Sweet Possession

by J. Daniels

  The elevator stops a few floors down and even though I’m already leaning against the wall and giving plenty of room to whoever is about to enter, I move closer to the corner anyway. As the doors slide open, I’m too busy admiring my ring to register who steps on. But I sense it. I feel the tightness forming in my gut and slowly lift my eyes and lock on to the reasoning behind it.

  “Well, isn’t this a sweet surprise.”

  “Fuck,” I utter under my breath through gritted teeth, keeping my eyes down and making sure I’m still completely covered. The last thing I need is this grade-A asshole to get a look at what’s underneath my trench coat. Out of my peripheral vision, I see him move to the opposite side of the elevator, keeping his full attention on me.

  “Is it raining outside?” he asks, and even though I’m not looking at him, I can tell he’s wearing that eerie smile that makes my skin crawl. “Because when I arrived here, it was sunny and close to seventy-five degrees out. You must be burning up in that, baby.”

  Baby. God, this creeper makes me nauseous.

  When I don’t acknowledge him, he moves closer to me and I instinctively back further into the corner. “Are you hot, Dylan? ‘Cause you look hot to me. Need a hand slipping that off?”

  At that absurd question, I turn my head and glare at him. “If you step any closer to me, I’ll be the only one leaving this elevator with a set of balls.” He either doesn’t have a pair, or he doesn’t value them, because my threat doesn’t stop him from moving quickly and bracing himself with a hand on either side of my face. His body is pressed against mine and if this intrusion isn’t enough to make me sick, his erection digging into my stomach pushes me over the edge. I clench my teeth and flatten myself further against the wall. “Back the fuck up.”

  “And if I don’t? Removing my balls would require touching them, so by all means.” He lifts a finger, trailing it down the side of my face to my neck. “Did you like my flower?”

  My breathing was already labored, but now I’m borderline-hyperventilating. That fucking flower. I stare up into his eyes, my fists shaking at my sides.

  “I was planning on stopping by your shop this week. My father has been craving your tarts and I’ve been craving something, as well. Think you could fill both our orders?”

  “Stay the fuck away from my shop,” I hiss as my nails cut into the skin of my palms.

  “Or what?” he asks, leaning closer and bracing himself on the wall next to my head. “Nothing stands in the way of what I want, Dylan. Not even your boyfriend.”

  “What is it? What is your weird-ass obsession with me? I don’t want you. I never will. So get the fuck over yourself and find someone else to creep the hell out.”

  I push against him but he pushes back harder, flattening me against the wall. He tilts his head down, brushing his nose against my forehead. “You want to know what it is about you?”

  “I want you to get the fuck off me.”

  “Then do something about it,” he snarls in my face.

  I could slap this asshole, but I’m suddenly flooded with the urge to do something that’ll hurt a hell of a lot worse. Grabbing his shoulders, his eyes enlarge and he drops his finger from my neck as I fist his dress shirt and swiftly bring my knee up, striking him right where I need to with enough force to bring him to his knees.

  “Awhhhh, fuckkkkk.” He’s on his side, rolling in a fetal position with his hands clutching the balls I just crushed.

  The elevator comes to a stop at that exact moment, allowing me to step over him and move toward the opening doors. When I hear laughter, I look back at him over my shoulder, seeing his face contorted into a mix of agony and mischief.

  “That,” he says through a faint voice before blowing out forcefully through pursed lips. “Fuck, yes. That’s what it is.” He laughs again, but it’s snuffed out by more groans as he clutches his groin.

  I slam my hand on the elevator door, holding it open. “Stay the fuck away from my shop. And if I were you, I’d get the hell out of Chicago before Reese, my fiancé, does a lot worse than what I just did.” I glance down at his crotch. “Good luck having kids, douchebag.”

  I step out of the elevator, hearing the doors ding close behind me. Hmm. Kneeing assholes in the balls is just as satisfying as slapping them across the face. Maybe a bit more.

  Thanks a lot, Bryce. You’ve just given me a new favorite go-to move.

