Consumed By You (The Consumed Series Book 1)

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Consumed By You (The Consumed Series Book 1) Page 2

by Alicia Marino


  She immediately apologizes out of politeness. “Look at me, prying. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no. It’s fine. It’s just a sore subject for me.”

  “Of course.” Her gaze darts to the antique clock hanging on the wall. “Already five and you’re still here. I’m impressed. Come on, I’ll head out with you. I just have to make sure I’m free to go.”

  She picks up her petite pocketbook and I follow her out of the room. She knocks on the Greek god’s door and already accustomed to his familiar low rasp, I hear him command her to enter. I shuffle a few steps to the side hastily so he can’t see me, wanting some time to gather and recuperate before our second meeting. I’ve embarrassed myself enough today.

  “All right, Ben, I’m off if you don’t need me.”

  Ben? She really does know him well.

  Maybe one day I’ll be able to talk to him like that.

  Oh, please. You’ll be lucky to call him Benjamin, let alone Ben.

  “I’m fine. You can go.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night, Doris.” There’s a moment of silence, then he asks, “Doris, is Miss Fontaine still here?”

  Kill me now.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Send her in, please. I want to speak with her.”

  She walks out of the office, motioning for me to go in. I gulp and force my legs to move forward, unsteadily gliding past her into the lion’s den. I step into the room and catch him lean back in his seat. He’s lost the jacket, and shedding down to his dress shirt, my eyes feast briefly on the way the pressed broadcloth conforms to a long torso, neck held tight by a silver tie.

  “Shut the door, please,” he requests politely, and my stomach drops to the floor. I do as he asks and turn back to look at him. “Take a seat. I won’t bite.”

  He gestures to the leather seat in front of him.

  I sit, pulling down my dress nervously even though it needs no adjusting. “Am I in trouble?”

  He regards me intensely. “No. You’re my new assistant. I’d like to know more about you since I wasn’t able to perform the interview myself.”

  “Oh.”

  “Let’s start with you telling me about yourself.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  To my everlasting horror, he waits, not offering a word.

  Shit. “I’m a literature major.”

  “Literature.” He contemplates that for a moment. “So why did you apply to my company? Wouldn’t it have suited you better to apply for a position downstairs in the publishing house I own?”

  Crap. Was that just a polite way to say he doesn’t want me as his assistant?

  “I was offered an interview for this job, so I took the opportunity.”

  He taps a pen against work laid out neatly on his desk. It’s distracting. “Honest. I like that.”

  I fold my hands in my lap and hold his gaze in an attempt to gain the upper hand. I doubt I’ll achieve my goal, but it’s worth a try.

  “How long have you lived in New York?” he asks and I simmer down, relieved he’s asking questions now.

  My head is too conflicted to think about how to make myself sound more appealing. I don’t even know why I’m trying to make him desire me. He’s my boss, we could never be together.

  “I’ve lived here for seven years now.”

  His full brows rise with intrigue. “Seven years. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  “So you moved here at sixteen?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you live with your family still? Boyfriend?”

  “No, no boyfriend. I live by myself.”

  “You moved out at sixteen?” he asks, his voice a low and captivating rumble. I could listen to him speak all day.

  “Yes.”

  His chin sets, his eyes ardently sweeping over my features in study. I’m barely breathing.

  “You must be brave.”

  In a disjointed moment of panic, I notice his hands crossed on the desk and feel myself blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. “You don’t have a ring on. Girlfriend?”

  He noticeably pauses and I instantly want to fling myself out of one of these spotless windows. My face heats with the force of ten thousand fiery suns.

  I can’t believe I just asked my boss that. He’s going to fire me.

  “Uh, no. I don’t date, Darcy.” His forehead creases as he inspects me closely.

  “Oh.”

  “I date, but I don’t date exclusively.”

  “Ah, I get it.”

  Of course he’s a player. Why wouldn’t he be? With his looks, he could play any field and score. Neither of us says anything else for a while, which leaves us sitting in muted thoughtfulness.

  “Is that all you wanted to ask?” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

  His pupils darken a shade, making the green hue seem almost gray as they inquisitively slide over my face, the simple necklace dangling from my throat, the belt hugging my waistline, ending on the angled slit that’s widened on my thigh, revealing pale skin.

  When they dart back up to my face, they burn right through me.

  “Yes. You’re free to go.” He rises from his seat of commanding influence. I stand with him.

  “Have a good night, Mr. Scott.” I pivot toward the large double doors.

  “Good night, Darcy.” I glance back at him once more after hearing his warmer goodbye, pushing the door open to begin my long trek home.

  Doris is sitting on the chair in his lobby when I get down the hall. I resist pressing my hand to my forehead to check for perspiration. “Gosh, you didn’t have to wait for me!”

  “I was dying to know what that was about,” she whispers, pressing the elevator button.

  “It was strange. He didn’t ask much. He said he wanted to know a few things about me since I was his new assistant. Did he do that with you?”

  She shakes her head. “No, but then again I have known him for ages. It’s a good sign. He must have liked you.”

