Please (Please #1)

by Willow Summers

  “So anyway, uh…how many days do you work?” I asked. I needed to change the subject. To dislodge his intent, focused stare.

  “Seven.”

  “Yikes. No breaks, huh? All work and no play makes Jack a very dull boy.” I speared another piece of ravioli.

  “Sometimes that’s best. Being dull.” Finally his gaze dipped, leaving me.

  I sucked in a deep breath. I kind of wanted to comment, or ask why he needed to work so much, but I no longer wanted to try and get to know him. The man was gorgeous, and he had a hold on me. I didn’t want to learn he was also interesting. That way led to signing a contract, or worse, losing my heart. The last person on earth I should lose my heart to was this man. I didn’t need his warning to know that, either. I just needed to watch the female eyes in the room. They always found him.

  Yes, Hunter Carlisle was very dangerous. Best to steer clear.

  We finished our meal fairly quickly. Afterward, Hunter walked me to the corner and stopped. He faced me. “How will you get home?”

  “Bus.” I glanced down the street. “They come pretty regularly.”

  “I’ll have my driver take you.”

  “No, I’m okay.” I waved away the offer and stepped in the direction of the bus stop. “I’ve been living in the city for four months—I’m well familiar with the bus system.”

  His tone deepened. “It’s late and the streets are dangerous.” He stepped closer, his body looming over me, his physical presence dominating my space. I felt the electric buzz of his proximity. “I’ll have you taken home.”

  I stared up into those deep brown eyes and felt my resolve weaken. His arm came around me, possessive and commanding. His hand settled on the familiar place on my back. Not able to help myself, I leaned into him, my hand bracing on his hard chest.

  “Yes, okay,” I said quietly. He’d won another battle. If I didn’t stop saying yes, he’d win the war and make me his. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Chapter Seven

  Brenda was ready for me with another piece of paper when I arrived at work the next day. I had barely settled into my chair before she was laying it on my desk along with the cup of coffee for Hunter.

  “You can’t possibly have more filing,” I pleaded, picking up the paper.

  She snorted as she moved back to her seat. “No, no more filing. I let Mr. Carlisle know that you didn’t complain once yesterday—I think that’s a record.”

  I glanced over the lengthy list. It seemed mostly composed of various articles of clothing.

  “I think you gave me the wrong thing,” I said, glancing at my email as soon as my computer booted up. I had one item of company propaganda and a lot of blank space.

  My instant messenger pinged.

  Hunter Carlisle: Good morning. Come to my office.

  “Please,” I muttered under my breath to finish his sentence for him. The man could do with some lessons on etiquette.

  “That’s the right one,” Brenda said, settling into her chair. “You’ll see.”

  Frowning at her, because I didn’t like that last comment, I dropped the paper, picked up the coffee and a notepad, and made my way into Hunter’s office. When I got about halfway, he glanced up from his desk, clean-shaven and bright eyed. He held up something as I neared.

  “What’s that?” I asked, placing his coffee at the corner of his desk before bending forward to take the piece of plastic I recognized as a credit card.

  “My company card. When you sign on—”

  “If,” I interrupted absently.

  His eyes turned sharp. “When you sign on, you’ll get a permanent one.”

  My mouth turned into a duckbill as I held the card, thinking of what he’d need that I’d have to run out for. He continued, “You are to take the day to find suitable attire for someone working in my office.”

  Insecurity created a tightness in my chest. I glanced down at my unflattering pink blouse and gray skirt.

  Hunter must’ve seen my reaction, because he said, “This is a perk of the job. This is not specific to you, though I’m sure you’ll appreciate it the most. Brenda will give you a list of items I usually ask that my admins wear. Some of those items…will not be necessary with our current arrangement. However, if you want to update your lingerie, you may take advantage of it.”

  I flushed, but remained silent.

