Boss

by Scarlett Ross

  He lowers his glasses and gives me the most bewildering look. As if trying to psychoanalyze me and see into my soul to figure out what does scare me.

  As if he can read my thoughts, he says, “What does scare you?”

  “The dark.” I immediately clap my hand over my mouth like a foolish child who just got caught telling a lie. Shit. This isn’t therapy. In this moment, I could confess my fears. Just give him the whole story, Ainslee. The dark, snakes, and being without an exit when you’re panicking. They have ways to make the whole thing happen in one environment, after all.

  “You’re scared of the dark?”

  I bristle. He’s trying to intimidate me, and I’m already frayed. “No, should I be? I mean yes, maybe as a child. Monsters generally come out at night according to folklore, and monsters are scary creatures. However, after tonight, I know there is no reason to be scared of the dark. Monsters can be anywhere, anytime. Daytime, nighttime, or in ballrooms dressed in designer tuxedos and sipping champagne.”

  His lopsided, slow smile speaks volumes. This is a little game to freak me out more, and quite frankly, it’s working. But it’s my time to call it, and I am. Uprighting myself, I push off the ledge of the terrace and start toward the ballroom.

  “There are worst creatures lurking in the dark than monsters. Sometimes the heroes can be the bad monsters you dream of. Of course, sometimes, the bad monsters can be the knights in shining armor. Maybe they look scary because their appearance isn’t what it seems. You see, no one here is what they seem, Ainslee, with the exception of me. I am a monster. My father is a monster. He’s looking to make you scream and cry as all bad monsters do. Want a little secret, though? I’m a good monster, so you can trust me. I just want your heart. I won’t eat it, but I may devour your body in the process.”

  There is nothing in the entire world that could have prepared me to hear him say this. It is the single most terrifying, exciting, and mind-blowing thing anyone has ever said to me. My entire body goes up in flames but quickly cools back down, and the shivers take hold. Shaking uncontrollably more than I have all evening, I feel like fainting dead away.

  “Abort, Simon. Abort,” I whisper into my boobs.

  “I’m pro-choice myself,” Evan is behind me close enough to hear what I just thought I silently whispered. Fuck. Am I caught? Wrapping my arms around myself to try to control the shaking, I feel a warm jacket being laid around my shoulders.

  “Take my jacket. It’s cold, and your attire isn’t exactly the stuff of warmth.”

  “Thank you,” I mutter.

  “Can I have just one more minute of your time, please? I want to show you something,” he says, extending his bear claw of a hand to me. I take it without thinking, and he leads me back to the ledge. He positions me in front of him and closes his arms on either side of my body. The warmth coming off him is comforting, and for the strangest reason, my body stops shaking. His chest is pressed firmly against my back, and the need to lean away would take over if I wasn’t fearful of plummeting to my death over the ledge.

  “I owe you an apology. Your arrival here triggered some emotions in me that were unwarranted. My family has a lot to protect, and your presence seemed to make me believe the intent was to regain what you once had. My father may have a different take on your family, but my memories are limited to only fond ones of your dad. Granted, I only had a few interactions with him, but they were nothing to bring about scorn. The circumstances of the fall are subject to many theories, and I reserve my own. But my treatment of you should only reflect how I feel about you, not how my family feels. I hope we can work together amicably from now on.”

  Blow me over with a feather, is this really happening? Is this brutal man apologizing to me and promising adequate treatment? Deciding to test the boundaries, I go out on a limb.

  “And lunch? Will I still be expected to fetch like an obedient little pet?”

  Chuckling, he lifts one arm to remove his glasses and massage the bridge of his nose. His eyes. They are such a dark shade of green, undefinable by any name I can think of to describe the color. They meet mine and turn another shade or two darker. Our breath is making little plumes of air from the cold air, and he pockets the glasses.

  “Turn around. Look at the sky.”

  Resuming his position with both arms caging me, he leans in closer to whisper in my ear. The ear with a listening device in it. Shit.

  “The first day you brought me my lunch, and you did that little rumba with the doorknob?”

