by Claire Adams
What the hell was that? Once more, I had trouble looking him in the eye. This time for completely different reasons.
It felt like an eternity had passed by the time he finally said, “I’ll help you with your paper. Every night after dinner we will work on it together. Okay?”
When I met his bright blue eyes again, he was flashing me a genuine smile and my heartbeat picked up. How embarrassing. Snap out of it, woman! Agreeing to help me with homework was just one of many tricks in his big game plan of getting my clothes off, just like organizing a custom dinner with my favorite dishes. He wasn’t interested in my food choices or my paper or my world views or my economics professor. I would be an idiot to let myself believe otherwise. He had made no attempt to hide his motives behind this entire set-up, and if I let myself get confused into thinking he actually cared about me, only I would be to blame when I got hurt in the end. Staying grounded through these six months seemed like a harder task right now than it ever had before, but I had to be strong and take this for what it was to him: a game.
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to betray my train of thought.
“And one of these days,” he added. “I would be happy to come to your apartment for some pizza and Bud Light. We can do the Netflix thing as well if it makes you feel normal.”
“All right.”
---
When I finally got home that night, however, I started panicking. Zayden Sinclair, in my house? The living room floor was covered in magazines, and Stacey and Nick would scrutinize him to no end, and our T.V. was not even a flat screen. The couch was fifty-years-old, a gift from Nick’s now deceased grandmother. Maybe I could get him to change his mind…
As I covered myself with blankets, my thoughts drifted away from the apartment to that moment during dinner when his thumb was rubbing against mine. Laden with desire, I softly rubbed my fingers against each other. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I could not let him have this kind of an effect on me. This was exactly what he was trying to accomplish, and I knew better than to let him have what he wanted. With the firm decision to actively block any compromising thoughts of him, I closed my eyes.
That didn’t stop me from dreaming compromising dreams all night, though.
CHAPTER 6
ZAYDEN
I was surprised by Aria’s progress on her paper so far. Over the past few years running the company, I had grown cynical of women, and the thought of them as intellectual beings had not crossed my mind since my MBA days. It probably had to do with not working with many smart ones. But man, this girl was bright. Had I not been dallying with her with the intention of getting into her pants, I might even have offered her a long-term analyst position at the bank. She would crawl up the ranks quickly with her out-of-the-box thinking and passionate articulations of ideas on the impact of individual economic status on large-scale growth of a national economy. Unfortunately, some other institution would be lucky to have her as an asset, since I had already decided on utilizing a whole different set of her talents; hopefully she had those talents, even though she was a virgin. Oh, who was I kidding, I was going to enjoy every minute of it even if she just lay there like a rock. Getting her to lay down next to me was going to be the hardest part.
I was doing everything I could: researching her favorite cuisines, offering to hang out in her comfort-zone, even helping her with homework. But it wasn’t enough. I had to do more. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration and logged onto the MBA homepage of my alma mater.
If I submitted her abstract for publication in their Economist Tribune, they would jump to accept it purely based on my recommendation. I could gladly throw some money at them if that helped, but I did more than enough to uphold the university’s financial standing. There was no way they would decline something that came from me. I had to be careful, though, in letting her know just how much influence I had on their decision. She needed to know that it would not have happened without me, but her pride would suffer if she didn’t feel she merited the publication. In order to get her running into my arms, I had to find the perfect balance between the two.
I had begun working on the submission when she walked in.
“It’s almost six, did you want me here tonight?”
“Of course, every night. Didn’t we go over this?” I looked up at her.
She frowned. “You just look busy is all, I wasn’t sure-”
“Seriously, every night.”
“Did you get a chance to go through my paper yet?”
“Yes.” I chose my words very carefully. “It’s promising, but certainly needs more work and some solid data.”
She bought my bluff and her face fell. All the better for when she would finally learn about the publication. I felt a rush of excitement. If that didn’t do it, I didn’t know what would.
“I knew it,” she said in a disappointed voice. “I am sorry for putting you through reading that crap. You don’t have to help me with it if it’s beyond hope. I don’t want to waste your time on something that sucks.”
“If you only knew how much time I waste on things that sucked,” I winked.
She gasped. “That’s awful. And 23.”
“Huh?” 23 what? What was she talking about?
“Since the beginning of our contract, you have objectified or insulted women a total of 23 times.”
“You’ve been counting?” I widened my eyes.
“Not consciously until about 17,” she shrugged helplessly.
“Does it really bother you that much?”
“Men are all a bunch of pigs who cannot think without their dicks for more than five seconds in a row,” she said with so much feisty passion; she was turning me on. “How did that feel?”
“Like the truth,” I smiled.
She pursed her lips. “You are beyond hope.”
“Your paper doesn’t suck,” I replied without thinking.