  My heart involuntarily leaps at just the mere thought of that being true.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The alarm sounds loudly in my ear and I whimper tiredly, placing the pillow over my head.

  Just a couple more minutes…

  The realization of what today is suddenly makes me sit upright in my bed in a panic.

  It’s my first day. I’m no longer in training. A swarm of hyper butterflies slam against the rippling walls of my stomach.

  God, why am I so nervous? I’ve sustained myself in this nocturnal playground of a city for quite some time now. I know I can do the work. I push aside the covers and gravitate toward the bathroom to shower.

  While I lather my hair with foamy shampoo that smells of lavender, I think about the real reason for my recent daily panic attacks.

  Benjamin Scott.

  The most gorgeous, successful man I’ve ever met. My boss. The boss that I’m going to spend the entire day with. Alone.

  Can I do this?

  For ten thousand a month and weekends off? Hell yes I can.

  I’ll finally be able to leave this hellhole of an apartment. I’ve always loved this city, but I’ve happened upon enough rats in my hallway to last me a lifetime.

  I step out onto the cold tile and wrap the towel around me, mentally planning what to wear. I need to look professional. Professional but good.

  I date, but I don’t date exclusively.

  I remember the words he said in his office like it was yesterday.

  Hmpf. I’m sure women fall all over him.

  I gravitate to my miniscule poor excuse of a closet, searching hastily through my meager selection of outfits, determined to be early today.

  Annoyed that nothing catches my eye, I pick a nude knee-length dress and move over to my dresser mirror to hold it up to my body, wondering if the material will complement the endless curves I can’t seem to get rid of. I slip it on, pull up the zipper, and turn to look at
myself. It’ll do.

  I stalk off back into the bathroom to try to figure out what to do to my hair.

  ***

  “Good morning, Miss Fontaine,” Kate, the blonde receptionist at the end of the hall, calls out in greeting when I step out of the elevator.

  “Good morning. Please call me Darcy.”

  “He likes black coffee with a shot of espresso,” she divulges conspiringly the moment I’m within whispering distance.

  “Oh shit, I didn’t even think of that. Thank you.” I grimace. “And I’m sorry I just said shit.”

  She flicks her chin to the side, her Barbie locks swaying in the air as she laughs. I swear it happens in slow motion. “It’s not a crime to cuss.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I appreciate it.” I make my way to my office to drop off my bags, immediately exiting to locate the break room. I hope I remember where Doris showed me.

  After a few wrong turns, I step into the employee lounge that actually resembles something like a restaurant. There are colorful pastries and thick stacks of sandwiches lined up along one whole side of a wall, while a coffee machine hovers like a guard in the other corner. I resist running over to grab a powdered croissant and hurry to brew the drink for the boss.

  I’m entering my office just as the phone on my desk starts to ring. I run over to get it. Before I even say anything, his forcible voice grumbles, “My office.”

  He sounds mad. Am I late? I look at the clock and notice that I’m actually early.

  What the hell?

  I pick up his mug and tap on his door, bracing myself.

  “Come in.”

  I step into the room and immediately walk over to put his drink on the desk.

  “For the record, you don’t have to knock every time you come in. Only if I’m with someone.”

  He looks up from his computer and I’m blown away by how the light makes his irises practically translucent. He’s wearing glasses, and holy crap, I’ve never found glasses sexy till now. I’m sure they’re Prada or Armani or some other expensive brand, framing his eyes with slim onyx rims.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He glances down at the mug of rich coffee, then over at the empty mug already next to him.

  “Black, shot of espresso?” he asks with a hint of astonishment, and I nod. He looks pleased and it makes me want to leap in the air.

  Jesus, get ahold of yourself, Fontaine.

  “I got my own this morning. I didn’t expect you to know yet. I’m impressed, Miss Fontaine.”

  I smile proudly, knowing I need to thank Kate sometime today. This may be the only time he’s nice to me.

  “These are the memos I need you to get out today.” He hands me a stack of thick binders. “Then I have a few documents that need to be written. I have a lunch engagement, so I need you to get me a reservation at one of the restaurants on the list in your office. Let me know which one by eleven.”

  He picks up the fresh mug of coffee and brings it to his lips, turning back to his work on the computer.

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hurry out of the office as fast as I can in heels and back to my office, dropping the piles onto the desk.

  Here we go.

  ***

  As soon as I hang up the phone at a quarter to eleven, I phone Benjamin.

  “Yes?”

  “Your reservation is at Ayada at noon, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hangs up and I let out a deep breath, relieved he was okay with Thai cuisine. I’m halfway done with the memos when my phone rings. The screen displays “front desk.”

  “Hello?”

  “Darcy, Mr. Scott’s guest is on her way to you. Elizabeth Nichols.”

  “Thank you, Kate.”

  I press the button for Benjamin’s extension.

  “Yes, Miss Fontaine?” He sounds annoyed.

  “Elizabeth Nichols is here to see you.”

  “Yes. Send her in.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I hop up, and just as I turn the corner to meet his guest, I find a long-legged runway model headed straight toward me.

  “Miss Nichols, he is expecting you.”

