by S. M. Maddox
“I don’t know what to say, Roland.”
“Say ‘Thank you, Mr. Andersen.’ Then get the fuck out of my car and into your own.” His smile and his voice said he was teasing me, mocking me for wanting to be treated like everyone else. His eyes said more.
I grinned, “Thank you, Mr. Andersen.”
Two weeks in, Roland walked into my cubicle without warning and threw down a stack of Benjamin’s.
“What’s this?”
“Consider it a sign-on bonus.”
$500. The amount of my one-perfect-night stand money.
The next three weeks I did not take lunch breaks and I stayed over every evening. I worked ten to twelve-hour days, and I avoided him like the plague. I lost about five pounds because I was running solely on caffeine and dreams, but I had to prove that I was a worthy ally. I knew I needed to build a credible case first, to make myself unquestionably worthy of his trust.
Chapter Twelve
Roland
“Mike called me yesterday. He’s worried about you. He said you’ve only been to the club once or twice this month, and that was just to check the books. Are you ok?” Thor looked at me questioningly. Not so long ago, Magnus and I had been worried about Baby Brother’s sanity.
“Mike needs to mind his own business. I’m fine.”
“Are you though? I mean honestly Ro, Anya’s super emotional about everything. I can’t do anything without hurting her feelings. Just yesterday, I put the wrong kind of cheese on her sandwich and she accused me of trying to starve her to death. It took me thirty minutes to calm her back down.
“Plus, we’re trying to get moved into the house before her water pops, and I’d really just like to take a nap because I’m so fucking exhausted. I don’t need somebody or something else to worry about right now. Cut the shit and talk to me.”
“Remember last year when the news anchor was left for dead? Did anybody ever find out the story behind that? I know the papers glossed over the mafia story, but was that really it? Or was it something more?”
“You mean the sexy-as-fuck news anchor who’s sitting in your breakroom drinking coffee right now? That’s what’s wrong with you? Roland Andersen has been brought down by a woman?” Thor drug out the last three words, trying to slice my pride. “Are you fucking her every day at lunch now? Is that why Tina’s been in such a pissy mood lately?”
“No. I’m not fucking my employees anymore.”
Thor was quick to read through my bullshit. The only people who could read me like a book were my two brothers, and vice versa. There’s seven years between us, but we may as well have come out as triplets.
“But you were. You did. And then you cut Tina off cold turkey for Foxy Malone out there because you’ve got a raging boner for her that won’t go away. How close am I?”
I took a deep breath and rubbed my eyes. He was starting to give me a headache and I didn’t like my shit being pointed out to me.
“Fucking hell, are you in love with her?”
“No, I’m not in love with her. I can’t figure her out and it’s pissing me the fuck off. I’ll ask you again, what do you remember? Do you know anyone in Hartford that might’ve been close to the story?”
“Do I look like the owner of CNN to you? Why would I know anyone close to the story?”
“I’m just brainstorming. The pieces of the puzzle don’t fit and I don’t like being blindsided. She won’t talk to me about it. I think I might hire a P.I. I can’t very well get one of my people to look into one of their own co-workers, that’s how people start talking and she needs to be in a safe environment. That much I know.”
“Holy hell, RoBro. You are in deep.”
“Am not.”
“Oh, yes. You are. When in your entire life have you been upset that a woman wouldn’t talk to you about her problems? Do you even know how to have a conversation with a woman? Have you ever had a conversation with a woman? Mom doesn’t count.”
I continued massaging my scalp, trying to not give myself a migraine.
“Look, give her some time. Women eat that shit up when you’re all sensitive and caring.”
Chapter Thirteen
Jessie
“Do you have the notes on the Jenkins case?” Brenda popped her head around the corner.
“I’m almost through. I’ll have them first thing Monday morning.”
“Alright, dear. Take care and have a good night. Don’t forget next week is casual week! All week!” Brenda did a little wiggle dance before she left. If there was one thing that got our office excited, it was wearing blue jeans and tennis shoes into work.
I tidied up my desk and turned my lamp off. I sat there in the dark for a few minutes, listening to the stillness around me. Waiting to hear signs of anyone, from anywhere, on our floor. Silence greeted me in return. I stood up and walked to the time clock to punch out. I was on my time now.
I gathered my file and made my way into the conference room. The bright white lights flickered on as the long cherry wood table stretched out in front of me. I loved this table, it was probably my favorite thing in the whole office. Whoever had stained it had picked the most beautiful color. It was a deep dark red, like juice from fresh cherries.
In the daylight it looked black against the natural light from the windows, large and menacing. At night under the white LED bulbs, when no one was around, its true beauty came out for only those looking for it. I took my heels off, feeling the carpet beneath my toes as I fanned all of my evidence out.
I read and reread each paper, each report, trying to find the clues that linked each one together. I knew it was somewhere, some little piece that I just hadn’t seen or was just looking at over and over in the wrong light.
I’d been in the conference room when I felt chills on my neck. Someone was watching me. Someone knew what I was doing. I’d forgotten to lower the blinds on the windows, like an idiot. I slowly crept up to the first floor-length window and lowered the blinds. Then I continued lowering each consecutive one while using the previous as a shield to conceal my identity. By the time I got to the end, the blood was pulsing through my head so loud I wasn’t entirely sure if a blood clot or a heart attack was happening.
