Well.
Interesting choice of words that. Let me rephrase it: the side of the bed in which Lex slept last night and not his side in that we have sides because anything is actually happening here. I've known the man for two years, but he only met me last week. Plus, he's a dick. A mega, super commando ultra dick.
My eyes catch on the stack of papers sitting on the pillow.
“No,” I whisper conspiratorially which is silly since Lex doesn't seem to be around. I figure he's in the shower or something and scoot over towards the pillow and the stack of questionable white eight-and-a-half-by-elevens. “He didn't. He so did fucking not. No.” I pick up the wad and realize that there are actually two wads. I pick up the smaller one from the bed and feel my lips twitch in frustrated amusement.
Test results from Lex's doctor, dated about two and a half weeks ago. What kind of test results, you might ask. Take a wild guess.
“Negative, negative, negative, negative,” I read, flipping the page and scanning words that make my insides twist and my stomach hurt. These are the reasons I decided not to go all National Geographic and bang Lex's ass without a condom. Fortunately for him, though, he doesn't seem to have a single one of them. There's always the concern that the test is two plus weeks old, and he could've caught something between then and now, but guess what? I'm a responsible adult woman and I have no problem talking to my partner about this shit.
I let the pages flutter together and toss them aside with a cringe. Talk to him? Why should I be talking to him? We're done here. Lex is hardly my partner, sexual or otherwise, just my asshole boss. Maybe. If I decide to go into work today. Lovely of him to leave me his STD test results, but I'm not about to go leaping into the shower to join him.
Especially after I pick up the other stack of papers.
My lips thin and my blood boils.
The contract.
The stupid, fucking, cock sucking, piece of shit, goddamn contract.
“Lex!” I shout, standing up and taking the crimson blanket and the stack of offensive legal jargon with me. Don't even know how he managed to cook this shit up or how he thought it might hold up in court if I did accept. Prostitution is still illegal as far as I know, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. Paying someone for sex constitutes prostitution whether or not the man wants his ass beat or vice versa – not even if he's paying in the millions. I imagine Lex has carefully twisted some sort of ridiculous English wordplay for his own devices. I bet even the moms would find it difficult to pick apart this stupid contract.
I open the door to the bathroom and find … no Lex.
Hmm.
I drop the blanket and slip on the boxers he left me along with the white shirt, my bra, and even the stupid tie. I have no idea why he brought it in here for me, but it makes me feel more dressed up to put it on, so I do.
“Lex?” I shout, wandering around the house in a daze. It really is a beautiful piece of property, nothing at all like I imagined for Lex. In my mind's eye, I saw him in some sterile condo above the office, smack dab in the center of the financial district with metal furniture and black accents, a single piece of art featuring a broken typewriter, and one potted ficus tree for greenery. Instead, Lex has flashed me a bit of vibrant personality with his colorful walls and bright, light antique furniture. His house is such a stark contrast to the desolate, barren wasteland of his office that it makes my head spin. It's the same thing with his dark suits and his colorful ties. Ties that I'll never be able to stare at again without imagining them wrapped around his face, breaking those beautiful lips apart with a slash of vibrant red. I shiver as I pause in the doorway to the dining room. Lex's table is a stunning piece that I'm tempted to shove in the trunk of my Lexus and take home with me. If it'd fit, I might have very well done just that. A long thick piece of knotted wood stretches across the room with big metal studs in the sides and a set of perfectly mismatched chairs, arranged just so.
“I'm jealous,” I mutter as I study the unique details of the table legs, the clawed feet that resemble a dragon's talons. Masculine but not pretentious or barbaric. Huh. He probably had a decorator take care of all this for him. I try not to be impressed, moving over to the front window and gazing out at the street. My car is gone.
I wrinkle my brow and move back towards the kitchen with its mosaic glass tile backsplash in vibrant red, the white marble countertops, Sub-Zero refrigerator, Wolf range with the red knobs. Maxi would be in heaven right now. Cooking is her “passionate hobby” she says, something she loves so much she could never do it as a job. She says every chef she's ever talked to says they wish they hadn't made it their career. I know nothing about cooking, so I can't say if that's true or not, but the thought does remind me of something else.