  “Hmm.” I hum and bring my hand back to stroke his cheek in an attempt to move him away from my ear.

  “Your ass moving against the door was mesmerizing. I can’t get the image out of my head. I lay awake at night, stroking myself and wishing so much it was your ass against me rubbing. Forgive me, but I can’t help it. You’ve had me in a trance since then, and I meant what I said. I want it all. Your heart, your body, all of it.”

  My hand continues to stroke, but my eyes are glazing over at his words. As if in a trance myself, I start to move my ass against him, slowly and softly to see if he notices. He notices. The arms encasing me drop to my hips, and his forehead moves back to the nape of my neck. The hand I was using pops out the earbud and tosses it over the ledge. But my little seduction doesn’t stop. I’m completely in a trance and all my thoughts are on the hardness of his cock against my ass. He pivots my hips back and forth. Grinding into him, I swear I can hear him breathing out my name with each grind. Ainslee, Ainslee. He rocks harder and rubs his length up and down. We are having a naughty little rumba right here, and arching my back, I push more. His hands grip me tighter while his lips replace his forehead on my neck. Kissing and licking and biting, he starts a pattern. His lips match the timing of his cock, and I was right. He is calculated in every aspect of his life. Even in getting himself and his partner off.

  “This is crazy. A room full of three hundred of New York’s most influential citizens are fifty feet behind us, but I don’t give a fuck about anything but your ass on my cock. Ainslee, you are going to be my undoing. None of this will end well, but I will devour you. I may be a monster, but trust me, you will be screaming from pleasure and not fear.”

  Rocking harder against him, I start to feel myself come, and the man has not even touched me between my legs. Yes, I’m getting some friction from our dry humping, but normally, I would need much more for a release. This is unheard of for me. The sensation is unlike anything I have ever experienced. It’s hot and wild and maddening. And so delicious that the stress of the last few weeks wash away and moaning, I fall forward onto the ledge as Evan rubs one last time against me grunting. He comes too and in a five-thousand-dollar tuxedo, no less.

  “Look at me, Ainslee, look at me.” Evan’s voice is insistent and pulls me out of the trance. Smiling like the cat who got the cream, I turn to see a much different man than the one I just had a sexual encounter with. He is pulling out his glasses and straightening his pants.

  “This didn’t happen. None of it. You are still my assistant and nothing more, so no hearts and flowers over what a simple chemical reaction this was. You can still be excused from bringing my lunch, but I expect you to address me in a professional way. Have a good night.”

  Evan strolls away, and I’m left with wet panties and his jacket still hugging me. Part of me wants to scream, and the other part knows there is no need. We both know neither one of us is going to forget what happened.

  “Simon, if you can still hear me, I’m coming down. Oh, and if you heard anything that just happened? I am going to need a recording of it.”

  I walk hurriedly to the terrace door and push it open, ignoring every head that turns to stare my way. Regina is rushing toward me, and I quickly make my way to the elevator in the back of the ballroom. This could very well mean my termination, but after what just happened, my mind and body need to take a step back.

  Pushing the down button, I lean my forehead against the cool steel of the elevator door. Wh
en it opens, I collapse against the back wall and just try to remember to breathe. I find my breath, and as I do, the last thing I see in the ballroom is Evan looking at me with a secret smile on his face.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “WHAT THE FUCK was that all about? It sounded like you two were screwing. I mean, way to create a diversion to give me some time, but damn, girl.” Simon is aghast as I head over to where he is typing away on one of the intern’s computers. He has a stolen glass of some dark liquor, and I go over and down it. My throat burns, but my mind needs to be numb right now.

  “Hey Ainslee, be careful, okay? You seem shook up. I know you have this big plot, but you’re looking a little thrown. Everything good?”

  I nod and cough from the sensation still tickling. This was not the way tonight was supposed to go. My plan was supposed to be going forward full throttle, but my panties tell a different story. Why did he do that? Was it sincere or just another calculated move on Evan’s part to remind me that no one is immune to the charms of the Monroe men? Will I be canned tomorrow for my fallen performance of the quintessential ideal employee? An audience of my enemies just witnessed me breaking, but an audience of one witnessed me in carnal bliss. What does this say about me? I just don’t know.