20, 19, 18…
I braced my hands on the walls and leaned forward, hanging my head down.
10, 9, 8…
I slowly stood up and listened. Nothing. No gun shots, no elevator doors ominously dinging, no footsteps. I took another deep breath before turning around. Squeezing my temples to try and alleviate the stress, I didn’t notice someone was standing at the doorway.
Roland cleared his throat, and I jumped, startled at the noise slicing through the silence. He was only a few feet away from me. His jacket was off, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and rolled up to his elbows.
“How long have you been standing there?” I barked at him.
“Long enough to know you haven’t been on the clock for the last two hours. Which is illegal.”
“You watched me for two hours?! Are you a fucking serial killer?” I yelled at him as I ran. A rage came over me and I lost all control. I attacked him, slapping his face and punching his rock-hard chest. He braced for me, his huge arms wrapping around my thin, swinging ones to try and tie me down. Roland pushed me hard up against the wall, his chest pinning mine while his hands grabbed my wrists and held them up above my head. I tried to kick him but he moved his thighs to press against mine, rendering me completely motionless.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“What the fuck are you doing, Malone? This is my office. My business. I do whatever the fuck I please.”
“Oh, I bet you feel like a real powerful man, huh? Does that make you hard?” He was, in fact, extremely hard. I couldn’t help but notice, given the precarious situation he’d placed me in.
We were both breathing hard, our chests rising against each other. He stared me down deviously, and didn’t break eye contact as h
e lowered his head. My gaze followed him until his tongue came out, and licked a pathway between my cleavage, all the way up to my collar bone.
From there, he trailed light kisses from my collar bone to my ear before whispering, “What are you doing, Malone?”
“I.. ahhh..” I twisted my right calf around his, freeing my leg from beneath him. I slowly inched it up his thigh, hooking myself around his waist as he throbbed closer to me. He continued to kiss my neck as I grinded on him as best I could.
“You like it a little rough don’t you, Malone?” He growled into my hair, panting harder and harder as I swiveled my hips around as best I could. My stomach started to clench from the excitement roaring inside of me.
“Now let me show you how I like it.” He let go of my hands and pulled my dress up to my hips. In one quick motion, he flipped me around so I was palms against the wall as he angled me just right.
Thrust after thrust, he filled me and stretched me. My hands gripped the wall helplessly, trying to gain control of the situation as he repeatedly pounded into my g-spot. Stars shot behind my eyes over and over as he rode me harder. He held my hips in place so that I couldn’t move. I was his for the taking. I screamed into my fist, a raspy, throaty approval of his actions. He collapsed against me, coming just a split second before I did. He held me there against the wall as we both struggled to catch our breath.
When I had sufficiently recovered, I faced him and pulled the concealed hair pin knife out of my bun. My hair unrolled, spilling down to my shoulders as I sized him up. I held it up to his throat, his expression wild and primitive.
“You have no idea how rough I like it. Is that all you got, Andersen?”
I forced him further into the conference room, against the opposite end cherry table that didn’t have my files all over it. “Drop ‘em. Shirt too. Leave the tie on,” I motioned with the knife.
He eagerly stripped off his clothes. “By the way, I turned the cameras off in here. I wasn’t planning, but I’m always hoping.” We grinned at each other simultaneously, knowing how well we understood the other’s desires.
“Did I say you could fucking talk?” I said as I pushed him down on the table with all the strength I had. He landed with a hard thump, and I smiled at how strong it made me sound. I wrapped my fist around his tie like a leash, pinning his neck to the table as I climbed on top to straddle him. Without my thigh-high boots on to limit my movements, being on top was much easier. Scenes in movies aren’t always what they appear.
My fist pulled tighter, straining the tie around his neck. His veins popped out at me, crying for help, and I slacked up just a tad.
“Damn, girl,” Roland smiled as he placed his hands behind his head like a good boy.
“Tonight, I want your hands all over me.” I ran my hands up and down his beautiful abs, his pecks, his biceps, every single inch of his chiseled torso.
“Gonna need air for that, Malone.”
I lowered myself inch by inch as he moaned and rubbed my thighs. Roland grabbed my ass and scooted me forward, hitting a different spot for me and I cried out at the instant pleasure. I started to rock up and down on top of him as he pumped his hips into me.
Each thrust sent a powerful wave of emotion and electrical currents throughout my body. We made eye contact, ferocious and savage sounds rising from the depths of our souls as we moved together. Roland reached around to my scar, tracing the angry pink line with his thumb. It was still sensitive, and I felt myself cringe. But I leaned into his touch.
This is me, this is who I am. I’m fragile, I’m sensitive, and I’m furious. I’m passionate, I’m intelligent, and I’m broken. I’m scared, I’m a warrior, and I’m a survivor. I don’t let people in, I don’t trust anymore. You need to understand how privileged you are. You’ve got a front row seat to the shit show that is my life.