Somebody spilled the beans.
God, please don't let it be Maxi. I trust that girl with my life, and I really, really don't want to know how I'll react if I find out she blabbed. I take a deep breath and glance at the clock on the wall.
It's half past noon.
“Holy fucking shit!” Not only am I late for work, but apparently I was also exhausted. I don't sleep in this late, I just don't. Especially not at the houses of asshole CEO pig bosses. “Damn it.” I sprint back to the bathroom and grab my phone, knowing full well that there will be missed calls on it – most of them from Maxi. There are. And a couple from the moms, too. My guess? Maxi couldn't find me yesterday afternoon and freaked out, called my parents to make sure I wasn't lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Oops.
I dial them up first because to be honest, I'm afraid to talk to Maxi. I can't find out that she betrayed me or I will go insane. I decide to try June's phone because she always leaves it on the edge of her desk when she's writing. Carol's an environmental lawyer and a hell of a lot harder to get in touch with during the workday.
“Oli, you're alive,” she says, but not like she was really worried. “Maxi will be happy to hear that.” I listen to the clatter of keys in the background and wonder what she's writing about today. Perhaps the importance of leafy greens in the daily diet? Nah. Too tame for her. More than likely she's writing about the benefits of turning lawns into gardens or the dangers of industrial agriculture.
“Yeah, um, sorry about that. I … left the office early yesterday.”
“Not the office I was expecting you to be at,” she says, her keys clicking merrily away. I can imagine her with her brown hair pulled up into a bun at the back of her head, her phone crushed between her ear and shoulder. A glass of homemade kombucha will be sitting to her left (told you my moms are hippies) while a bowl of pretzels rests untouched in her lap. My mother is a creature of habit. She's been writing the same way for years. Occasionally, small things will change – the pretzels will become dried apple chips or peanuts or something – but for the most part, everything remains the same. “What on earth happened yesterday that would put you back at Lyndon Realty Trust?” If Mother's asking that question, it means Maxi didn't tell her about Lex and my romp in the elevator which helps alleviate some of my fears that she's the office rat. If she didn't even tell my moms that, why would she tell Lara Caliper about the contract?
“I, uh, it's complicated.” The moms can sense lies, so I decide not to even try to explain. “I just wanted to let you know that I'm alive and well and looking forward to Craig's commitment celebration ceremony on Friday.” I wrinkle my nose as I say the words, knowing how stupid they sound.
“Excellent. I will text your mom and let her know. We figured when both you and your boss disappeared from the office that things were more than just okay. How was the sex? I assume you finally made it that far.”
“Mother!” I shout because come on, no matter how 'cool' one's parents are, it's never fun to discuss the dirty dance with them. “Seriously?”
“Fine. Fine. Don't tell me. I don't even want to know. You might want to call Maxi though. When you didn't show up for work this morning, she called us again in a panic. She even stopped by your place abou
t,” June pauses, “a half an hour ago to see if you were there. When she called me again, I told her you were probably at Lex's place.”
“Mother!”
“Call your friend before she has a panic attack. I'll see you on Friday and we'll talk then. I have to go. I'm late for a deadline.” June hangs up before I get a chance to sputter and deny her accusations with vehemency that will only further confirm she knows the truth. I sigh and lean back against the counter, rubbing my forehead with two fingers. Great. Now everybody in my life will know I slept with Lex. Oh, pride and dignity! You can go ahead and move out now. I no longer deserve you. I scowl at the beautiful hardwood floors beneath my feet.
“I'm an adult woman. I can sleep with whoever I want. Who cares what anybody else thinks?” My words are true, but my intent is a little skewed. See, it's not everybody else I'm worried about: it's me. It's what I think that bothers me.
I dial Maxi's phone, cringing when she answers on the first ring with a violent gasp.
“Olivia Olsen Ashcraft! Where the fuck have you been?”
“I, uh – ” Maxi gasps again.
“You didn't!” I crinkle my eyebrows together.