  I’m putting every safety feature of my new car to the test as I drive back to my bakery. I’m fuming, more mad than I can remember ever being as I weave in and out of traffic and keep the pedal pressed against the floorboard. Thank God this car has those sensors that alert you when you’re too close to a vehicle in front of you, because I’m definitely not paying attention to prevent that on my own. My mind is elsewhere, the vision of Bryce cornering me in the elevator and the feel of his finger against my neck overwhelming my thoughts. I’ve never felt invaded like that before. Not even when Justin put his hands on me. And his hands left bruises. But this? How Bryce touched me? This was different.

  I kept my cool for the most part in the moment, but now I’m feeling the aftershock of the encounter. My nerves are completely shot, my chest is so tight I’m finding it difficult to take in a deep breath, and the urge to consume the one thing I’ve been told to avoid until Saturday is stronger than ever. I know I have to tell Reese about this, and that’s making my anxiety level rocket off the charts. It’s one thing if Bryce verbally creeps me out; that I can handle. But he put his hands on me. Well, a finger, but still, he touched me. And I’m no longer worried that Reese might do something that could get him into trouble, because I know he’ll be smart about it and he deserves to know what just happened. I’d sure as hell want to know if some bitch laid a finger on Reese. And I’d be pissed if he kept that information from me, so I’m going to tell him.

  After I park my car behind Sam, I storm down the sidewalk and swing the bakery door open, nearly ripping it off the hinges. Joey and Brooke are behind the counter, both of them focusing on me immediately and halting their conversation that, for once, looks pleasant.

  “What’s wrong? You look pissed,” Joey correctly observes. “Did your thank you not get received well?”

  “That’s not why I’m pissed.” Storming into the back, I feel Brooke and Joey on my heels as I grab the glass that’s been sitting in the middle of my worktop. Not even bothering to pick the flower out of it, I chuck the glass and its disturbing contents into the trashcan, the sound of it breaking echoing around me.

  “Jesus. What the hell happened?” Joey asks.

  “Yeah, Dylan. You look ready to murder somebody,” Brooke adds.

  I ignore both of them and make my way up the stairs, knowing Joey will be following me. I swing the door open and step behind my decorative screen, ripping my coat off and throwing it onto the bed.

  “Dylan, what’s going on?” Joey asks from behind the screen, genuine concern in his voice. “You’re kind of starting to freak me out a little.”

  I grab some clothes from my dresser and throw them on the bed. “Reese didn’t leave that flower on Sam the other night. Bryce did.”

  “What? Are you fucking serious?” Joey grunts out.

  “That asshole from the club?” Brooke’s voice fills the room, and I’m momentarily shocked she was concerned enough to follow me up the stairs. But she is Juls’ sister, after all, and Juls would definitely follow me.

  “Yeah, the asshole from the club. He cornered me in the elevator after I thanked Reese for my car. God, I fucking hate that guy.” I button my jeans and grab my shirt just as Joey walks out from behind the screen.

  “What do you mean he cornered you? What happened?” Joey asks.

  I clench my eyes shut at the memory of it. “He pushed up against me.” I open them, turning my head and seeing Joey’s alarmed expression. “Right in my face, Joey. I kneed him in the balls, but I should’ve done worse than that. He put his fucking finger on my neck.” I shiver, reaching up and
rubbing my skin raw with my hand. “Jesus, I’m so grossed out right now.”

  “He touched you? Oh, fuck that. I don’t care what you say, cupcake. I’m telling Reese about this. And if I ever see that motherfucker again, I’ll risk jail time.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” Brooke says, stepping up beside Joey. She flips her dark hair off her shoulder before crossing her arms over her chest. “He seems worthy of a good beat-down. One I’d personally like to deliver.”

  Reaching for my coat, I grab my phone from the pocket. “You won’t have to tell Reese. I already decided he needs to know about this. I was just waiting until I wasn’t putting myself and others in danger to tell him. He’d flip out if he knew I was talking on the phone while driving.” I sit on the edge of my bed, dialing Reese’s office number and placing the phone to my ear. I look up and notice that neither one of my employees have moved from their spot. “Would one of you like to go downstairs in case someone comes in to buy something? We can’t all be up here.” Joey turns to Brooke who gives him a look like she shouldn’t be the one leaving. “Or both of you could go. I don’t really need an audience.”