“But you just said-”
“I said it could use some work, which is what we are going to do. Don’t worry.”
“Can we do it without being sexist?” She bit her lips, as though she didn’t really mean to say that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you were sexist.”
“You straight up called me a sexist. That’s not implying anything,” I frowned. I really wasn’t. I just had been searching for a woman who could match my intelligence, and I had yet to meet one in the financial industry. I still hired plenty of women and they all got equal pay. Aria was intriguing though.
She mumbled something inaudible.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” she flashed me the brightest smile she could muster. “Would you like some coffee?”
“You keep offering to make me coffee, what’s your game?” I eyed her suspiciously.
She looked furious. “My ‘game’, is giving you some caffeine for energy while you seem to be working hard on whatever big important thing you’re working on. It’s called being nice; some people do it sometimes without an alternative agenda in mind.”
Oh. Shit. I must have hit the wrong button.
“I did not mean to offend you,” I said after a few moments. “I’ll take that cup of coffee.”
She walked out without saying a word, and I felt a strange emotion that I couldn’t quite identify. Remorse? That couldn’t be true, why would I feel guilty about questioning her motives? Everyone had ulterior motives. I was doing so many nice things for Aria, and not a single one of them without the intention of fucking her. Am I so horrible to assume she was attempting to do the same for some unspecified intentions?
Yes, yes I was. It was just coffee. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, Aria Roberts had unintentionally managed to make me question my cynicism. I was starting to believe that this girl was simply a terrible influence. Another, much smaller part of me was intrigued by the very possibility that I could question my outlook on life. That thing she had said about objectifying women, for instance. It stuck with me. I wasn’t deluded en
ough to think myself innocent of such behavior, but twenty-three times in just a few days’ worth of conversation with a single person? That felt like a little too much, even for me. I would have to be very conscious of that around her from now on, especially if I was going to seduce her. It was essential that she believed that it was a good idea.
---
By the time she returned, I had already heard back from the Economics Journal.
“I have good news,” I said as soon as she walked in.
“I’m out of the contract and now you’re just going to loan me the money out of the goodness of your heart?” she asked with a straight face.
Technically she didn’t have to do anything significant as a part of the deal, so I was surprised by her attitude. I felt a surge of rage begin to bubble up when I made the mistake of catching her eyes. They were shining and there was a slight hint of a dimple on her soft cheeks. She was joking.
“We both know that I don’t have that good of a heart,” I said.
“I think you have a better heart than you think you do,” she shrugged.
Hearing those words made me feel way better than it should have. She thought I was a good person? That wasn’t something I was used to. The best I got from people, as far as positive reactions go, was fearful reverence. People respected what I had done with the company, they were impressed by how successful I had managed to become at a relatively young age. Never, or at least not in a very long time, had somebody actually appreciated my character. Not even me, I realized. After my dad passed away, all my morals began to intertwine together into a deeply gray area, where right or wrong only differed in the dollar value it brought to the company. Or in my personal life, on how easily and frequently it got new women to my bedroom. My dad was the person who always kept me on my toes and insisted on a regular morality check. After he passed on, it almost didn’t seem to mean anything anymore. Who should I have to be a good person for since he was no longer there? Mom wasn’t anything close to the epitome of any virtue; more importantly, she couldn’t care less what kind of a person I was turning into, as long as I showered her with gifts and nice fat checks.
What Aria had just said really startled me, because the truth of the matter was that my heart had nothing to do with anything I was doing for her; a whole another organ was responsible for my actions. But she knew that. And I had never made any attempts to conceal my true intentions. That’s what surprised me the most: she thought I was a decent person, despite my intentions! Maybe she was just sucking up to me, maybe she just needed something, maybe she was just playing a game. The cynical part of me had all these suspicions, but somehow they didn’t seem to matter in the face of the knowledge that there was at least one person in the planet that didn’t think I was a total and complete douchebag. And that meant a whole lot more to me than it should have. Which made me wonder if what I was supposed to tell her next was a good idea.
“You are getting published,” I said as though I was merely complementing her hair.
She looked confused for a few seconds, and then looked behind her as if to check if I was talking to someone else. Then she looked at me, followed by my computer and I watched in satisfaction as her eyes widened in realization and her whole face turned as bright as the daylight. Her gasp was loud enough to echo throughout the whole office building, and she probably realized that and covered her mouth.
“How?” It came out as a little squeal.
“I sent your abstract to the Economics Journal.”
“The Economics Journal?” She was practically shouting.
“Yep, it’s published at my alma mater.”
