by Lucy Score
A few of the closer diners shot glances their way.
“I’m not a skank,” Frankie promised them. “She’s just running lines for a play.” Everyone went back to their meals. “Can you try to keep it down, please?”
“I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you to his place. I really thought this was different. Chip said he’s never seen Aiden so—”
“Relax, Cujo. He’s invited me plenty of times.”
“And?” Pru looked at her like she was talking to an idiot.
“And I live in Brooklyn. By the time I get over here and we do our thing, I’d have to spend the night or go straight to work. Take the train…” She trailed off, feeling a sliver of something uncomfortable.
“I see. So, when do you see each other?” Pru asked.
Frankie shifted uncomfortably. “When he comes to Brooklyn.”
“And how often is that?”
“Three or four nights a week,” she said. Five times last week.
“I see,” Pru said primly. “And what kind of events have you gone to with him? Any fundraisers? Galas? The theater?”
Frankie shook her head to each one.
“Have you met his family?” Pru asked.
“Uh, no. He wanted me too, but the timing wasn’t right. He did meet mine.”
Pru brightened considerably. “Really? How did it go?”
“Well, I mainly did it to piss my mom off. Like ‘Hey, Ma, here’s this gorgeous guy I’m seeing. But guess what, we’re just fooling around. No future here. Burn.’” Frankie laughed nervously but quit when Pru didn’t join her.
Pru pinched the bridge of her nose. “Frankie, I’m going to say this with love because I do love you, and I want you to be happy. But you have got to quit the Frosty the Bitch Queen routine before you ruin something amazing.”
“Excuse me?”
The waitress reappeared with their meals. “I’ll just leave you two to it then,” she said when the silence at the table grew awkward.
“Frosty the Bitch Queen?” Frankie repeated.
“Don’t even pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You are freezing Aiden out. Why in God’s name, I have no freaking clue. But you’re trying to sabotage this thing. Do you want to be right that badly?”
Frankie’s jaw was on the table.
“And while I’m talking and you’re listening, Aiden inviting you to his home, to meet his parents, to go to San Fran? He’s trying to share his life with you, jackass. And you’re basically kicking sand in his face.”
“That’s not what I’m—”
“Bullshit.” Pru stabbed her salad with such violence Frankie thought she saw the kale shrivel. “I get that you’re protecting yourself, but you don’t need to hurt him to stay safe.”
Frankie swallowed hard.
“It’s just a fling.” She said it to remind Pru and herself.
“That’s no excuse to treat him like Margeaux treats her housekeeper.”
Frankie brought her hands to her face. She was trying to protect herself. But that was no excuse for purposely rejecting him. Had she hurt Aiden? It wasn’t her intention. Though if the tables were turned… “I’m such an asshole.”
“Frosty bitch queen,” Pru corrected with less vehemence.
“He’s done everything for me, and all I’ve done is reject him.”
“Good,” Pru said, pointing her fork at Frankie. “That’s the guilt I want to see. This is not like you to treat someone as less than.”
“How do I fix it?” Frankie asked.
“We start with dinner tonight.”
“You still want to go with me even though I’m Asshole the Frosty Bitch Queen.”
Pru looked down her nose piously, “My dear, some of us can afford to forgive.”
“Oh. Nice. Now who’s the asshole?” Frankie asked.
“I didn’t want you to feel all alone up there on your high horse.”
“I’ll ask him about dinner tonight. But I’ll do it in person,” Frankie decided.
“Good girl. You can meet me at the salon afterward, and we’ll go shopping so you have something amazing to wear to start your apology tour.”
Frankie eyed her sandwich. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know where he works, would you?”
“You are the worst.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Aiden left the conference room feeling vaguely annoyed. He didn’t care for the old adage, ‘If you want something done right, you’d better do it yourself.’ However, with the fresh crop of new hires in human resources and marketing, he felt like it would just be faster to do their jobs for them.
He made it a point to meet with new hires periodically throughout their first year with the company. He found that flattening the layers of the corporation led to more natural communication and a better absorption into the corporate culture.
But the early meetings were always a pain in the ass. No, Kilbourn Holdings didn’t need its own podcast. And no, they were not replacing all of the desk chairs with bean bags and exercise balls and opening a juice bar downstairs.
He nodded at his admin, Oscar, a thin, fashionable dictator with a French accent who ruled Aiden’s calendar with an iron, manicured hand.
“Well, that ran long,” Oscar announced, glaring at his Rolex watch, a gift from Aiden for the man’s tenth anniversary of dealing with Kilbourn drama.
“I don’t suppose you have lunch waiting for me like a good admin,” Aiden shot back. Their relationship was closer to that of Frankie’s brothers than boss and employee.
“Ah, I have something better than that waiting for you,” he said, pointing at Aiden’s closed office door. “I approve, by the way.”
Aiden frowned and let himself into his office. The sight of Frankie sitting behind his desk swiveling in his chair jarred him hard enough that he froze to the spot for a moment. Oscar closed the door behind him with a stage whisper. “Have fun.”