“Didn't what?” I ask indignantly.
“I KNEW IT!” she screams, and I cringe a little. “The second I saw Lex Lyndon saunter in here looking like the cat that got the cream, I knew it. You did, didn't you? You slept with that monster.”
“Maxi,” she interrupts me in typical Maxi Madison Heath fashion.
“You fucked the boss. I knew it. I didn't want to know it, but I did. When he stormed into your office and then suddenly you were just gone, and I looked everywhere for you, and there were rumors of a couple fucking in the parking garage.”
“Wait, what?” Maxi ignores me.
“And then you didn't show up for work this morning but you weren't at home when I tried to stop by with a get well soon kit – with a stunning 2010 cab from Ballentine Vineyards that I'm so not sharing with you now.” Maxi takes a deep breath. “Okay, but he was good in bed, right? Did you tie him up? Did you beat him with a whip? Oh, oh, oh, if he really is into that kinky sub stuff, you should get these really cool restraints I saw online. They slide under the mattress in an X shape, and you can use them whenever, but they also tuck away, so nobody sees them.”
“Maxi,” I begin, bracing for another interruption. Only this time she waits quietly, and I have to struggle to come up with something to say. I clear my throat. “Maxi, you better damn well have saved that wine for me. If not, I will not be inviting you over this evening to share stories.” Maxi gasps again.
“If you invited me over, we'd definitely be failing the Bechdel test, right?” she asks, and I snort, tugging on the red tie that's looped loosely around my neck.
“No. We'd discuss the plight of the Tidewater Goby and how the fish is endangered and important to protect since it's endemic to the streams and lagoons of the California coast. That'll give us a pass on the test and afterwards, we can discuss Lex Lyndon and his massive horse dick.”
“My massive what?”
I scream and drop the cell on the floor, bending down to pick it up before turning to face Lex Lyndon. How he managed to pull up, unlock the door, and walk in without my noticing only serves to further prove how out of my goddamn mind I am for even being in his house this morning.
“What happened?” Maxi's asking, voice rising with panic. I guess my scream was fairly convincing.
“It's nothing. Just … Lex. I have to go, Maxi.” She gasps yet again, right before I hang up on her and realize that I never did ask her if she told Lara Caliper about Lex's contract. I decide it doesn't matter and hos before bros and all that shit. I'll ask Maxi tonight when she stops by, and if she did tell my secret, I'm sure there's a good reason for it. I'll get over it. I'm a strong woman.
I stare at Lex staring back at me, realizing as I do so that a major portion of our communication is made up of silent eye contact and lip twitching. He smiles at me; I frown at him. He's perfectly clean and tailored back to that ideal state of being that I'm used to seeing. Gone is the mussy haired guy with the jizz on his head. I realize I actually almost kind of miss him.
“My horse dick?” he asks, and I hate the sexy grin that rips across his face and brings a spot of wetness blooming between my inner thighs. Damn it. Sex is like potato chips – stay away from them and you can resist, eat one and you are screwed.
“I was talking about Maxi's actual horse,” I say which is really dumb because we live in fucking downtown San Francisco. Lex raises an eyebrow at me, looking delicious in his dark suit. Today, he's sporting a purple tie that's just begging for me to grab hold of it, drag him to me, crush our mouths together until …
Shit.
I cut that line of thinking off at the throat and cross my arms over my chest, knowing how stupid I probably look in his boxers and button-down, tie dangling off my neck in a slash of red.
Lex sets a bag down on the counter and immediately, I smell food. My stomach rumbles and I have to swallow several times before I can get myself together. If I'm not mistaken, there's wonton soup in them there containers. Fucking asshole. Either he's teasing me with food I don't get to eat or he's brought me the soup we both ate last week as some sort of hey, remember that one time gesture. Either way, this is going to get dangerous.
“Really? Where does she board? I know it can be a headache trying to find a good place within driving distance.” Lex sighs dramatically. “One of the few downsides of our beautiful city is lack of space.” Lex shrugs his suit jacket off and then reaches up to loosen his tie.