  Joey snaps his head in my direction, his eyes narrowing on mine. “I take offense to that, but fine.” He grabs Brooke’s arm. “Come on. I’ll show you what to do when someone comes in with a special request. Dylan has a specific way of doing things.”

  Just as my loft door closes, the phone picks up.

  “Reese Carroll’s office. Dave speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Hi, Dave. It’s Dylan. Can I speak to Reese, please?”

  “Absolutely. He just went to Mr. Thomas’ office, so I’ll transfer you to his line. Hold on one second.”

  Speaking of Mr. Thomas’, Juls will definitely be filled in on what I just went through as soon as I hang up from this phone call.

  “Ian Thomas.”

  “Hey, Ian. It’s Dylan. Is Reese with you?”

  “Yeah, he just walked in. Hold on.” I hear shuffling through the phone followed by a muffled “it’s your girl.”

  The tenseness that has set into my shoulders seems to release a bit at the sound of my title. I love being ‘his girl’, and that’s always how Ian labels me. Even during mine and Reese’s casual bullshit phase.

  “Love. Are you missing me already?”

  I smile, my first smile in twenty minutes. “Always. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

  After several seconds, he asks, “Are you going to tell me or am I supposed to be guessing?”

  I sigh heavily, mentally preparing myself for the reaction that will surely ruin the amazing, post-orgasmic mood he’s floating around with. Mine sure as hell has been ruined. “No. But before I tell you this, I’d like to start off by saying I think I handled this very well and am quite proud of myself.”

  “Is this wedding shit? Because you know I back you up one hundred percent. Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

  I let out a small laugh. “No, it isn’t wedding shit. I’d actually prefer a discussion with both our mothers’ over the one I just had with Bryce.”

  I don’t need to be in Ian’s office right now to know Reese’s free hand is in his hair. “What do you mean the discussion you just had with Bryce? You saw him?”

  I hear Ian’s voice in the background, saying something I can’t make out before I respond. “He got on the elevator with me when I was leaving your building.”

  His breathing fills my ear. “Did he? And what did you two discuss?”

  I can sense the irritation in his voice and suddenly feel like it’s being directed toward me. “What’s with the attitude? I didn’t ask him to get on the elevator with me.”

  “No, but you picked out that fucking outfit you had on.”

  I’m on my feet, rage coursing through my body as I begin pacing alongside my bed. “Are you serious right now? I don’t remember you complaining about my wardrobe when you had your dick in me. And how the hell was I supposed to know he was in your building? I thought Ian closed the account with him.”

  “He did. Don’t fucking yell at me because you, once again, decided to wear something that could draw you undesirable attention. You could’ve stripped all your clothes off once you got in my office, or waited until I fucking got home to pull that stunt.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not my style.”

  “No shit. What did he say to you?”

  My free hand fists at my side as I burn a hole into my carpet with the strides I’m taking. “You know what, Reese? Don’t worry about it. I don’t need you to fight my battles for me. I fucking handled it like I said I would.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “No. And if you want to yell at somebody, yell at yourself. You’re the one who decided to work with that asshole after I told you months ago he creeped me out. Thanks a lot for thinking of me.”

  “Dylan!”

  I hang up my phone before tossing it onto the bed. What in the actual fuck? I actually do the right thing here and before I can even tell him what happened, he’s blaming me for it? How is this in any way my fault? I’m not the one who agreed to work with that prick. I wouldn’t care how important this account was or how much money was involved. I would never work with someone who made my fiancé uncomfortable. If anyone has the right to be angry in this situation, it’s me. Reese got paid, laid, and has the nerve to take this out on me?

  No. Fuck that.

  My phone rings on my bed but I ignore it, making my way downstairs. I have no desire to talk to him right now or anytime soon, for that matter. And I’m in desperate need of a cupcake. Nothing else will do right now.

