Her Old-Fashioned Boss

by Laylah Roberts

  “Now, there are a few firm rules. No lying. I expect respect and communication and I will give you the same. And no going to the club without my express permission. Follow those and I’m sure we’ll get on just fine.”

  Knowing she’d been dismissed, Ava stood, head reeling and left his office.

  What had she gotten herself into?

  *****

  With a curse, Ava gave up trying to work and stood with a huff of annoyance. Once again, the afternoon sun was shining directly onto her desk. She didn’t know how Roarke’s old personal assistant had managed to work with the sun shining right in her eyes, but Ava knew she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  And she refused to pull the curtains and sit in the dark. That was just stupid.

  No, she was going to have to move the desk.

  Standing up, she stared at the large oak desk in frustration. The thing was huge. But she had no other choice. She’d put up with the discomfit of sunlight burning her retinas for two weeks now and she refused to make do any longer.

  “Right.” Gathering up her energy, Ava moved to one end and tried to lift it.

  Nothing.

  “Ugh,” she groaned. “Stupid desk, shift, damn you.” Muscles shaking with strain, she managed to shift it an inch.

  “I have got to go to a gym,” she muttered breathlessly. Deciding this wasn’t working unless she planned to do this for the rest of the afternoon, she stood and, gathering back her breath, moved around the corner of the desk and started pushing.

  “Ugh, move, dammit.”

  “What on earth are you doing?” a deep voice asked. With a soft squeal—she really wished Roarke would stop sneaking up on her—Ava turned. Placing her hands on her hips, she stared at him.

  “What does it look like?” she snapped, feeling guilty when he simply raised a brow at her caustic statement.

  “Sorry,” she said sincerely. “But the sun keeps shining right in my eyes so I was trying to move this mammoth of a desk. I tried lifting it but it wouldn’t budge, so I thought I would push it.” She frowned at the desk, like it was purposely trying to thwart her.

  Roarke sighed, a noise filled with disbelief. “And you seriously thought you could move it by yourself? Why didn’t you ask me? I would have moved it for you the first day you started.”

  Ava dropped her gaze to her feet, feeling foolish. “I didn’t want to bother you,” she muttered, feeling her cheeks redden.

  Suddenly a pair of Italian leather shoes filled her vision. A warm finger situated itself under her chin and Roarke raised her face up so she had to look at him.

  “You could never be a bother. I take care of my own.”

  Breathless at the declaration even as she told herself that he didn’t mean it that way, Ava simply stood for a moment, staring at him.

  Roarke smiled. “Where do you want it?” he asked.

  On the desk, over the kitchen, in the bath, anywhere you want to take me.

  Get a grip, woman.

  “Umm, about a foot forward, I thought.”

  Without a word, Roarke moved to one end of the desk and lifted it. Ava shook herself and moved to the other end.

  “Here, I’ll help,” she offered.

  Roarke just stared at her, his gaze moving from her face to her hands and back again. Ava fought the urge to step back and apologize. Why should she? She wasn’t doing anything wrong.

  “Ava,” he told her in that stomach-stirring voice he had. “Stand back. I do not want your help.”

  Hurt stabbed her stomach and she took a step back. Roarke moved quickly to her and clasped her cheeks with his hands, heating her skin. “Not like that. I simply don’t want you hurting yourself, understand?”

  “It’s just a desk.”

  “And I am perfectly capable of moving it by myself. Or are you saying I’m not strong enough, not manly enough.” He puffed out his chest and threw his shoulders back making her giggle.

  Before she knew what was happening, she’d taken four steps back. Roarke moved the desk without any real show of strain.

  “There, done. Tell me if you don’t like where it is now and I’ll move it again. But,” his gaze pinned her with clear warning, “do not move it again by yourself.”

  “I’m capable of doing things myself, Roarke,” she challenged him, finally finding her voice. That dominant tone of his seemed to reduce her to a mass of fluttering nerves every time.