“Of course!” she exclaimed, realizing where I had gone to school. “But, but, would they just like-“
“Not usually,” I said slowly. “But they review anything that comes from me directly and they were blown away by your ideas. And when I say blown away, those were the words used by the editor in his email, which I have forwarded to-”
I cut myself short because she lunged on to me and gave me a very tight hug. I could hear her sniff as she grabbed my body with her tiny little hands. I tried to control myself, but just feeling her smooth skin against my hands, her perfectly perky breasts against my torso, and her soft skirt rub against my crotch was enough to make me forget what the conversation was about, what was happening right now, or even what day of the week it was. All I knew was I wanted to rip her dress up right there and shove my hands into her panties, shove my fingers deep inside her as I kissed her breasts until they were sore. Then I would throw her on the couch and fuck her like she had no idea was possible, deep and fast and I would come inside her sweet-
She jerked apart from me, probably able to feel my excitement through her skirt.
“Okay, that’s all for hugs, I guess,” she said, her voice almost shivering. Wow, was she…
I studied her face; it had turned a very deep shade of red. Her right arm was tugging nervously at the hem of her skirt and she was looking squarely on to the ground. She wanted it too! If there was anything I knew about women, it was the look of desire on their faces, and right now, Aria’s face was nothing if not complete and utter longing. Should I say something? Was now my only chance?
If a simple hug could cause her to react this way, wait until I kissed her; she would melt. I felt a slight disappointment at the thought of the game getting easier, but knowing Aria as much as I had gotten to know her, just because she wanted it didn’t mean she would just give it up. The odds that she had been wanting it all along were always very high; what made her stand out from all the other women was that she resisted, not that she didn’t feel. I knew she felt it, every woman did. Somehow she had managed to convince me through her tough exterior that she didn’t for a little while, I realized, feeling idiotic for ever entertaining doubts. This was definitely going to be much easier than I had been anticipating, but the fact that she just jerked away meant that it would still be a challenge. I simply had to teach her to succumb to her desires. I would show her the things she was capable of feeling and teach her to accept the greatest pleasures of life. I couldn’t wait. For now, however, I had to play it cool.
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, feigning a look of genuine remorse. “But it tends to do that. I can’t really control it.”
She tried speaking a few times but her lips were visibly trembling. She took a deep breath and tried to conceal it with a cough. Finally she said, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
Of course she didn’t, I internally rolled my eyes. She would have felt my rock hard cock if she were wearing a space suit.
“Oh, never mind then,” I played along. She knew. I knew. What was the fucking point of this?
“Thank you so much!” She exclaimed, trying to change her expression to that of delight.
For what? For my hard on? It took me almost an entire minute to realize what she was talking about. I had completely forgotten the conversation that led up to that moment.
“Oh, my pleasure entirely.” I gave her a crooked smile. It would be my pleasure soon enough. I could not wait much longer. More hugs like that and I would forget all about the contract and the challenge and seduce her right away. “And you don’t really have to thank me, it was your hard work and intelligence that got them to accept the paper. I was merely the middle-man.”
“A middle-man that pays to run that whole department,” she said with almost a hint of envy. “Let’s be honest, if the email had not come from you, they would never ever give an undergrad the time of the day and my abstract would go straight to their virtual bin.”
“Yes,” I had to say. There could be no confusion about the fact that this would have been impossible without my help. But I also thought it important to add, “But they could read it and turn it down with ease if they didn’t like what they saw.”
“Seriously, Zayden.” I liked the way she said my name. Zay-den. It sounded intoxicating. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me
just yet. That was simply the abstract. You have a whole paper to write,” I reminded her. “We have a paper to write.”
I killed it with the “we.” I could see the joy in her face. “You’re a really good friend,” she said.
Friend? Did she think of me as someone she could call a friend? That was a weird sensation, hearing her call me a friend; and not necessarily in a bad way. Of course, I wanted to be more than that physically, but I wondered if it was worth keeping her around as a friend after I got what I wanted? I didn’t really have any friends aside from Ned, and if I was going to allow a girl in my life in any capacity, that word seemed to nicely describe it. Her intelligence was obvious, and maybe if we could remain friends, it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to have her work for me. I knew I could gain a lot from her talents, and she could make more money than she would anywhere else. I definitely needed to consider this in more depth: it all depended on how she would react if – when – we eventually have sex. There was a good chance that she would hate me forever for taking her virginity and not wanting anything more. Would it, though? She seemed like a very rational and together girl. I wasn’t entirely sure she would want to get emotionally involved with me if she knew that the alternative would grant her the career of her dreams. Her ambitions almost reminded me of myself in my college years. In those days I would never have let anything stop me from my aspirations, and I suspected that Aria Roberts wasn’t the kind to either.
“If you really think so,” I said smiling at her. “Then do me a favor.”
“Anything!” she exclaimed immediately and hurriedly added, “Anything other than, you know.”
I laughed. “That wasn’t what I was going to ask. Have I asked that of you since our contract started?”
