her pink, plump lips look so kissable that I want to trace them with my tongue.
I shake my head to clear the thought. “Rebecca.”
“If you’re going to call me a name, it’s Becs. Not Rebecca.”
“Rebecca, please don’t interrupt me.”
She rolls her eyes at me, sits up on my desk, and throws my shirt to the ground. I should be more upset about a thousand-dollar custom-made shirt being treated like trash, but I would use it to mop the floor if it meant just a taste of those lips.
I shake my head again to remove the crazy unfamiliar thoughts from my mind. I can’t seem to concentrate. What is wrong?
“Fine. You call me Becs, and I’ll call you Bray. Deal?”
“Rebecca,” I say ignoring her request. Becs seems like a name a friend would call her, and my intentions are far from friendly when it comes to her. “If you will please stop interrupting me, I’ll explain that I didn’t get you fired. I had a chat with your boss this morning about your performance at work. For the past few weeks, anytime I’ve tried to talk to you at work, you’ve been cold and distant, even rude. I was worried that something was wrong at home. I only spoke to him to clear things up. I never said you were a problem or that you should’ve been fired. I merely said that I’d noticed a change in your attitude at work and asked if there was any personal reason for the behavior.”
She gives me a skeptical look, and I wait for her judgement. I really was worried about her, she seemed so distant and I missed her sweet smiles. I ached to have them back. I knew her smiles were all I would get from her, and when they stopped, it hurt more than I thought it would.
“Why should I believe that? Because the second I showed up today my ass was canned. Explain why.”
“I don’t know, but if you’d like, you can sit here while I make a call and have you reinstated. I was just checking in and I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
I should have been more careful when I was asking about her. Everyone is always so over-eager to make me happy that I’m sure the manager thought firing her was what I wanted. I wouldn’t have asked the way I had if I’d thought it would have cost her the job.
“Why would you check in on me? It was pretty clear you didn’t think I fit in there.” She throws the last line at me like an accusation, but I don’t know what she means.
I excel at a few things, and reading people is one of them. I look at her face and see the emotions in her eyes. She looks vulnerable, yet strong. I can see she wants to believe me but she’s afraid of it. Her body language shows me she’s confident, but her nervous fingers betray her.
“What do you mean I made that clear? When?” I try to remember ever saying anything like that to her and then it hits me. “Oh, God, no.” I whisper.
“Yeah, I caught that conversation. No big deal, Vanilla. It’s just good to know where I stand.”
“I never meant for you to hear that because it wasn’t true. The woman I was with that day is my ex-partner's wife. She set up a meeting with me to go over some final documents and believe me, if she had seen me show any interest in you, your life would have become hell.”
She looks at me skeptically, but I see hope in her eyes.
“You don’t fit in anywhere.” I say, and see the defeated look cross her face. I don’t know why that would bother her. She’s a rarity. With her beautiful big eyes that are almost purple in color. Her short white-blonde hair with its color streaks of lavender and pink. A punk rock Tinkerbell is the only way I can describe her. I’ve never seen anyone so different, and breathtakingly beautiful.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to hear that, but that woman is evil and I didn’t need her knowing how important you were to me.”
A little smile plays on the corner of her mouth at my confession, and I could kick my own ass for admitting that.
I want to fix this situation. I want to go back to getting my sweet smiles when I get my coffee in the lobby, so I sift through my mental checklist on how to resolve this problem.
“Would you like your job back? I could solve this problem with one phone call, but you seem intent on making a scene and offering your body instead.” My cock jerks at the reminder that I could have her, that I could own her.
She hops off my desk and moves closer to me. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go back to work for that asshole after he offered up a blow job for some cash.”
Rage floods my veins instantly and I take a step forward, putting us just centimeters apart. The emotion she can provoke in me in seconds is unsettling, and thrilling all at once. I’ve spent my whole life trying not to feel anything towards anyone. I can feel the heat coming off her body and I don’t know if my anger or desire is stronger. “He said what?”
“Don’t get your hundred dollar bills in a twist, Vanilla, I turned him down. I’m just not super sure I want to see what his next offer is going to be if I go back to work there. Why don’t you think about another job placement while we hammer out the details of my goodie sack?”
I mentally add firing the coffee shop manager to my to-do list today. He’ll be lucky if that’s all I’ll do.
“I need someone to clean my house.” I blurt out and I don’t know what on earth possessed me to say that. Number one, I clean my own house because I’m obsessive and like things a certain way. Number two, I don’t like people in my home. Only a handful of people even know where I live. The thought of strangers in my space makes my stomach turn, but I just offered it to her freely.