  “What do you have so far?”

  “Nothing concrete, but this system has about a million programs and files. This is Pentagon level shit. I have yet to make heads or tails of it. I’m in my dummy account under one of the interns, but so much is mere fluff. Press releases, news articles, and all that junk. The meat and potatoes aren’t coming so easy. Do you ever hear a word of a particular program they use? Anything? Sounds like you were cozy enough with one of them to have at least heard of a program.”

  “Simon, enough. What you heard was just another of my ploys, okay? I needed a captive audience so you could do reconnaissance, and I told you from the beginning, I wasn’t above doing what it takes. That was what it took, so just drop it.”

  “You sure?”

  “What the hell do you mean?”

  “I mean, you obviously just had an intimate encounter, to put it lightly, and yet you seem fine. You’re not upset or even mad. You seem honestly elated. Am I on a fool’s mission, Ainslee? Is this still you getting back what was yours or just for show? It’s your dollars being spent, and I am happy to take them regardless, but my opinion? They’re getting to you. The fire and drive you relayed to me when we met is gone. Answer me honestly. Are the men of Monroe Enterprises getting to you?”

  Enraged, choice curse words and a speech of how completely wrong his assumptions are prompt me to say, “I am completely infatuated with them.” What the fuck. How did these words ever come into fruition in my mind? Simple, my mind says. PJ watching you undress, Jamison and his clothed striptease, Evan dry humping you, and every look Merrick gives you.

  “Simon this is a game to them. I know I’m nothing but a toy that they wind up and see how far it can go before it falls off the table. My family was destroyed by these people. Nothing else matters but taking back what was once ours.”

  Pushing back his chair and picking up the USB drive stuck into the computer, Simon faces me.

  “Ainslee, this was a vendetta from the start, right? I get your need for revenge. This city destroyed your family, and all the men had a hand in it, right? But was it them directly? These are the sons of the men who did. It may seem all connected, but somehow, I don’t think it is. They seem to like tormenting you, but I don’t see the same agenda on their minds as their fathers. The company was basically inherited by them, right?”

  “Yes and no. Their fathers took grievous action against mine when they knew he was out of his mind. The man was a walking basket case after Mom died. They could have been shoving anything under his nose, and he wouldn’t see what he was signing from the tears spilling out. The evil of preying on a grieving man and a grieving young girl is too much to bear. Retribution must be made.”

  “But to whom? How far does the apple fall from the tree, Ainslee? My guess is a hell of a lot further than you are imagining.”

  “So just because I have a little crush on the big bad boss boys, that’s it? They get off scot-free? What about the torments? The bullying? The outright disdain that comes from Merrick when he gazes my way?”

  “Your call. Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

  “You think I’m weak, don’t you? One encounter designed to help aid our quest and its hello lover, goodbye plans? My whole life has been leading up to being here, and now I’m just supposed to stop? Bed down with them a few times, make copies, and run errands? Where is my life in the scenario? I deserve more. My father deserves more. Feelings change, people change, and this little fleeting fancy will change next week when I am back to being tormented.”

  Simon comes around the desk and deposits the USB drive into my hand. He holds it tightly in my palm and brushes away a few strands of hair that have escaped my updo.

  “I didn’t get much. You have administrative access under a dummy account I created, but I advise not using it during office hours since IT could be monitoring. But this gives you what I uncovered which really isn’t much. They seem pretty sound in their business dealings. The only thing that looked slightly suspect was a folder marked Alpha Corporation. It was quite small in size for a file, but only one person had access to it—Merrick Monroe. I suggest digging into that a little more.” He turns to leave, and I realize he isn’t just leaving; he’s quitting the assignment altogether.

  “So that’s it? You’re just going to quit on me? Because I got a little freaky with one of the men? Jealous it wasn’t you getting your rocks off up there instead of me?” I visibly wince as I say this last part. Simon has been nothing but a good friend, and my attitude is completely inexcusable. So much for the afterglow lasting after my amazing orgasm.