That’s what I wanted to say as he traced my scar roughly. I hissed at his touch, feeling the nerves beneath the cut stab me like needles. He raised up into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the table with me still straddling his lap.
Roland pulled me closer, as if it were possible to be any closer to him in this moment. With one hand bracing my back for support, his other hand came up to caress my face. He lightly stroked my cheek, brushing the hair away. Then, gently and forcefully, his hand went behind my head and his lips found mine. The stubble from his chin scratched me, but I loved it. I loved the pain and the sensation of being safe in his arms. I wrapped my arms tighter around his neck, crushing my breasts against him as I opened wider, letting him in into my depths. Our bodies started trembling against each other, shattering all the walls the both of us had built up.
In that moment, I knew we were equals now, no matter what else happened.
Chapter Fourteen
Jessie
“Don’t you need to check on Oliver?” Roland asked, sitting beside me. We had both redressed quietly, understanding that everything had changed between us. Now we were sitting on the cherry table, swinging our legs back and forth and staring at the ground like children who were in trouble and didn’t know what to do.
“Otis has a pee pad and an automatic water bowl. He knows I stay late sometimes, so he should be fine.”
“Can we talk now?”
“Talk about what?”
“Well, for starters since you brought it up, staying late outside business hours.”
“I mean, I don’t stay this late every night, and I’m off the clock so it’s fine.”
“Actually it’s not ‘fine.’ It’s illegal. You’re under my roof, on my property using my time and resources to do what exactly? Is this for one of my cases?”
“I think we’ve passed the point of legalities, Roland. Honestly.”
“You’ve worked an average of 75 hours overtime the last four weeks. And that’s not even counting the Saturdays you’ve come in and stayed about eight hours each. So that makes it, in total, 27 extra hours a week, give or take.” Oh damn, what? He was throwing numbers at me fast.
“I, wait,” I stammered, trying to regain my footing. “How do you know that? I wasn’t on the clock that whole time! I wasn’t trying to milk you.”
“I keep records of everything, Jessie. My security keeps records of everything. There is nothing that goes on inside any of my buildings that I don’t know about. Nothing. You clocked in 50 hours, but you actually worked about 77 each week on average. Those other 27 hours are only accounted for in security records, so what are you doing? No bullshit this time.”
I looked at my watch. 8:45 p.m.
“I need to go home and check on Otis.”
“I thought you said he was fine?”
“I didn’t realize how late it was, I’m usually home by 7:30 at the latest. I’ll see you Monday.” I hopped down off the table, and ran to the other end to gather up all my papers before Roland could see them. I knew I’d have to tell him at some point, it was inevitable, but right now I just wanted to think about how good he’d felt.
“Not so fast, Malone.” His tone was dark, demanding. I stopped and turned to him. “Do you like Italian?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t.” It was a statement, not a question.
“You get whatever this shit is together,” he waved his hand around in the general direction of the pile, “and I’ll stop and get us some dinner and meet you at your house in thirty. Deal?”
“No deal.”
“You’re not coming here tomorrow. You’re taking the whole weekend off. Security has orders not to let you into the building on the weekends anymore unless I approve it.”
“What? You can’t do that! It’s my time!”
“We just went over this, Malone. I can do that. I will do that. I am doing that. If you’re on my property and in my building, you’re on my time. Period. End of story. If you won’t talk to me willingly, I’ll squeeze it out of you.” Strong-arming bastard.
“You’re an asshole. It’s none of your business how I spend my free time
.”
“That’s what you wanted, Malone. You wanted me to be an asshole to you, and oh baby, I’ll be one and enjoy it the whole time. If you’re lucky, I might even lick and nibble on your sweet ass in the process. If you beg on your knees, of course,” he smirked, sending chills down my spine. “Whatever it is that you’re doing, you made it my business when you used my resources.”
I crossed my arms and stomped my foot like a toddler. I was speechless, and the only card I had left was to act like a spoiled brat. Which Roland saw right through.
“That’s what I thought. We’re going to talk about it, all the ugly bits and the even uglier bits, because frankly, I’ve had a migraine since I met you. I’ll see you in thirty. Do you like marinara or alfredo?”
I turned my head back down to the table to resume picking up my papers. “Alfredo,” I muttered under my breath. “And probably tiramisu.”
Roland smacked my ass as he walked out of the room, “That’s my girl.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jessie
When I opened the door to my house, a pile of dog vomit greeted me. Otis was sitting beside it, slowly wagging his tale like, “Yay! Mom’s home! But also, I’m sorry.”
“Hey buddy, did you have a stomach ache today?” He hung his head down slightly. “That’s ok. Sometimes my tummy hurts, too. We gotta clean it up quick, though, because we’re having company tonight. Do you remember the guy you saw at the park the other day? He’s bringing us some dinner.”
Otis’ head snapped up at his favorite word, ‘dinner,’ and his tail thumped heavily on the hard wood floor.
No sooner had I gotten everything cleaned up and sanitized than my doorbell rang. Even though I knew Roland had specifically come here because he needed, and deserved, answers, I couldn’t help but think about our previous meeting not even an hour ago and how much I wanted more of that instead of talking.