  “There is a list of retailers I prefer you use. If you choose to shop outside of those retailers, please make sure the quality is comparable. After today, any time you feel you need work clothes, feel free to use that card. Likewise, any time you need transportation, which does not include the bus, use that card. Save your receipts and turn them into Brenda. She will not review your purchases unless she thinks you’re abusing the privilege, so don’t feel embarrassed about whatever items of clothing you might need. Questions?”

  I shook my head dumbly, half excited to go on a shopping spree, and half self-conscious of my current wardrobe.

  “And buy yourself a new handbag—I can’t bear to look at that blue monstrosity.” He glanced away toward his computer, but before I lost sight of his face, I saw the small smile curving his lips.

  “It’s a very handy bag,” I said with faux disdain as I turned for the door.

  “And Olivia…” I looked back. “Go wild. I can afford it.”

  With my seemingly constant red face, I walked out to my desk and picked up the piece of paper. To Brenda I said, “Do you get to buy clothes on the company dime?”

  “On Mr. Carlisle’s dime, yes. He’s picky. Works for me. I’ll take free clothes any day.”

  “He said company card,” I muttered as I noticed his name across the plastic.

  “I’m sure he finds a way to write it off, but that’s his personal account. He has others, of course—this is the one he uses for us. Take it, darling. He can afford it.”

  I shut down my computer and grabbed my blue monstrosity. With a sly grin, I said, “Who am I to argue?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” I gave her a small wave as I walked by her desk.

  “Yep. And good work yesterday. You really helped me out. I hate doing that stuff.”

  Her laughter followed me down the hall toward the elevator. I couldn’t help but chuckle along with her.

  The day passed in a whir of extravagance. The list of retailers was all top of the line and extremely expensive. I would never, and I mean never, shop at those places with my own money, even if this was my job forever and I was making a ton of money. Five hundred dollars for a shirt? A thousand for slacks? Outrageous. But Hunter said spend, and Brenda said I had better shut up and just do it, so here I was, charging two grand for the first store alone.

  First I bought just the plain essentials—skirts, pants (which was okay, since I hadn’t signed that personal contract), and blouses. But as the day wore on, I thought more and more of my appearance and my situation, and the fact that I never really let go. I didn’t hide within my clothes, but I didn’t flaunt it, either. My body wasn’t rock star, but I did have some curve, and I did have some cleavage. With my cheap-food diet these last four months, I was also smaller than I’d been in a few years. Why not let loose a little?

  “You know what, do you have anything…a little sexier?” I asked the overanxious saleslady with my customary red face.

  She gave me a sly smile. “Absolutely.”

  After we roamed the store a second time while I blushed so often the red probably looked painted on, I paid the bill and decided to head for home. Only…I didn’t really have any good lingerie. Most of my panties were cotton and boring. My bras supported me fine, but were drab.

  I bit my lip and thought about what Hunter had said. I didn’t need to buy them for him, but I could still buy them for me. And I needed some new stuff—wearing cute and sexy lingerie every once in a while made a girl feel special. Made her feel as sexy as the black lace hugging her body. I hadn’t had that feeling in a very lon
g time.

  Why not? He can afford it.

  Without another thought, I took off to the final store, intending to buy all the things I’d looked at over the years but backed away from because they were too expensive.

  Watch out world, Olivia has someone else’s credit card!

  The next day I showed up wearing one of the plainer outfits, a silk blouse in mauve with a pinstriped skirt. I came around my desk as Brenda walked into the area with two cups of coffee.

  “Oh, you’re here. Great. Here you go.” She set the coffee cup on my desk.

  I dropped my stuff, including an extremely cute, and seriously expensive, new handbag, and held my breath as I reached for the coffee. As expected, Brenda glanced at my outfit.

  “You look nice.” She sipped her coffee as she made her way to her chair.

  I felt my brow climb toward my hairline as I waited for more. Maybe a comment on the quality. Or the cost.

  When she ignored me so she could check her email, I figured that was it. Hopefully, that also meant I was in the clear.

  So far, so good.