“Oh,” she says, and starts walking around my office again. I should be concerned about the items she broke, but when she’s near me I don’t know that I have any cares in the world that don’t revolve around her.
“Yes. And I need someone to cook for
me as well.” What am I doing? My food is another control issue for me, and letting that go to her should have me crazy with anxiety. I don’t like to go out to restaurants because I’m terrified of the potential problems. I can’t handle the stress that comes with it. Yet here I am asking her to cook for me. It’s like my brain and mouth can’t get on the same page.
“So, I would go to your house to clean and cook? That’s it? How much?” she asks, eyeing me suspiciously. As she should. If she knew the thoughts I’ve had of her since I spotted her in the coffee shop, she would run. At first I was happy when she stopped talking to me and started up her rude attitude. Good. She needed to push me away, and it was for the best, but by the second day it was already wearing thin. I needed her smiles back. I craved them. Who craves a smile? Someone who could become obsessed, that’s who. Someone who knows what obsession could do to a person.
I mentally calculate what she was making before, and then throw that out the window. What’s she worth to me? That’s a question I haven’t been able to answer. I have to think about what I can reasonably offer her without looking like an asshole throwing money at her, and not have her turn me down.
“A thousand dollars a week.”
“A week?” she shrieks, and I immediately regret not going higher. I hurriedly revise my offer so she can’t turn it down.
“I heard you mention you have a brother staying with you at the motel. This deal will also include my paying the motel bill. However I’ll need you to stay in my home for the majority of the time so that I can ensure all of the work I need completed is being taken care of. I work odd hours, so having you at my disposal is crucial.”
I try to convince myself that I need her close. The idea of her staying at some rent by the week motel pisses me off. If I’d known that’s how she was living before I would’ve done something sooner. But she was so beautiful and perfect. I assumed she belonged to someone. Someone was keeping her safe from men like me.
I watch her walk around the room as I say all of this, hoping she doesn’t see through me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. One second I’m telling myself to push her away, and the next I’m pulling her closer. I just asked her to sleep in my home. No one has ever slept there except me. What was I thinking? You’re thinking she yours, I hear the whisper in my head. No, not mine. I’ll just keep her safe. I won’t touch her. I’ll keep her at a distance but still get to see her. Maybe get those smiles back.
She stops her circle around the room and locks eyes with me. “Deal.” She says, and walks back over to my desk. A feeling of victory runs through me. She stands on the other side and crosses her arms. It pushes up her breasts, and my eyes go directly to her cleavage.
“But this price doesn’t include the va-jay-jay. Got it?” she says, and cocks an eyebrow.
I think she means her vagina. “Agreed,” I say, hoping that’s what she meant. No, I’m not going to touch her, so that’s not part of the deal. I just get to watch her. Keep her close.
“When do I start?”
“Today,” I blurt out and mentally reshuffle my to-do list. The sooner the better the voice in my head says. “Now, actually.”
“All right,” she says, and looks at me suspiciously. “I’ll meet you there. Write down your address for me and I’ll be there.”
“I’ll text it to you. What’s your number?” I ask, pulling out my cell.
“Don’t have one. Just write it down and I’ll find it.”
I add getting her a phone to my to-do list. It will be a good way to keep tabs on her. I’ll always know where she is.
“I’ll have my driver take you. I insist,” I say, writing down my address anyway. I don’t know why but I really want her to have it.
“Don’t. I need to go home and get some things first? Maybe, like a shirt?” she says, and looks down at her bra.
“I can have someone retrieve your things, and give your brother the information on your new arrangement.” I look down at her cleavage again, and I know there’s no way I am letting her walk through the building like that. I also don’t want to risk her changing her mind. She agreed already, so there’s no going back.
“Whoa, calm down. I’ll just get my stuff tomorrow if it’s going to be a big deal.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly. I guess I have to make some concessions. “In the meantime, please wear my shirt so that you won’t have to walk around with only your underwear on.” It’s taking everything inside me not to hold her down and wrestle it on her myself. I don’t want anyone else seeing her like that. I feel my jaw clench when I think about her walking up to my office practically naked.
“Fine. But you didn’t win this round. I’m only allowing this because…well. Because.”
I fight the smile pulling at my lips and retrieve the shirt from the floor for a second time. I walk over and she turns her back to me while I help her put it on. When she has her arms through the sleeves she turns, and locks eyes with me while she buttons it slowly.