  “Ainslee, I tell you this out of deep admiration and caring for you as a friend and person. Stop now. You’re in over your head here. Nothing will be accomplished by this quest for vengeance. These men are ruthless. But you’re clearly falling for them. Never forget how incredibly tight that line is between love and hate. Call me if you want to talk, but I’m out. Just remember that perhaps the apple does indeed fall from the tree.” He smiles at me sadly and gives me a half-wave.

  Everything is coming unraveled so quickly, and I am at a complete loss on how to deal with it. Sitting down and staring into space, my mind is a blank. Like a giant black hole with no matter spinning in it, just an empty mass of nothingness. Maybe this is a fool’s mission like Simon said, but I refuse to give up now. Resigning myself to being down my most important ally of all, other than Savannah, I gather up my coat and purse. Heading to the elevator, my body screams out for food, a hot bath, and bed in that exact order. Aunt Colleen and Chelsea will be out for hours still; I can hear the party’s hubbub in full swing. This will give me a brief respite and time to plan my defense against my actions tomorrow morning.

  The morning dawns, and my anxiety seems to be less though my body feels the full effects of the battle. Shoulders aching, neck kinked, lower back humming with pain that extends down my legs thanks to those sadistic heels I wore. Last night, after Mr. Barrett drove me home, complete with a carb fest courtesy of Taco Bell drive-thru, I laid in bed and really thought about my options. Simon’s departure set me back sure, but I had the access now to the programs I needed thanks to his handiwork. The sadness of losing him does hurt, but it doesn’t necessarily surprise me. I read somewhere that it takes a certain person to really have the stomach for revenge. Considering mine was laden with tacos and stress, and I survived the night, I feel rather sure I am that kind of person. Okay, so the men have affected me in ways I didn’t think they would. However, it doesn’t change anything in my mind, sexy or not, I’m still taking them down. And not by the way of their pants either.

  Taking a long hot shower and making myself feel more human and less odorless—Merrick’s mother’s words will be ringing in my ears for
days—I pick out the best outfit I have. Savannah did me proud and mixed sexy office apparel with conservative office wear. Today seems like a confident but sexy day. Skinny black pants, sheer but lacy camisole under a structured but boxy jacket. Kendra Scott earrings and necklace and back to my comfortable pumps courtesy of Dad. Sexy may mean heels, but my feet will revolt over anything higher than two inches. Heading downstairs, I pray that the night was so late that Chelsea and Aunt Colleen are still slumbering. However, as I head down, I can hear their voices and steel myself for the barbs about to be thrown my way.

  Both sit side by side and I sidle down as quietly as possible. They are talking about me. Ainslee isn’t too often a name mentioned without purpose.

  Chelsea is slowly maneuvering her soft boiled egg with the spoon to look like she is eating. Given her figure and what I see, this is a common habit. She tries to seem too involved in conversation to eat much. But I see a trail of Doritos’s crumbs each night, so she is a quiet eater who enjoys being a picky eater. Me? I left about twelve Taco Bell wrappers in my room, which I will scavenge through later to make sure I didn’t miss a morsel since my meal plan has been cut off. Aunt Colleen is drinking Earl Grey and holding her pinkie out. Having tea at home or with Queen Elizabeth makes no never mind to her. I do delight in knowing she hates tea according to Mom and takes about seven sugars in each cup. I pick up snippets.

  “Made a fool of herself . . .”

  “Should join her father back in Cambridge . . .”

  “Positively the most despicable display ever in the history of the party . . .”

  Listening, I desperately want to react. Track marks? Made a fool? These women are cunts. I never say that word, so the anger I feel is too consuming to make allowances for any other words. How could this be my family’s last remaining friends? Damn. How far did we have to fall to make these people our allies? I run the word ally in my internal dictionary, and it just doesn’t fit.

  Walking tall and pretending I heard nothing, I grace them with a breezy hello. Chelsea picks at me first. “Well, if isn’t Miss Ainslee Adams. Should we pick up some smelling salts? Your exit last night had us wondering.”