  “Of course you are,” he said, surprising her. “But why should you when I’m here and willing to do it for you.” With that he turned and walked into his study.

  Ava gaped after him. Internally, she argued with herself. Part of her felt warm and safe at the way he took charge and cared for her. Yet, she shouldn’t let him take control, should she? She should be independent and strong and...Her stomach clenched in anxiety. If she let him take too much control did that make her weak? Shouldn’t she stand up to him more?

  Yes, she should. But she simply couldn’t. Because, besides her friends, no one had ever tried to take care of her except for Roarke and Sam.

  “Hey, sweet.” Ava turned her head to see Sam stepping through the door. The smile on his face faded a little as he caught sight of her. Immediately, he strode over to her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, ahh, nothing. It’s just, well...” she gazed over at the closed door separating her office from Roarke’s.

  “Oh.” Sam looked over at Roarke’s office door before taking her hand in his and guiding her over to a chair. Pressing on her shoulders, he waited until she’d sat down. Pulling a seat around so he was facing her, he tilted her chin up with one hand.

  “Roarke being a bit high-handed?” he asked.

  “Ahh, I guess.” She told him about the desk.

  Sam sat back with a thoughtful look. “And how does that make you feel?”

  She avoided his gaze, looking over his shoulder. “What do you mean? It’s just a desk.”

  “But it’s not, is it? He won’t let you catch public transport, he insisted on you resting your feet the other day, he won’t let you shift heavy furniture, a lot of women would be furious over any one of those incidents, and they’d probably have quit after all of them combined. So why haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

  “Honey, I don’t think there is anything wrong with you at all. In fact, if anyone understands how you’re feeling it’s me. Roarke’s an old-fashioned guy in some ways. He doesn’t let people close to him easily, but when he does he can be fiercely protective, almost to the point of smothering. There have been times when I’ve seriously considered kicking his ass because of his rules. In the beginning of our relationship, he seemed to be under the misconception that I was made of glass. Do you know he actually told me that I wasn’t to drive anywhere alone and that I had to carry an alarm, pepper spray and take self-defense classes. Now, I’m all for personal safety, but hell, I grew up scrawny, believe me, I know how to fight.”

  “So what did you do?” she asked.

  “Well, I know Roarke has his reasons for being the way he is. Besides being a naturally dominant, take-charge guy, he has a real need to take care of those around him and much of what he does or says is out of fear.”

  “Fear?” she asked, surprised. He seemed like a pretty fearless guy to her.

  Sam nodded. “Of losing someone close. Roarke lost his younger brother years ago and he’s always blamed himself, even though it was a drunk driver who hit Austin. Still, Roarke beat himself up for it. And it took him a long time to let me close, even longer for him to give me some breathing room. Basically, honey, the more he tries to protect and wrap you in cotton wool, the more he cares about you.”

  “So what did you do? To get him to ease up?” she asked curiously. She couldn’t understand how Roarke didn’t see how very capable Sam was of taking care of himself. He might have been slightly smaller than Roarke, but he had a killer body. She knew he

worked out daily and she bet he was fast and sneaky in a fight.

  “Well, it’s not that Roarke doesn’t know I can look after myself. He’s seen me fight. He would just rather take care of me. He needs to know I’m safe. So I always made sure that I told him where I was going and when I would be back. I was patient, although he pushed me, and I won’t lie, there were a lot of days that I walked around with a sore ass from a punishment for breaking some rule. But gradually, he eased up a bit. It’s not that I don’t want him protecting me, dominating me, believe me, I do. But I need some freedom too. Both of us have ended up compromising.”

  “You’re good together. I hope I can have what you two have one day,” she said wistfully.

  Sam smiled. “You will. Maybe sooner than you think.”

  She pondered that for a moment, but couldn’t see it happening any time soon, after all, when did she even have a chance to meet a guy? She shrugged.

  “Just be patient with the big lug, okay?”

  “Sure. But, it’s a bit different, isn’t it? I mean, I’m just his employee, you’re his partner.”