My cock is still hard, but now I can feel my heartbeat in my pants. My face feels hot and I start to twitch again as she puts another button through a buttonhole. It’s as if she reads my mind when her little tongue comes out and licks her full bottom lip, leaving a trail of wetness behind. I look at her pink glossy lips and I know if I kissed her, she would leave sparkles all over my face.
“Pixie dust,” I whisper and she cocks her head to the side.
“What’d you say?”
I break the spell and take a step back, realizing I said it out loud. “Nothing. We should go. I have an itinerary to keep.” I say, and walk out of my office. I need to find the air in this building. Apparently there isn’t any left in my office.
“So, you’re like Patrick Bateman right?”
“Who?” I ask as I give Rebecca the tour.
“Dude. American Psycho? Hello. Super neat freak, corporate murderer. Just asking because I don’t really want to end up being chased down a stairwell with a chainsaw or anything when I insult your business card.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about so I just continue with the tour.
Rebecca rode in the back of the town car with me in silence. I think she was just as nervous as I was. It probably didn’t help that I got on the phone with the coffee shop manager and fired him for sexual harassment. I’m sure she was happy to see him go, but she seemed uncomfortable being present while I did it. She’s lucky I had an overwhelming desire to get her in my home or I would’ve paid him a visit.
As always when we reach my building, Hank let me out, and then went back to the vehicle. He knows that almost no one is welcome inside my home, so I assume any questions he has about Rebecca, he is smart enough to keep to himself.
I said hello to Claude, the daytime doorman and overall manager of the building’s entrance. There are four other doormen who work here, but Claude is the only one I deal with. It is extremely unusual for him to see me twice in one day. Normally he’s here at five a.m. when I’m leaving for work, but the night guard is who normally greets me on my way home late in the evenings. Claude has been a doorman for decades, so anything out of the ordinary is taken in stride. He greeted Rebecca and me with courtesy, as if this is an everyday occurrence and not an oddity. I added a mental note to email him and give Rebecca full security access. I also reminded myself to beef up his Christmas bonus. Professionalism goes a long way with me.
Once Rebecca and I are inside the penthouse, I show her through the place. When you first step off the elevator there's a foyer with two large double doors. I give Rebecca my spare key, and let her know to keep it close. Claude has a key that will work in an emergency, so Rebecca is the only other person besides Hank who has the ability to enter my home. People can get off the elevator and come to the front door, but access inside is limited.
I take Rebecca through the door and show her the open floor plan. The large living space is surrounded by windows with views of the city. I love this space, and it’s a good thing, sinc
e I spend every moment I’m not at work in it. But for some reason I want her to like it too. I want her approval.
When I finish showing her the kitchen, dining room and gym, it’s time to show her the bedrooms. I have apprehensions about this because I know I’ll feel the tension of having her in my space. No one besides me has been in my bedroom, so I am preparing for the inevitable panic attack.
“So this is the dragon's lair?” she asks when I open the door to the master suite.
“This is where I sleep, yes,” I say, and brace myself for the anxiety.
Rebecca pushes by me and walks over to my bed. The master suite is quite large, with the bed in the middle of the room. I wanted to be able to face the city when I slept and this was the only way I could control that. She makes a full circle around the bed and then eventually sits on the edge of it. She looks so comfortable in my space. Like she belongs here. I feel my chest warm, and I almost want to laugh. I’ve caught a fairy.
“What’s with that smirk?” she asks and crosses her legs.
“Just wondering if this is what Peter Pan felt like,” I mumble.
“What?”
“Nothing. We should get you…”
Ding dong
I mentally go through my checklist for today and realize that’s probably Cindy for tonight's event. Fuck! How did I forget about that?
“Expecting company?” Rebecca asks and I can see the confusion on her face.
“My day was thrown off a little after I was interrupted. I forgot about a work function I have this evening,” I say, and move to leave.
Before I go to the front door I look at Rebecca sitting on my bed and realize I never had one second of panic. This is a first for me, and I don’t know exactly how to process it.
“Just stay here. I’ll handle this and be back in a few minutes.”
I make my way across the penthouse and answer the door. Cindy is standing there in a black cocktail dress. She’s always the easy choice for a work dinner. She doesn’t speak much, and knows which fork to use. I wonder how it would be if I took Rebecca instead. I shake that thought off as I allow Cindy into the living room. She has been to my home a few times, but she’s always remained inside the living area. I had forgotten, in all the chaos today, that I’d scheduled an early dinner with a potential investor and invited Cindy to attend with me, as the new client was bringing his wife.