“Hi,” Frankie said, ceasing her swiveling.
“Hi,” he responded, still shocked to find her in his office. She was dressed for work in a neat little suit that made him want to unbutton the jacket and slide his hands inside. She looked nervous. Something he wasn’t used to seeing on her face. Not his confident, energetic Franchesca.
“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by,” she began, rising from the chair.
“No! Not at all! I mean…” He couldn’t seem to regain his composure. He was so damn happy to see her. “I’m really happy to see you,” he admitted.
“Yeah?” she asked beaming at him. “I was in town for lunch with Pru, and I well, we… Do you have dinner plans?”
He did. Business ones. But having Frankie here in his office asking him for anything trumped that.
“I’m yours,” he said. He meant it.
She flushed and crossed tentatively to him, a paper bag in her hand. “I was hoping you’d be free for dinner with Pru and Chip tonight.”
“What’s in the bag?”
“I know you don’t get a lot of time for lunch, so just in case you didn’t get it yet today I brought you a sandwich.”
“Is it a Baranski sandwich?” he asked snatching the bag from her.
She laughed. “Gio really made an impression on you, didn’t he? Remind me to make you a club sometime. You’ll worship me.”
He already did.
His gaze must have told her as much because she looked down at her shoes and then the bag in his hand. “It’s not one of ours, but it’s a deli a few blocks away that’s almost as good as us. Just don’t tell Dad.”
“Your secret is safe,” he promised.
“Why did Oscar let me in?”
“I told security and reception that you had free rein to come and go as you pleased.”
“When did you tell them that?” Frankie asked.
“The day after I got home from Barbados.”
She bit her lip and dipped her head.
“Is something wrong?” Aiden asked, nudging her chin up to look at him.
“There was, but now there isn’t,” she said firmly.
“Can I ask what?”
She shook her head. “Uh-uh. It’s better that you just go with it.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” He grabbed her wrist and towed her back to his desk where he spread the sandwich out on the bag. Hot roast beef, and was that a whiff of horseradish?
“I had them leave the onions off in case you had meetings today,” Frankie said. She was back to chewing on her lower lip.
“Do I have to share this with you, or am I good to inhale the entire thing?” he asked, keeping the tone light.
“Inhale away. I had a turkey panini and watched Pru choke down six pounds of kale.”
“How are the newlyweds?” he asked.
“Glowing like all the lights in Paris,” Frankie sighed and perched on the edge of his desk. “She looks great and says Chip’s eye is all healed. Is The Oak Leaf at eight good for you?”
He would rearrange whatever it took to clear his schedule. Oscar would whine about the last-minute changes, but Aiden finally had a social occasion that trumped any business.
“That’s fine,” he promised.
“There’s one more thing,” she said. Frankie was watching him closely. “Is it okay if I stay the night at your place? Since I’m already here and all—”
“I’d love that,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. His blood was already roaring through his veins with the thought of Franchesca naked on his bed. Franchesca eating breakfast at his table. Franchesca lounging on his couch or arguing with him over something in his office.
He didn’t know what had caused this abrupt about-face, but he was grateful.
She glanced at her watch. “I should probably head out soon. I’m meeting Pru and we’re going shopping.”
Aiden reached for his wallet and stopped when Frankie pressed her stilettoed foot to his chest. It gave him a direct line of sight up her skirt. “I can buy my own dinner dress, Kilbourn.”
He didn’t know whether to be incredibly turned on with the heel pressing into his pec or annoyed that, once again, she was rejecting him. He decided it was okay to be both.
“Fuck it. Franchesca, this is the one thing I have to offer you, and when you refuse it, it cuts at me.”
“Aiden!” she gasped his name in shock and some anger if he wasn’t mistaken.
Damn it. Why did he have to open his mouth? It never paid to show someone your vulnerability.
Frankie moved her shoe and surprised him by sliding onto his lap. “You think your wallet and your cock are the only reasons I’d be with you?”
He felt his cock thicken at her words. He knew she had to feel him lengthening under her, her skirt pushed up around her hips.
“Do you think that?” she asked again. Those eyes were more blue than green here under the office lights. And they tore at pieces of his soul.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Yes.
“Then I haven’t done a very good job at being your girlfriend,” she sighed. She gripped him by the tie, and he went fully hard under her.
“New deal, Aide. I’m not doing all the taking anymore. Starting now.”
She slid off his lap, and he was still reaching for her when she shoved his chair away from the desk.
When her fingers met his belt buckle, the breath left his body, and he seized up like rigor mortis. “What… we can’t… what if…”
All thoughts and corresponding words left his brain with the last ounce of blood that plummeted to his aching cock. How could one woman make him feel this free, this terrified?
In seconds, she had his cock freed from his pants. “Are you sure your man out there will keep people out?” Frankie asked. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at his erection that she held firmly in her hand.