“What do you know about horses?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly. I have a feeling that this is an argument I will soon lose, but to save face, I have to try.
“My family has a ranch in Saratoga where we keep our horses.” He smiles at me and the expression is … friendly enough but tinged with something darker, like a shark smiling at you right before he bites down. “It's eight and a half acres, absolutely beautiful. I'd love for you to come visit sometime.” I ignore the invitation and, more importantly, the implication that we'll have some sort of future relationship where visiting the Lyndon family horse ranch would be a suitable option for a weekend getaway.
“Eight and a half acres, huh?” I ask, trying to keep him from asking that if I was indeed taking about an actual horse, why then was I referring to said horse as Lex and, especially, why I was talking this horse's massive erection. “Pretty pricey I take it?”
Lex moves around the counter towards me, but I don't step back. I'll never step away from or cower from any man. My mothers taught me better than that. Today, though, today Lex doesn't seem like he's trying to intimidate me. It actually seems like he might be trying to … touch me.
“Twenty nine million dollars,” he says, and I almost choke on my spit. “That was before it was developed. It's worth three times that now.” Lex reaches out and takes hold of my tie, tying it in a proper knot. I let him – not sure why, but I do – and then watch as he steps back and continues to smile at me. “But I don't think you really care about horses, do you, Oli?” Argh! Why does he have to use my nickname? I find it easier to hate on him when he says Miss Ashcraft.
“What's your point? Maybe I was talking about a horse, maybe I was talking about your dick. I fucked it last night, so that gives me every right to gossip with my friend about it.” Lex's mouth twitches and some of that familiar anger rises again, turning his cheeks a slight shade of red – not from embarrassment but from irritation.
“Is this the same girl you gossiped to about our contract?”
“Hah!” I shout, poking Lex right in the chest as I remember the contract and the STD test results he left on the pillow for me. “Wouldn't you like to know that? Besides, even if it was Maxi, she'd never tell a soul. Point your accusatory finger elsewhere, please.” Lex glares at me and I glare right back. “Besides, speaking of contracts, this is not our contract but rather yours, and
I have no clue what you fucking intended by leaving those test results on the pillow.” I pause and take a deep breath to continue ranting. “And, furthermore, what the hell do you think you're doing, borrowing my car? You never asked. And you didn't wake me up for work. You just leave me here in your bed, drooling all over your expensive pillows.” I lift my chin up defiantly and wait for his response.
Lex stares back at me for a moment, nostrils flaring in anger.
“You fucked me last night – multiple times. You did exactly as I asked in the contract. Why not just sign it? It won't change anything. We can continue on like this for an exclusive six month period and you'll make a fortune. Why are you being so stubborn?”
I raise my eyebrows at him and find myself gaping in astonishment at his idiocy.
“Are you freaking serious right now, Lex? You thought because I fucked you that I would automatically sign your stupid contract? Did you not understand a word that I said to you on Friday?” He narrows his eyes at me and they're gray as concrete, none of that strange warmth left in them.
“It makes no sense for you to continue to do this for free when you could make such a handsome profit.”
I scream, seriously scream in wild frustration. Either the man is stupid or his view of the world is so warped that he just isn't getting it.
“Lex. I had sex with you because I felt like getting laid. That's it.” I slap my hands together like I'm brushing dirt off my palms. “Period. End of sentence. There is no continue, okay? Me and you,” I point between us, “this is it.”
“Olivia,” Lex says stepping back and opening the plastic bag on the counter. He extracts two plastic containers and pushes one towards me like a peace offering. I stare at it for a moment before looking back up at him. He's still mad, but he's controlling his anger, tamping it down and biting it back. “Let's eat and discuss this rationally. As far as work, I'm sorry I didn't wake you up, but I can guarantee that the boss isn't upset about it.” He offers up another one of those weird smile things at me. I just stare back at him, my eyes wide and practically bulging out of my head. What am I doing here? “Just make sure you're there at eight tomorrow or I'm writing you up.” Lex says this completely deadpan, but I think he's … joking with me.
Taming Her Boss Page 18
