by Nikki Sloane
Everything went cold and my mind went to war with itself, torn between anger and hurt. How could we have done all of that last night if he wasn’t single? I hadn’t been allowed to ask questions, but I had assumed I wouldn’t need to ask that one. How could he?
“Oh.” That was all I could say, when I really wanted to say, “Oh, shit.” How was I going to explain I wasn’t his girlfriend to his mom? She knew I’d come out of his bedroom. The dress I was wearing was not Sunday brunch attire. If I wasn’t his girlfriend, then that made me the girl he was fucking on the side. Which, apparently, I was. My growing anger and embarrassment was getting to be too much—
“Yes,” his voice came from the bedroom doorway, drawing our attention. “Yes, this is her.”
The asshole had pulled on a pair of pants, and his eyes pleaded with me to play along. I let mine go narrow. Why should I do what he wanted? He had a girlfriend for that.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Evelyn,” his mother said to me, extending a hand. “I’m Susan.”
Wait, what?
How did she know my name? It couldn’t be coincidence. There weren’t many women from my generation named Evelyn. I stared at her hand like it was alien, and then slowly shook it, trying not to be rude. When I let go, I turned to Logan and his face was blank. What the hell was going on?
“I gave you that key for emergencies,” he said to her.
“You didn’t answer your phone, and when I came in I saw the broken glass.”
“We’re fine.”
“Well, can you hurry up then? We’re already late.”
“Late? What time is it?” His eyes searched for a clock. “Fuck.”
She straightened at the obscenity. “Language, please. Will you be coming too?” She eyed my dress with concern.
“No,” I said. It didn’t matter what it was, all I wanted now was to get the hell out of there. “I need to get going.”
“Wait a minute, let me get dressed and drive you home,” he said.
Susan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot miss another one of his meets. Are you going with me or not?”
There was enormous conflict in his eyes. “Yes, but I need a minute. Evelyn, can we—”
The whiplash from hurt and anger to overwhelming confusion and suspicion was crippling. I had to escape, to flee before I lost it. “Forget it, I’ve got to run. Nice meeting you.”
“No.” He stalked toward me but I snatched up my purse and glared back. I tried to make sure he knew it would be better to let me be.
“Oh, wait,” Susan said. “I think this is yours? It’s got your name on it.”
She lifted up the fat envelope of cash, but I don’t think she noticed her action wound the tension tighter between Logan and me. If I told her to leave it, that it was Logan’s, would she take a peek inside? I grabbed the envelope.
He followed me to the door. “Please, wait, I need to talk to you.”
“You can call me later.” The scrutiny of his mother’s gaze was heavy and I needed relief. I needed relief from his panicked eyes.
He couldn’t ask me for my number if he wanted to keep up the charade that I was his girlfriend. So the idiot leaned in and tried to kiss me goodbye, but I anticipated this tactic. I shifted my head at the last second so his kiss fell on a cheek, and I hurried through the door before he could stop me.
My walk of shame was thankfully short. I turned my phone back on during the cab ride home and discovered I had a half dozen missed calls and eighteen text messages. Two were from Payton and the rest were from Blake. They ranged from apology to concern, and I deleted them. My head was a fucking mess.
The likelihood of Logan calling me was next to nothing. My cell phone number was too close to a Thai restaurant’s, and last month I’d given up trying to explain to annoyed customers that they’d dialed wrong. I hadn’t gotten around to updating my work file with the new number because weekend emergencies didn’t happen in graphics.
By the time I was done showering, I’d replayed the conversation in my mind several times. What I knew for fact was he’d told his mother he had a girlfriend. After that, it was speculation. Either his mother didn’t know my name and had seen it on the envelope, or he’d told her we were dating.
I was dressed and about to call Payton when my front door buzzed.
“Yes?” I asked.
“Evie, thank god you’re okay,” Blake’s voice crackled through the intercom. “Can I come up?”
There was no putting him off, so I jammed my finger on the button. A minute later he was through my door, pulling me into his arms.
“Are you all right?” He crushed me against his body. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that was? Going home with some random guy from that place?”
I pushed away from his embrace. “He’s not random, he’s my boss.”
“Is that some sort of sex club term?”
“No,” I snapped. “He’s my boss. As in, the manager of the graphics department.”
Blake’s face contorted in a mixture of horror and confusion. “You know him?”
“Yeah.” And no, not at all.
I folded my legs beneath me on my couch, and seconds later he joined me. He looked like he hadn’t slept at all. I wondered what he’d told Amy, but didn’t bother to ask. It didn’t matter. His angry comment to Payton had shown me a side I hadn’t seen before, and it was going to be tough to repair the damage.
“I know I shouldn’t have said it when I did, but I’m not sorry I said it.” Even with the exhaustion, he looked handsome. Just like the man I had been in love with until last night. “I love you.” It came out just as forced as last time.
I leaned forward and cradled my head in my hands. “I can’t deal with this right now.”
My phone chimed with a new email. It wasn’t my personal account, it was the office. It could only be one person. Typical form for his emails, it was short and direct.