  Sam clasped her hand in both of his. Tingles enveloped her, racing up her skin. “He cares about you. Both of us do. I don’t want to step over any bounds, but I hope you care about us too.”

  “I haven’t known you that long,” she started and Sam’s face fell, “but yes, I care about the two of you as well.”

  “And I think, there’s probably a part of you that likes it when Roarke takes charge, am I right?” His thumb ran over the underside of her wrist. Damn, who knew that could be an erogenous zone?

  She bit her lip.

  “I’m a submissive, honey, I have been for years. I like giving control over to Roarke, having him take charge. Mostly, we keep it to play and sex, but really it’s a part of who we are. Roarke can’t exactly turn his need to protect and control off and I like to give him what he needs, it fulfills something deep inside me, makes me happy. And I think you might feel the same way.”

  “I can’t give up control,” she said in a strangled voice. Oh, bubbles, how had the conversation turned to this?

  Staring at her, Sam continued to caress her wrist with her thumb. “How do I explain this?” he pondered. “I still have the ultimate control. At any time, I can say my safe word and Roarke will stop what he is doing immediately, without recriminations or without making me feel guilty. But I haven’t safe-worded once, because I trust him. Everything he does is with me in mind. He always puts me first and he would never, ever harm me. Do you understand?

  “I don’t have to worry or think or stress about anything when we’re playing, because the only thing I have to do is what he tells me. It’s like all the stress and everything else in my day melts away. Sometimes, I’ll ask him for that when we’re not having sex or playing. Sometimes when I just want to lose myself in him, I’ll ask if we can go into high protocol and then Roarke takes charge.”

  “High protocol?”

  He nodded, his forehead twisting as he thought over his words. “High protocol is when we move more firmly into our dominant and submissive roles. Even though I said that neither of us ever truly switches off that part off, in high protocol, the roles are more firmly set out. I call him Sir, he calls me pet. He takes charge of everything and I obey. Sometimes it might be as simple as me kneeling at his feet while he works, other time he might tie me up and play with me for hours on end.” Sam shivered, obviously taken at that idea.

  “He becomes stricter. There is no sassing or answering back allowed. And I become more submissive. It’s the same during play, but even more intense even though there may be no sex.”

  Ava nodded, understanding some of what he was saying.

  “Just, don’t be afraid of your needs or feelings, sweet. Even though I know they can be scary, you can always come to me to talk or to Roarke. Believe it or not, he’s a good listener and neither of us would judge you.”

  “I don’t know.” She looked away again, blushing. “I’ve read about this stuff, but, you know, I’ve also read about werewolves and vampires. The reality is probably far different than my fantasies.”

  Jesus, did I just say fantasy?

  Sam smiled wolfishly, his gaze growing carnal. “Fantasy, hmm? Well, sweet, I can’t turn into a vampire or werewolf, but if there are any other fantasies you want fulfilling...I have a superman outfit in my wardrobe.” He winked at her.

  Ava burst into laughter. “Yeah, right.” She flicked her hand at him. “Get out of my office before you get me fired.”

  “Superman away.” He jumped up, shooting one arm up into the air.

  Ava giggled. “Just don’t start wearing your undies over your pants, all right?”

  “No worries there, sweet. I never wear any.”

  Before she could think of a reply, he was gone. Damn man, she got hardly any work done for the rest of the day thinking about him going commando.

  *****

  “I’m making a run to Harley's,” Sam said, walking into her small office. He dropped a cup of green tea on the desk for her. “What can I get you?”

  Ava smiled at him. She’d been here a month and had really come to care about him. She’d quickly learned that Sam liked to look after others. He’d stocked the kitchen with her favorite brand of green tea. He constantly brought her food, trying to tempt her. Little did he know the stress he brought on when he placed some cake or biscuits in front of her.

  The temptation just to taste before spitting it out often haunted her.

  “Nothing, thanks. I have a salad.”