  I turned on my computer and picked up the cup of coffee. I pushed open the door and walked into the room with an even step, trying to act like I dressed in thousands of dollars worth of clothing every day.

  Hunter sat at his desk, handsome as ever. He glanced up when I neared, gave me a brief once-over, and said, “How did you get to work today?”

  I stuttered in my step with the unexpected question and nearly sloshed the coffee all over his desk. I jerked the cup away from important papers, and then to the side, worried there’d be backsplash and I’d get some on my new clothes. The scorching liquid splashed over the side of the cup and dripped down my hand.

  “Ow!” I set the cup on the floor before shaking out my hand.

  “Here.” Hunter jumped up, ripped off his jacket, and held it out to my hand.

  “No!” I screeched, yanking my hand away as the burning subsided into red, inflamed skin. “You probably paid thirty grand for that jacket!”

  “It’s just money, Olivia,” he said, reaching. “Give me your hand.”

  The deep-toned command dripped down my back pleasantly. I slowed in my movements, allowing him to take my arm. The silk of the inside of his jacket came around my hand and wrist to wipe off the moisture.

  I closed my eyes at his touch. Felt his fingers curled around my upper arm and the warmth from his nearness seeping through my blouse and lacy white bra. My nipples constricted as he pulled away his jacket to look at the damage.

  A soft tug on my arm had me willingly following him around his desk. He yanked open his top drawer. A couple squares of foil caught the sun.

  Condoms.

  My sex swelled and my breathing turned heavy. I willed him to grab one of those. I wanted him to bend me over the desk, my flaming skin be damned. But his hand reached over and pulled out a package of wet wipes instead.

  Items used for cleanup.

  I wanted him to fuck me.

  “Oh God,” I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut as my fierce desire warred with logic.

  Please initiate something, Hunter. I’ll say yes right here, consequences be damned.

  “This’ll make it feel better.” His deep tone rumbled through my body. His touch danced across the skin on my arm. The wipe cooled my burning skin.

  My sex pounded, craving attention.

  “Hunter,” I whispered.

  His movements slowed. His fingers, checking my wound, stilled.

  I looked up and met those deep brown eyes, intent. His gaze roamed my face before resting on my lips. I thought he might bend down and kiss me. Just to see what I tasted like. But his brow furrowed and wariness crossed his features.

  He stepped back. “I think you’re okay now.”

  I breathed out as cold washed over me, replacing his warmth. I blinked into his withdrawal, feeling the pain crawl back into my arm. The light from the window made me squint as my brain floated back into control.

  “Oy,” I said as I took a deep breath. “Okay.” Still dazed, I turned to go.

  “Olivia?”

  “Yeah?”

  He flung his jacket across one of the visitor chairs before rolling up his sleeves past his muscular forearms. “I assume you took the bus this morning…”

  I blinked, willing my brain to shake off the desire turning my thoughts to molasses. “Yes?”

  “I have a car service. Use it or take a cab. There is no need for you to be taking the filthy bus.”

  “Sure.” I didn’t bother arguing that cabs were as filthy as any bus. Billionaires didn’t really understand the lives of the average city-dweller. “Is that all, sir?”

  My hand was starting to throb now that I didn’t have the distraction of Hunter beating down on me. It was good. Pain helped the brain focus.

  “I like the new look. It suits you.”

  He didn’t bother looking up to deliver the compliment, but it was a compliment all the same. I beamed, thankful I hadn’t gotten the wrong thing. “Thank you.”

  “Bring me another cup of coffee in a few minutes.”

  My beam turned into a frown. My tone hinted at the expression as I said, “Anything else, sir?”

  “No, you can go.”

  My frown deepened. “A thank you wouldn’t kill you,” I muttered under my breath as I walked back out to my desk. Once there, I said to Brenda, “Do we have anything for burns? I spilled coffee.”

  “There’s a medicine cabinet in the kitchen. Make some coffee while you’re there.”

  “Does no one know the power of thank you in this place?” I trudged off to the kitchen.