Aiden couldn’t even find the words to answer her, and Frankie didn’t seem to need them because she was opening her mouth and slicking her tongue over his dick from root to sensitive crown.
He crashed back against his chair and watched in fascination as she did glorious things to his dick with her mouth.
“I want to touch you,” he gritted out when she took him to the back of her throat.
“Mmm, tonight. For now, this is just for you.” Frankie focused her mouth on things much more important than words.
She was slick and hot, and the feel of bottoming out against the back of her throat nearly did him in.
In ecstasy, Aiden’s head fell back against the leather cushion of his chair. She was pumping him with her fist and using her mouth, a heady combination. He’d walked into this room frustrated and tired, and in seconds, she’d turned his entire day around.
Her tongue did something particularly insane to the tip of his dick, and he felt his balls tightening.
“Franchesca,” he hissed.
“I’ve got you, baby,” she promised, kissing his cock before resuming her attention with her mouth. She was no longer languid with her strokes. No. Frankie was hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard enough that he saw stars.
He couldn’t close his eyes though. He wanted this vision of her on her knees in front of him sucking him off. Wanted it forever.
Aiden dug his heels into the rug for traction, fearing that he’d become weightless and float away. He felt it build at the base of his spine and marveled at the witchcraft that brought him to orgasm so quickly.
Giving up all pretense, he gripped her head with both hands and let loose a guttural groan when she let him take over. Fucking her mouth with short, shallow thrusts, he lost himself in the moment. He meant to pull out. But then he was coming, jerking convulsively and pouring his release down her throat.
He went silent as the orgasm ripped through him, hollowing him out even as it filled her mouth.
Nothing. Nothing in this world could have prepared him for the sight of Franchesca at the receiving end of his cock, taking everything he gave without asking for anything in return. He shuddered and collapsed back into the chair, blood rushing in his ears.
She rose from her knees, a goddess no matter her position. She crossed the room and peered inside, finding his private bathroom. Aiden would have directed her to it, but he was a shell of a man right now. Leveled by beauty and desire.
She returned with a warm, damp washcloth and cleaned him thoroughly.
“I haven’t been a very good girlfriend. I’m hoping to improve my score,” she confessed, gently tucking him back into his underwear. “You’re a good man, Aiden. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re unbelievably patient. If I asked you for Cleveland, Ohio, you’d find a way to deliver it to me. You’re insanely generous and surprisingly sweet, and I’m sorry I haven’t been appreciative of it.”
“Gah.” It was the best he could provide verbally after having been completely decimated.
“So I’m going to do a better job, and I’m going to expect you to hold me to a higher standard.” She perched back up on his desk, and he swore he could smell her arousal. He would have fucked her. He would have given her anything she wanted just for visiting him. But she wanted to change the way things were.
Aiden managed a shaky breath and then another one, slowly feeling the life return to his body. “I have an addendum to our deal as well,” he told her.
She watched him warily.
“I’m not suggesting forever,” he began. “But I would like to table the ‘temporary’ aspect of our relationship.”
She stopped breathing, freezing in place like a rabbit in front of a predator.
Aiden reached out, shifting his chair so he was in front of her. “You’re special to me, Franchesca. And I don’t foresee a point when you won’t be.”
“Jesus,” she blew out her breath. “That must have been some BJ,” she said.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about.”
&
nbsp; “The blow job?” she asked cheekily.
He pinched her.
“Ouch! I’m just kidding,” she said.
“Forget the fact that you’re beautiful beyond belief. You’re sharp and mean when you need to be. You have no filter. I’ve never known anyone who didn’t carefully weigh every word. You’re a breath of fucking fresh air in my life.”
“Aide, you’ve got me shaking in my boots here,” she admitted.
“All in, Franchesca. You and me.”
She blew out a slow breath and stared at the ceiling. “What if we fuck it up?”
He squeezed her hips. “I won’t let you.”
She laughed. “Ass,” she said.
He saw the shimmer of tears behind her long lashes. “I’m asking you to take me or leave me,” he told her.
“You ever have this conversation with anyone else you dated?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not even close. You and me, Frankie.”
“I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she admitted, clutching her hand to her belly.
He saw it then, the fear, the nerves. And he made the conscious choice to push the button. “I never would have thought I’d see the day when Franchesca Marie Baranski was too scared to go after what she wanted.”
It was a manipulation, but damn it, he needed this. He needed her.
She nodded, her lips pressed tight. “Okay. All in.”
He rose, lifting her off the desk in a tight embrace.
“You won’t regret it, Franchesca.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Judging from the fingerprints on your neck, things went well with Aiden,” Pru said, eyeing Frankie as she flopped down in the salon chair next to her.
Frankie was too emotionally drained to argue. “You were right, and I was a horrible person,” she admitted, pouting in the mirror.
“When you know better, you do better,” Pru chirped from under her foils.
“We’re officially in a ‘real’ relationship, and I threw up my panini on my way out of the building.”
“You have a cast iron stomach,” Pru pointed out.