  He frowned. “You always have a salad. You’d better not be dieting.” They’d had this conversation a few times.

  “Sam, I’m fine,” she said. This is what she always ate. She had to keep her weight down.

  Sam shook his head and sighed. “You know, if you were ours, you’d never get away with this sort of behavior.”

  Ava gaped after him as he left. Had he meant that? No, he couldn’t have. They were gay.

  Theirs.

  Picking up the cup of tea to blow on the hot liquid, she pondered that. Did that sort of thing happen in real life? Threesomes? She’d certainly read stories and fantasized about what it might be like to have two men love her, take care of her, cherish her.

  She shivered at the thought. Sam, who heated her blood, who made her laugh, who took care of her. And Roarke, dark, delicious Roarke. Mysterious. Slightly scary. And yet she’d never felt as safe as she did in his presence.

  “Ava,” Roarke barked.

  She jumped; shocked out of her thoughts as his loud voice came through the open doorway. Hot tea shot out of the cup, landing on her lap, searing through her black pants to burn the sensitive skin beneath.

  Unable to stop the whimper of pain, Ava quickly stood and reached across to grab some tissues. She didn’t want Roarke knowing. Why, she had no idea. But she needed to appear strong and together in front of him, even when she quivered on the inside.

  “Ava?” Roarke called out, sounding concerned. So he should, she usually raced in when he called. She’d worked hard to be the best personal assistant he could need.

  “Coming,” she called back. Looking down at her pants, she felt grateful they were black. Of course, most of her wardrobe was. Grabbing a pen and paper she gingerly walked into Roarke’s office and hoped like hell he didn’t notice the huge wet patch on her trousers.

  Yeah, she might as well have wished for money-growing trees.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked as soon as he saw her. “Are you in pain?” His eyes, sharp as an eagle, ran over her. “What’s on your pants?”

  Standing, he moved swiftly around the desk.

  “I’m fine,” she protested, holding her hand out. “It’s just a bit of tea, it will dry out soon. Now, what did you need?” She tried to sound professional, she really did. But it was supremely difficult when tears were welling in her eyes from pain burning a tattoo on her legs.

  “You spilt hot tea on your lap and you want to work?” he asked incredulously. “Like hell. Get those pants off now.”

  “W-what?” she stuttered in shock. Sure, she’d wanted to hear him utter those words, had dreamed about it most nights. But not like this.

  Not waiting for her agreement, Roarke knelt and started to undo her pants.

  “Roarke, stop,” she cried as he tugged her pants down, leaving them pooled at her feet. She was left standing in a white shirt and blue, lacy panties. She tried to take a step back, away from him but he grabbed her wrist.

  “Stay still,” he growled.

  “This isn’t exactly appropriate,” she cried. “You’re my employer!”

  In her dreams, she’d never imagined that the first time he stripped her would be like this.

  Hell, probably first and last time.

  “Calm down, Ava, or I’ll give you something to really take umbrage over.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  Standing, he lifted her into his arms. Her pants dangled off her ankles, caught by her shoes.

  “Roarke, what are you doing?” she cried.

  “Taking care of you.”

  “I can take care of myself.” She attempted to push at his arms. This was more than a little humiliating.

  He glanced down at her incredulously as he kept walking. “Yeah, because that’s what you were going to do. Instead of stopping to take care of your burn, you were going to keep working,” he accused, walking as he talked. But he didn’t move towards the kitchen or small bathroom on the first floor. Instead he headed up the stairs to the third floor, a place she’d never been.

  “This is a punishable offense, by the way. I expect you to tell Sam or I immediately if you hurt yourself.”

  She snorted. “Like you’ll do anything about it.” He’d threatened to punish her a few times and never followed through. She should be relieved.

  Instead, she felt kind of curious.

  “Don’t be so sure, sweetheart,” he told her in a deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the words and she swallowed heavily at the promise in his voice. That couldn’t be right, though, could it? She was his employee for God’s sake. If he did anything she could have him done for sexual harassment.

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