  She doesn’t even glance in my direction, just strides straight past me into his office. An amused smile tugs on the corners of my mouth. All right, then. A few minutes later, she reemerges from the double doors, Benjamin following closely behind her.

  He pops his head into my office. “You’re free to go to lunch. I need the memos by three.”

  He disappears then, their shoes echoing down the hallway. I grab my lunch that I made at home and head toward the break room, relaxing when there is no one in the room.

  I’m eating my chicken salad sandwich in peace when a man walks through the door carrying takeout. He has a huge smile plastered on his face, and for a moment I wonder if Benjamin Scott only hires models. This guy is also Hollywood beautiful.

  His hair is cut short and gelled to perfection, a natural dirty blond color. He’s thin, his body lean like that of a devoted runner. His dress shirt is rolled at the sleeves, missing a tie. I have no clue why I’m comparing him to Benjamin in my mind.

  “You must be Darcy, the new assistant everyone here is talking about.” He grins, walking over to sit next to me.

  “Yep, that’s me.”

  “Well, you’re still here, so that’s a good sign. Boss man hasn’t scared you away yet?”

  “I’m fine,” I lie, mustering up an expression to sell my validity.

  He peers at me in amusement, his ocean deep eyes teasing. “He’s my little brother. You don’t have to lie to me. I know how he is,” he says, his cheeks creasing with amusement.

  “Oh, I didn’t know he had a brother.”

  “And a sister. I’m adopted, but we’re all technically related. That doesn’t mean he’s not a dick here, though.” I gape at him. “You have a lot to learn, newbie. That will be his middle name by the time the week’s through.”

  “Do you do this with all the newbies? Scare them to death?”

  “I think you can take it.”

  “I can,” I snap back confidently, and he bursts into laughter, completely at ease with himself.

  “I like you already. Optimistic babe. Who could ask for more?”

  I look down at my half-eaten sandwich, surprised by his candor.

  “You’re blushing,” he points out.

  “You’re kind of forward.”

  “Most women like that in a man.”

  That causes me to finally meet his gaze. He is flirting with me. What do I even say to that?

  He leans back in his chair, so far that the front legs lift off the ground. “Would you like to go out later?”

  “What? Like tonight? Like a date?”

  “Yes to both questions.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  He purses his lips in rejection. I can see “no” is not something he hears often. “Why not?”

  “For one, you work with me, I think.”

  His smile softens. “I run the publishing house downstairs. I came up to see my brother, but the receptionist told me he went to lunch and that you were in here. I was intrigued.”

  “Do you get intrigued often?” I question him, sarcasm dripping through my tone.

  “You’re different than I expected.”

  “Different how?” I get up to throw the remains of my sandwich into the trash bin. When I turn around, I catch him giving me a thorough once-over. While the wantonness was enormously attractive coming from Benjamin Scott, this man falls short of pulling it off.

  “Oh yeah, that’s attractive,” I mutter, narrowing my eyes, and he hums, finally acknowledging my annoyed expression.

  “Go out with me.”

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Alexander. Alex to you.”

  “Well, Alex, I must be getting back to work. I have a ton left to do.”

  He groans. “One date. It can’t hurt.”

  “Maybe some other t
ime,” I call out over my shoulder.

  ***

  It’s two when I get a knock at the door. I tear my thoughts from the ledger in front of me long enough to answer.

  “Come in.”

  Benjamin opens the door and reactively, my back straightens rigidly with awareness. “May I come in?”

  I nod, unable to form words. His wild waves are windblown from being outside in the frigid New York weather. “I have a business trip from Monday until Wednesday in Seattle. A fundraiser we are throwing from our smaller branch there. Doris told you about that branch?”

  “Yes, and the ones in Texas and Miami.”

  “My driver will take us from here to the airport. Be here at six a.m. Monday morning.”

  Wait, what?

  “I’m going?”

  “Yes. Is that a problem?” His voice is as sharp as razors, which makes it easy to concede to his demand.

  “No problem at all, sir.”

  “Where are you with the work I gave you?”

  “I’m finished.” I pick up the stack I’ve done, extending the sheets to him. He takes them from me and starts to flip through the pages on the spot. I hope I did everything right.

  He nods after a moment. “You’re doing extremely well, Miss Fontaine. You’re surprising me at every corner.”

  “Surprising? How?”

  “You’re smart.”

  His tone sends a displeasing chill down my spine. For the first time since meeting him, I drift out of the binding hold he normally has around me, scowling in disbelief. “Yes, some women are.”

  “Not many.”

  “Maybe not the women you associate yourself with,” I mutter under my breath, paling when I realize I said that out loud. I expect him to scream and shout, hell, even fire me, but he just regards me silently, his eyes shrewd and assessing. He’s trying to read me.

  I bravely hold his tempestuous gaze until his lips turn up ever so slightly. “Wow, you are brave. A comment like that to your boss and no apology.”

  I exhale in a rush as soon as he disappears from my office then suck the gulp of air right in when he storms back with an enormously large amount of paperwork.

  “Since you’re so able, Miss Fontaine, I’d like you to compile these contracts for me.”

 

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