  I march through my kitchen with purpose, through the doorway and behind the counter. Brooke and Joey are sitting at my consultation table as I slide the panel on the display case open and reach for one of my chocolate mousse cupcakes with a ganache-filled center.

  “What are you doing?” Joey asks, the sound of the chair scraping on the floor following his voice. “Dylan, no sweets.”

  I straighten up and leer at him. “If you come between me and this cupcake right now, I will end you.” Removing the wrapper as quickly as I can, I shove the whole thing into my mouth as Joey rounds the counter, disapproval on his face. “I mhey have anonther,” I say through a mouthful, closing my eyes and moaning at the chocolaty goodness. Fuck yes, cupcakes.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asks, snatching the wrapper from my hand and tossing it into the trashcan. “Did you tell Reese?” I reach once again for the display case, but my hand is batted away by Joey before he blocks me with his massive frame. “No more until you talk to me. What happened?”

  I open my mouth to give him the rundown of my phone call when the shop phone decides to ring at that exact moment. There’s no doubt in my mind it’s Reese, and I have no intention of answering. Leaning against the counter, I stare at the phone on the wall as Joey moves toward it.

  “It’s Reese,” I say with a clipped voice after swallowing my mouthful.

  Joey ignores me and grabs the phone, putting it up to his ear. He frowns at me before saying, “Dylan’s Sweet Tooth.” I tap my fingers against my arm, seeing his expression change to indicate I was correct in my assumption. “I’m not sure this is the best time to talk to her. She just inhaled a cupcake and is staring at me like she’s going to eat me next.”

  I roll my eyes as Brooke comes to stand next to me. “What’s going on?” she asks softly, her eyes flicking between Joey and myself.

  “Boys are idiots. If I were you, I’d go lesbian.”

  She shrugs slightly. “I’ve dabbled. It’s not really my thing. If there isn’t at least one dick involved, I can’t get into it.”

  I slide closer to her, my interest in Brooke’s sex life suddenly blanketing all my Reese concerns at the moment. “At least one dick? Have you done multiple?”

  “Once. But they were bi and seemed to like dick more than me. I felt like a third wheel.”

  “Someone actually liked dick more t
han you? I’m shocked,” I reply before laughing under my breath and seeing her eyes light up with mischief. Joey’s elevated voice grabs both of our attention.

  “Listen here. I don’t have to do anything. Dylan clearly doesn’t want to talk to you right now and as her best friend, I back her up one hundred percent. Hoes before bros.” He leans his shoulder against the wall, bringing his free hand up to his hip. “And another thing, I think it’s really shitty that you and Ian agreed to work with that asshole. He’s clearly psychotic, given the fact he put his hands on Dylan when he knows you… what?” Joey looks over in my direction, his agitated expression softening. “Uh, she didn’t tell you that? Well, yeah, he… hello?” He brings the phone away from his ear briefly before returning it. “Helloooo?” Hanging it up, he spins and tilts his head to the side as he strokes his chin. “Funny thing. Reese apparently didn’t know about the elevator incident. Care to explain that to me before he comes barreling through the shop door and hauls you out of here over his shoulder?”

  I take the elastic band off my wrist and secure my hair into a pony. “I was going to tell him until he opened his stupid mouth and blamed me for drawing undesirable attention with my outfit. Like wearing snow gear would’ve prevented that jerk-off from touching me. And for Christ’s sake, I had a coat on. It’s not like I was strutting around half-naked.” I run my hands down my face before stepping up to Joey and poking a finger at his chest. “I’m eating another cupcake. You can either join me or step into the back, but it’s happening.”

  “Well I’m sure as hell going to eat one,” Brooke says behind me. “I’ve been practically eye-fucking them all morning.”

  Joey’s eyes dart over my shoulder, dropping to the display case. He sighs before nodding sharply. “Right. This situation definitely calls for massive sugar consumption.” He drops his eyes down to look at me. “But fair warning, I will be pushing you during our run tomorrow to make up for this moment of weakness. And no faking shin splints like today. I was so onto you.”