by Ella Brooke
She wasn't aware that it had gotten so bad that other people had noticed it, and now Fiona had given her an extra piece of the puzzle. Apparently, this wasn't normal at all. Natalie had unreasonable bosses before, and before her little talk with Fiona, there was a chance that Patrick was simply one of them. Disappointing and more than a little maddening when she had to work with him, but just another annoyance as she made it through her day.
But now she knew that this was far from usual, and something about that bothered her.
Natalie checked her watch. She was due to be on break now anyway. She made her way up the narrow staircase to the belfry.
Patrick looked about how she expected him to. He had his headset on and was talking to someone in rapid-fire Arabic. She had been surprised to learn that he spoke Arabic, but he had only shrugged, telling her that it was good for business. Now he paced in front of the tall windows of his office, growling something in a language that she didn't understand. She wondered if she should leave, but it wasn't as if she was able to understand what was going on if it was sensitive, anyway. She ended up perched on the corner of his desk, waiting for him to finish. As she waited, Natalie looked at her boss carefully.
Had he always had those dark circles under his eyes? Patrick looked as powerful and lean as ever, but there was something slightly haggard about his expression, something defensive about his stance. He didn't walk, he stalked, like some kind of injured big cat that was ready to lash out with claws at any provocation. She could imagine how terrified his staff must be of him at this moment, but with a certain kind of dark humor, she realized that she was spared. People like Fiona were trying to make lives at Adair. They wanted to stay with a company that everyone admitted was a good one, that provided for them. She, on the other hand, was temporary, and that gave her more freedom to do and to say as she pleased. As temperamental as Patrick had been lately, it might simply mean that she got a little more running room before he cut her off and sent her into the street. However, right now, she wasn't sure she cared. Finally, Patrick ended the call and pulled off his headset. He looked startled to see her sitting on the edge of his desk, but his dark brows pulled together in consternation.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he growled. "You're meant to be on break."
In the back of her mind, Natalie wondered how he always seemed to know when she was meant to be on break or lunch or knocking off for the day. Instead, she only shrugged.
"Yes, I am on break, so I'm on my own time right now. Twenty minutes to do as I please, and I thought that I would come up and spend some time with you. Aren't I nice?"
If anything, his scowl deepened.
"There's no room in this office for someone who's not immediately working or helping me work," he growled. "Get out, get some damned coffee or something."
"As a matter of fact, it's your break too," she said, ignoring the dark look in his eyes. "I figure that you can take it by going out to get some coffee, or maybe we'll just spend it sniping at each other. That works for me, too."
He stared at her as if she had grown another head.
"What the hell kind of game are you playing? Get out of here. I have work to do. I don't have time for a break."
He went to sit down at his desk chair, presumably to get onto his laptop and to make it even easier to ignore her, but that was where he made a great error.
Natalie could move quickly when she wanted to, and in a moment, she had put herself between him and the laptop. That also put her right on his lap, but that was immaterial, she decided. There was a part of her that craved this contact with him, but she decided that she would simply ignore that in favor of the greater good, which was making sure that the man took goddamn break before he actually broke.
"What the hell, Natalie?" he growled, looking so incensed that it was funny.
"Seriously. Take a break. You've been shouting at me all morning, and I think it's beginning to freak people out. It would be one thing if it were just me, not that I deserved any of it, but when your shouting fits start to make people twitch, it's not doing anything for morale around here. Work's on slowdown because no one knows what's setting you off, so quit it."
Her short speech shook him, and when Patrick frowned up at her there was doubt in his eyes.
"People are upset?"
"I would say more alarmed and wondering if they are going to be looking for new jobs soon," she said.
He scowled at her.
"I'm not planning on firing anyone."
"Yeah, but they don't know that. There are people with families downstairs, and they want to make sure that they are going to be able to continue feeding and housing those families. They do not want to suddenly find themselves on the street because you are having a bad hair day or whatever, and that is why I am currently sitting on top of you and making you take a damned break."
Patrick's expression eased a little bit, and he looked a little guilty as he glanced up at her.
"And you are here because you are not afraid of any of that?"
"My situation gives me a unique freedom to do as I like," she retorted. "After all, no matter what happens, I'm out of here when the floors are done, remember? Free and clear with a ticket that the company's owner promised me. I get to be a little more aggressive."
His gaze darkened, but now there was something else in it, something hot and intense. She could feel the change in the air, and she responded to it. The smart thing would have been to hop off of him now that she had made her point, but instead, she leaned into him a little more. His body was tensing underneath her, and almost deliberately, he arched up against her.
"Aggressive? When I met you, you were being hauled into an alley. How aggressive can you really be?"
A flash of anger streaked through her at his harsh words, but that anger was warmed by something besides those words. It was the tension that he had put them through over the last few weeks. It was the strain that she had been under living with a man who called to her like water without being able to touch him. Right now, she knew that she could not afford to be baited even as she fell right into it.