I need your number, the one on file is incorrect.
I set my phone down on the coffee table and pushed it away. I decided to deal with the man sitting beside me first.
“If you love her, then go love her. Payton’s right, Amy deserves a man who’s honest with her. And so do I.” My eyes ticked over to the phone, and then back to him. “If we were meant to get together, I think it would have happened for us.”
“It’s all messed up, I know. Tell me what you want. Do you still love me?”
“I seriously cannot have this conversation right now.”
“Why?”
What the hell did he mean, why? Because I’d just had the most amazing sex of my life last night with a man who was fascinating. His comment about “next time” danced through my brain and tortured me.
“Last night was way intense,” I said. “I haven’t processed an ounce of it yet. But since you brought it up, I guess you remember New Year’s Eve.”
His expression softened. “I think about it a lot.”
“Did you tell Amy about it?”
I knew his answer would be ‘no’ because it’s not awkward between Amy and me. At least, not on her end, unless she’s some sort of insanely gifted actress. I highly doubt she’d let Blake continue his friendship with me in its current capacity if she knew I was in love with her boyfriend.
When he didn’t answer, I went to the door to show him out.
“I need you to give me some space right now. I’ll call you later in the week.”
When he didn’t move, I worried he wouldn’t go. But he sighed and came to me, his hand cupping my face. “We’ll figure it out.”
My phone chimed with another email, breaking the spell he had on me. I locked the door behind him when he left, and hurried to check the email. This time it was my address and:
I’ll be there in twenty minutes.
I emailed Logan back, wanting to meet on neutral ground, in public, so I’d be less likely to murder him. Also, a place with no beds in sight.
I won’t let you in. See y
ou tomorrow, boss.
Getting ready for work is usually a chore. It’s a battle to figure out what I wore recently so I’m not repeating outfits, and to make sure I’m dressing appropriately for the weather. It’s only a few blocks from the CTA stop to the office building, but my day can be ruined before it starts if it’s raining and I’m not prepared.
Today was difficult on a whole new level. I pulled on my favorite bra and panty set, a baby pink one with tiny black polka dots, hoping it would make me feel like everything was okay and I wasn’t about to endure the most uncomfortable day of work in my life.
I dressed in tan crop pants and a cream-colored blouse with glossy tan pumps, one of my newest outfits, which I accessorized with a coral-colored statement necklace. I try to dress the line between designer and business professional, and this is one of the few outfits I think pulls it off.
My pumps were tossed into my oversized purse right beside the envelope of cash I’d have to give to him. Maybe I’d wait until he went to lunch and put it on his desk, but that was a lot of money to leave in the open. I was sure he’d come find me anyway. There’d been no response to my email, and I found that a little scary.
I tried to read my book on the train ride in, but I kept scanning the same page over and over again and absorbing none of it. I had planned on coming in early, thinking I could get past his office door and to my cube before he was in, but I took too long getting ready and wound up ten minutes late. His light was on and the door open as I came down the hall. All I could hope was he wasn’t in his office right now.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it empty, and that sigh died in my throat when I turned the corner into my cube.
“You’re late,” Logan said, his face dark.
I’d taken my time and selected what I thought was my best attire, and I had the suspicion he’d done the same. His steel-colored button-down shirt looked flawless against his tan skin, and I knew exactly where below his black pants the tan stopped. His tie was the perfect shade of gunmetal gray and for a moment I wondered if I could pull out my Pantone deck and find the matching swatch.
I set my bag down and pulled out my chair to sit. “Yes, I’m running behind this morning.”
“Can we speak in my office?”
I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. “Only if it’s work related.”
His expression didn’t change in the slightest. “What else would it be?” He left me there, wordlessly demanding I follow. My blood boiled.
I remained in the doorway of his office as if that would keep him from trapping me there. He held up a frosted envelope — a job jacket with the design specs and guidelines.
“This is the GoodFood jacket. They want a complete identity rebrand,” he said. “No green, the client was adamant. Modern, but not trendy or pretentious.”
This was a huge job, and the fact he was assigning it to me temporarily let me forget about the awkwardness. “You’re giving it to me?”
“You don’t think you can handle it?” he said, maybe concerned I hadn’t ripped it from his hands yet.
“No, I can. I feel comfortable taking on a project of this size.” I took the jacket from him, disoriented when he didn’t say anything. He wasn’t even looking at me; it looked like he was scanning his email. How did he not want to talk about what happened?
“Did you need something else?” he asked, like I was hovering over him annoyingly.
Then I understood. This was another test, a game. He wanted me to initiate the conversation. Not a chance.
“Just to say thanks.” My heels were silent on the carpet as I exited his office, a smile on my lips. This was a game I would win.
Getting the GoodFoods account couldn’t have come at a better time. I worked through lunch researching the client and reading their complaints with their current branding over and over again, so I could address their issues in the best way possible.
I never saw him during the day. But at quarter to five, I got an email from Logan without a subject line, and I held my breath.