  The next couple of days passed by in a blur. I had my nose in spreadsheets, looking over Hunter’s schedules so I knew what was going on, and learning the ropes. I had to learn more about the company, the product, the people who came to see him often—lots of things to get familiar with. Brenda was super helpful and patient, and Hunter ignored me most of the time, just like he did her, so things were starting to be like a normal, highly stressful, but well-paying job. I was actually liking it.

  I only had the month, though. Hunter had made that clear. At the end of the month, regardless of if I liked this setup, my time would run out. I’d either need to dive into the naughty pool to keep the job I liked, or step away from the ledge and try to find something else. Only time would tell.

  When Saturday rolled around, I was standing in front of my closet biting my lip in indecision. I’d worn three black skirts in a row, with conservative, airy blouses. I’d really love to wear some jeans, and thought really hard about wearing pants, but one was forbidden and the others were also black.

  “No more black,” I murmured at my closet.

  I pushed aside yet another black skirt, wondering if I’d been thinking of death when I was shopping, and walked my fingers over pink fabric. Then white. And finally hovered on red. Easily the shortest skirt, it hugged my butt and thighs just right. I had a tightfitting, cleavage-showing white shirt to go with it. The saleslady had raved about how fabulous I looked in the outfit. She was just gaga over it.

  I glanced at the pink skirt, something a bit longer and not so…red as the other selection. But that brazen fabric kept drawing my eye. And it was Saturday—Brenda wouldn’t be there… I could totally get away with something a bit wilder. Plus, since Hunter barely glanced up at me anymore, and I’d probably just be at my desk on the computer the whole day, no one would really see…

  With an evil smile, I took the skirt down and then the shirt. I tossed them on my bed and opened my underwear drawer. The black lacy bra and panty set nearly jumped into my hand, since black and red so obviously went together, but I grabbed the white set instead. I was breaking from the norm in dress, so why not in what I would usually put together, too?

  Then, because I absolutely couldn’t help myself, I pulled out the white garter.

  “I cannot believe I am doing this!” It felt like Halloween.

&nbs
p; I put the garter on first before realizing I needed the panties. I was definitely a novice at this. The stockings were a pain, especially with my nails, but I got them hooked in and all set. I stepped into the skirt, and finally put on my shirt. After I was set, I stepped in front of the full-length mirror.

  My stomach squirmed in unease as I looked over my curves, on display for the world to see. My breasts and hips waved hello. Even my legs drew notice, the gloss of the stockings—or were they nylons?—showing their shape.

  I blew out a breath as I turned to survey the back. A black line crawled up the center of each leg until it ducked under my skirt.

  Frowning, I ran my finger along it. Sewn into the tights, it was a style that should’ve probably been worn with another piece of black in the attire. I wore red and white. So…no longer matching.

  I thought about the effort to change into another pair of tights. Nope. Not going to happen. Way too much work. I’d just make sure to keep my front to Hunter while speaking, and walk away quickly. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  I faced front again and smoothed my hands over the skirt.

  I felt completely exposed. Completely. I should take this off and wear the pants…

  I stopped myself from acting. I was doing this. I was going to wear this in public, and then hide in the office before wearing it in public again on the way home. People would look, and I knew that, but I was going to hold my head high, and not be so self-conscious about showing the outline of my body. After all, this was short and tight for me, but girls my age wore things that showed their butt cheeks. I was still in the respectable zone. Mostly.

  Sticking to my guns, I grabbed some heels—black, both because they matched that weird seam, and also because that was all I had—and headed to the bathroom. After hair and makeup, I walked out the front door with a light coat, belatedly realizing I was supposed to call that danged car service Brenda kept on at me about. It was too late now, though, and there wasn’t a cab in sight.

  The bus it was.

  I got to the office amid a few stares and only one catcall. It was actually way less than I anticipated, which meant this outfit was nowhere near the scandal I had expected. The guard barely glanced up as I stalked through, and no one was there to witness me in the elevator.