"I'll show you aggressive," she said, and she reached up to fist her small hands in his hair.
With more boldness than she knew she possessed, she leaned up and kissed him hard on the mouth. She had meant to make it short and punishing, to tell him that she was not afraid of him or in the least intimidated by what he was saying.
She had not expected him to respond instantly, crushing her in his arms and drawing her so close she could barely breathe. After a moment of shock, he kissed her in return with just as much need, just as much pent up desire. Her kiss was like throwing a match onto a stack of dry tinder, and they held on to each other tightly, as if they never wanted to let go.
Patrick was the one who broke away first, but he only moved to her throat. She could feel teeth as well as lips there, and there was a silvery pain that cut through her as he bit gently. She started to cry out, but then he laved her skin with his tongue, the pain feeding off of the pleasure and the pleasure feeding off of the pain. She could feel his arousal underneath her, and it woke her own as well, making her long for this man.
She never would have called herself a passionate person, but now she was hanging off of him as if she would die if she were pulled away. She needed this man, she craved him, and she knew that it was all hopeless.
They might have continued to the point of no return and past it when there was suddenly a step on the stairs. It was loud, it was coming closer, and for a moment they both froze.
Natalie imagined Patrick bellowing at whoever the innocent person was who had interrupted them, and with a whispered curse, she slid off of his lap. Patrick made a startled sound, grabbing at her as he thought she had fallen off of him in surprise. Instead, she slithered to the ground and tucked herself between his knees and the desk, hiding her from view of the door.
"Excuse me, sir? I have those figures that you asked for."
; "Oh. Yes, come in."
She didn't know the man who had brought the paperwork for Patrick, but she couldn't resist a slight giggle at the idea of him figuring out that there was a woman hiding under his boss's desk. Patrick and the man spoke for a few moments, and she wondered if he noticed that Patrick's voice was slightly strained, just a little odd. Probably not. Patrick had been acting so irritable lately that the man was likely just happy that the boss hadn't started yelling.
It seemed like an eternity passed when Natalie was under the desk, though it was only a few minutes. Absently, she stroked Patrick's knee, startled when he tensed up. Intrigued, she kept half an ear on what he was saying to the man, and repeated the motion.
She could feel the shiver of response throughout his frame, and she grinned to herself. Patrick was not a man who ever felt out of control, and she wondered how it felt to him now, trying to talk to an employee while she was touching him. It was innocent, she thought, it wasn't like she was touching anything particularly sensitive.
The man finally said his goodbyes, and as soon as the door clicked after him Patrick's hand shot down and grabbed Natalie by the arm, dragging her back up.
"You infuriating little witch!" he exclaimed, and Natalie couldn't help bursting into giggles.
"You kept twitching!" she exclaimed. "It wasn't my fault that you were so responsive!"
For a moment, she thought that Patrick really would just throw her out of his office, and that was something that she couldn't even begrudge him.
Then, like magic, a slow smile spread over his face and he started to laugh as well. His arms came around her in a hug that felt oddly innocent despite everything that they had been shouting about before, and he buried his face in her belly like it was the most natural thing in the world. Natalie wrapped her arms around his head, hugging him a little as she laughed, and as she did she realized that it just felt good. This man felt good when they weren't snapping and snapping at each other. The realization made her sad, and she wondered why it couldn't be like this all the time.
"Because we are two very different people, I suppose," he said, and with a blush, she realized that she spoke her wistful question out loud.
"We are still two different people who managed to laugh together," Natalie murmured, but she slid away. The realization that she had earlier, that it would be terrible when she left Patrick, was still true. Sometimes, she wondered if the warmth was going to make it worse than all the yelling had.
Patrick sighed, and the look he gave her was free of the anger and frustration that he had showed her lately. Instead, it was sad, and she knew in the core of her being that that was worse — far worse.
"Break's nearly over," he said, and she could hear the return of that stiffness to his tone. She wished she could reach out again and break it, but that would not have been fair to either of them. "You can get yourself some coffee before you go back to it."
"No, I think I'll just leap right in," Natalie responded, a bit of sadness in her own tone. "I mean, sooner begun is sooner done, right?"
In this case, that saying was terribly true. The sooner she got her work done, the sooner she would be done with Patrick, and the thought made her heart feel as if it was tearing in two.
Chapter Nine
The man at the small coffee stand gave her a sympathetic look as he made the coffee, and he handed it to her in a to-go cup without being asked.
"Big man getting you down today?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes.
"You don't even know the half of it," Natalie replied, and then she was back in the bucketing downpour. Her lost umbrella had not provided her with a great deal of cover, but it had been better than nothing. It was far better than the cold rain soaking her through the skin she did her best to cover the coffee with her body.
At some point, this took a downright sadistic turn, she thought, but it was too much to try to figure the twists and turns that had brought her down to this strange place.
The building was quiet by the time she got back in, and she climbed the stairs up to Patrick's belfry office without seeing a single soul. It occurred to her that she and Patrick might be the last two people in the building, and the idea gave her an odd thrill even as it made her wary.