I need you to vectorize this logo for a client, and they need it ASAP. Since you were late, you can stay late.
When I opened the file, I cursed at the screen. It was a piece of crap image composed of ten different gradients and mesh fills. There was no way I could run a trace program on it. I’d have to redraw it from scratch, and it would take at least an hour. This was bullshit busywork. Punishment.
It’s amazing how the office clears out at five minutes after five with people dashing to make their trains. I shoved my headphones on and got to work, jealous, but this was totally like Logan, and it was fair. I had been late.
I finished the logo in record time, my annoyance fueling me to the end. As soon as I was composing an email to Logan with the finished artwork attached, a new email appeared from him. He was still here?
Come to my office now and bring the envelope.
I dug it out of my purse and thundered into his office, slamming it down on the desk, startling him.
“Good night,” I spat and turned on my heel to leave.
“Enough,” he said, standing. “Close the door, we need to talk.”
It’s what I wanted, and yet I dreaded it.
He must have sensed my hesitation. “Let me sweeten the deal, then.” There was an edge of unease in his voice. “Rules one and two apply.”
I spun, incredulous. “How is that sweetening the deal?”
“Because they apply to me.”
chapter
NINE
The door banged loudly when I closed it. I may have been a little too forceful in my eagerness. He wasn’t allowed to ask me questions, but had to answer all of mine honestly? That did sound pretty fucking sweet.
“Lock it,” he said.
“Why?”
He looked uncomfortable. “Because I’m hoping we’re going to end up fucking in here.”
Well, that was an honest answer, but I felt like turning the bolt on the door was agreeing to it.
“Better safe than sorry,” he added.
I flipped the lock and sauntered over to the chair facing his desk, the same one I’d revealed my horrible mistake in.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” I asked. Even though this was his office, I was the one in control. He lowered back into his chair, his gaze fixed on me. “Why do you look so nervous?”
“Because I don’t know what questions you’re going to ask.”
“This was your idea,” I reminded. “Do you have a girlfriend?”
A small amount of relief seemed to run through him as he sat back. “No, I don’t.”
A much larger amount of relief coursed through me. “Then why did you tell your mother I was?”
“My brother’s getting married this weekend. My younger brother. She’s convinced I’m not ever going to get married, that it’s too late for me now that . . . I’m over thirty.” He loosened the knot of his tie and unbuttoned his sleeves, rolling them up as he continued talking. “She forbid me to show up at the wedding dateless, using that as an excuse to fix me up with someone horrible. So I told her I was seeing someone.”
“And you picked me?”
“She asked me for a name, and I gave her yours.”
I found that a little difficult to believe. “My name was the first one to pop in your head?”
A mischievous smile grew on his face. “Yes. I couldn’t believe my dumb luck when she came in and dropped your name.”
“What was your plan when you showed up dateless to the wedding?”
“I’d tell her that you broke up with me, and I was going to be too depressed to chat with any of the available women she wanted to unleash on me.”
Okay, one major chunk of information sorted through, now on to the other one. “How did you know I was at the club?”
“Pass.”
“I’m sorry, pass?”
“We’ll come back around to it in a minute.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he added, “I’m not v
iolating the rule. It says I have to answer it and answer it truthfully. It doesn’t say when I have to do it.”
I don’t know which I was more irritated about — the fact he hadn’t answered, or that I hadn’t known I could do that when his rules applied to me.
“Where did you get the money?”
“My 401K.”
My eyes fell on the envelope sitting on the desk. Oh, god. I didn’t pay much attention to investing, but my uncle was an accountant and had helped set up my account. The one thing he’d stressed was to not touch my 401K under any circumstances, because the penalties were steep. I’d only been working at the agency for two years, so what I’d accrued would have been wiped out if I’d tried.
So what this meant was Logan hadn’t really paid twelve grand of his money for me. He’d paid even more.
“Why would you do that?”
He looked guilty. “Part of me felt responsible. I’d come to trust your work, so I had barely glanced at the proof you’d sent me.” His eyes changed and turned warm and seductive. “A much larger part of me did it because I wanted to.”
“Why?” I think I blushed.
“Because I thought you’d be amazing.”
I don’t know why I was nervous when he was the one being interrogated. “So, was I?”
“Didn’t I make it clear that you were?”
My breath was gone for a half-second and then returned with the realization. “Wait, was that a question?” That meant he was supposed to have consequences, but my brain failed me. I couldn’t come up with any kind of playfully torturous thing to do to him that wouldn’t be torturous for me as well. “Answer my question. How did you know about the club?”
He looked a little disappointed that was all I’d come up with.
“Come here, and I’ll show you.”
I sighed and got out of the chair, taking three steps to get behind his desk when he stood abruptly and pulled me against him. “What are you—”
He silenced me with one of his mind-numbing kisses. It wasn’t a delicate, soft kiss. It was an aggressive, controlling, devouring one. He’d slipped a hand behind my neck and the other was tight on my ass, pressing me against him. I struggled to stay above it, but I was drowning in him. Desire flashed white-hot through my body, straight to the center of my legs.