He's your boss, dummy, she thought. This is like the first thing they tell you not to do when when working in a foreign country.
"All right," Natalie said through gritted teeth. "Here's your damn coffee."
"I generally prefer that my coffee be served with a smile, pet," her employer said absently, and then he looked up from his work to stare at her. "Did you decide to take a dunk in the river?" Patrick asked, his accent getting a little sharper as he rose from his desk to take the coffee from her.
After everything she had gone through with the man, she thought that he would simply make some kind of acid remark about not dripping on his floors, but he surprised her again. He took the coffee from her and only took one quick sip before placing it absently on his desk.
"I walked through a bucketing downpour to get that," she said accusingly. "You better enjoy every last drop."
There was a ghost of a smile on his handsome face as he shook his head.
"I would not be very much of a gentleman if I allowed you to go dripping your way about after doing me such a service, would I?"
She started to retort that she didn't think that he was much of a gentleman at all when he went back to the door she had glimpsed before, the one nestled against the bank of law books. Now that he opened it, she could see that there was a small but elegant bedroom inside. He indicated that she should enter.
"There's a fresh robe on the back of the bathroom door," he said. "Pass your clothes out, and I'll run them down to the dryer downstairs."
Natalie started to make some kind of acidic remark about Patrick not dirtying his hands, but she was just too tired to do so. She had been working hard all day, her clothes felt as if they weighed an extra forty pounds, and right now all she wanted to be was warm.
She walked past him into the room, and after the door shut behind her she couldn't help looking around with curiosity.
It made sense that a man as busy as Patrick would have a place to sleep when his work kept him late, but only a man as well-off as Patrick could have a space this elegant.
The room was just large enough to hold a king-sized bed with a rather spartan dresser beside it, but the ceiling was taken up with a skylight. She looked up at the wide glass expanse, her breath stolen away by the roil of storm clouds above. She shook herself to pull away from the gorgeous view and focused on doing as he said.
The bathroom was simple and oddly traditional, given how much Patrick prized modernity. It was a room done up in white and green tile with a simple sink and mirror next to a simple tub with a shower attachment added almost as an afterthought.
Very utilitarian, Natalie mused. I guess this bedroom suite really only has one purpose.
Then she glanced at the back of the door and swiftly re-evaluated that stance. There were not one but two hooks on the back of the door. On one of the hooks was a robe that was very clearly Patrick's. It was tailored to his proportions, and it was colored his signature charcoal gray. It was luxurious but well-worn, a testament, likely, to how much time the man spent at his office.
The other robe was significantly smaller, and when she ran a finger down the sleeve, it had the crispness of an item of clothing that was brand-new. It was short, and even if Natalie had put it on, she realized that it would fall closer to her hips than her knees. It was a smooth, fleshy peach, and there was really only one a reason a man like Patrick would keep something like that around.
Natalie frowned as she stripped off her sodden clothes. She paused for a moment at her bra and her panties, but in a moment of defiance, she stripped them off too. Wet clothes were terrible, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she was completely bare. She rolled her underwear in her dress, and looked at the robes again.
I know what he expects
me to wear, she thought mutinously, and with a defiant toss of her head, she reached for Patrick's charcoal robe instead.
She walked out of his bedroom with her head held high, and he only raised an eyebrow at her choice before taking her clothes from her.
"Ought not take more than an hour for your clothes to dry, if this is all that's going in," he said, and she wondered if she imagined a slight huskiness to his voice as he spoke.
"Thank you," she said, and once he disappeared through the door, she glanced around the office.
The view from the belfry was gorgeous, and the city was slowly being wrapped up in the storm. The sky had turned the color of a deep violet bruise, and when the thunder struck, a shiver ran up her spine.
Well, you didn't know where you were going when you showed up in Dublin. Is this unexpected enough for you?
She shrugged deeper into Patrick's robe. It was thick and warm, and she wondered if it would be possible to get one like this for herself without spending several hundred dollars on it.
It wasn't just the fact that the robe was well-made, she admitted to herself. A part of its appeal was that it was Patrick's. She could smell his woodsy cologne in the fibers of the robe, and she imagined the thick, warm fabric caressing his bare skin just as it caressed hers now.
Her imagination wasn't quite good enough to think about how it would feel to be that close to him, but it was darned well going to give it a try. Natalie thought about when she had been so close to him before, thought about the hot press of his lips against hers before they had both thought better of it, and she shivered.
"You look like you want to keep that robe," Patrick observed from behind her.
The man moved like a cat. She barely stopped herself from yelping with surprise, and she turned to see him regarding her from the center of the room, his jacket slung over the back of the couch in the sunken seating area, and his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had undone his tie and lost that somewhere as well, and her eyes were inexorably drawn to the bared vee of bronzed flesh at his throat. She tore her eyes away with a jerk, and from the smile on his face, there was a chance that he knew exactly what she was thinking.
