Her Secret

by Bloom, Penelope

  “How would you phrase it, exactly?”

  “You’re a pain in my ass and I had to make accommodations to fit you.”

  “Well, you managed to make the stick fit in there. I’m sure you’ll find a way.” I put my hand to my mouth. Jesus. I was crossing all kinds of lines, but the way he talked to me brought something feisty up from deep inside me. I just wanted to show him. I didn’t know what, but I wanted him to be put in his place so badly it hurt.

  “I have work to do.” His tone told me I was right. I’d crossed a line, and he was verbally dismissing me.

  I looked at my desk, which didn’t have a computer or any kind of supplies. I didn’t know what he expected me to do, so I took a closer look around the room. At first glance, it had looked like absolute, disorganized chaos. I could see that wasn’t exactly true when I looked harder. I tried not to move anything around at first, and from what I could see, he had a variety of documents. I couldn’t quite figure out why some were laminated and others weren’t, other than the obvious guess that they were more important in some way. I also wasn’t sure why he didn’t bother at least using a three-hole punch and sticking them in a binder. As they were, it looked like a mild breeze could topple his world of information into a complete mess.

  After about ten minutes, I had a mental image of how I could help clear some space. Even if I was only going to be trapped in his office for a day, I could at least make the space less claustrophobic.

  I opened the door, which made his head snap up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get something,” I said.

  He looked like he wanted to say some smart-ass comment back to me, but either lacked the inspiration or the energy. He settled for a long, annoyed sigh before he slid his reading glasses back on and looked back to his computer.

  I asked around the office for what I needed and introduced myself as I went. Within a couple minutes, I thought I had a pretty good pulse on the office. Most of the people who worked for Peter were friends, and the atmosphere was relaxed. However, when Peter stormed out of his office to get a coffee in the middle of my search, I saw the effect he had on everyone. Backs straightened, conversations died, and everyone seemed determined to look extremely busy. They were afraid of him, and while I couldn’t blame them, I silently swore I wouldn’t let him do that to me.

  I returned to his office with a pair of binders and a three-hole punch. He looked at me like I was carrying a loaded gun, and when I took a laminated page from the top of one of his stacks, he jolted to his feet.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “I was going to clear some space. I can barely breathe in here.”

  He reached across his desk and snatched the three hole punch from my hand and then took the page from me before carefully placing it back on the top of the pile. “I know where everything is, and I’m perfectly happy with the state of my office.”

  “If you’re not going to let me clear some breathing room, is there at least a computer I can use? Or maybe someone who can familiarize me with your catalog and upcoming projects so I can start brainstorming some ads?”

  “Ask Ansley. She just finished a round of edits and might have some spare time to babysit you.”

  I bit back my response to that, deciding instead to be grateful for an excuse to get out of the room and away from his oppressive aura.

  Ansley was in her mid-twenties, or maybe a little younger, and I found her working in the corner by an impressive view of the city, as well as a little corner of Central Park that was visible. After we exchanged introductions, she frowned.

  “I’m just not sure why he sent you to me. Derrick is the advertising guy. I mean, we do most of the ad stuff out of house through this big agency, but Derrick is our in-house guy who feeds them the material and helps plan strategy.”

  “Oh, wow. That sounds perfect. Where can I find him?”

  She pointed to a man who was standing a few desks over. A very attractive man.

  I walked over, feeling a slight rush of nervousness. Derrick looked athletic and handsome, but not in an intimidating way like with Peter. He smiled when he saw me coming. He even had dimples. Of course he had dimples.

  “Hey,” I said. I tried to plant my elbow on the edge of his desk in a casual sort of lean, missed, and ended up just tilting sideways and having to quickly windmill my arms to rebalance.

  Derrick reached out to steady me with a firm grip on my shoulder. “Easy there.” He laughed, but not in a cruel way. I felt included in the joke, and his easy-going personality was a breath of fresh air after being nearly suffocated in Peter’s office.

  “Ansley said you’re kind of the advertising guy. I’ll be—-”

  “Browning,” Peter shouted. To say he shouted wasn’t hyperbole, either. He literally shouted my name loud enough that I could feel his baritone rumble through my chest, like it was a warcry before he charged into a battle he knew would be his last.

  I felt the entire office stiffen around me. When I turned, I saw Peter was hanging out of his office door.

  “In my office. Now,” he added when I didn’t immediately move.

  “Sorry,” I whispered to Derrick.

  As I walked to Peter’s office and suffered the curious stares of everyone in the office, I gave my first real thought to quitting. I’d do anything for Zoey, but I also wouldn’t suffer through a job that made me miserable.

  She didn’t just need my financial support. She needed me to be me, and if Peter was going to try to tear that down, he could go fuck himself.

  4

  Peter

  When Violet came back in my office, she slammed the door behind her. I felt like slamming something too. Maybe slamming her against the wall and putting my lips against hers. Maybe that would teach her not to flirt with someone while she was on the clock for me.

  I shook my head. I could hardly believe myself. I swore I was done with dating after Kristen. I’d seen what the world of relationships had to offer, but it wasn’t for me, thankyouverymuch. Opening yourself up to someone meant you were giving them all the tools they needed to screw you over, and that’s exactly what they’d do if you gave them enough time. Yet, I couldn’t seem to stop letting wild, dirty ideas about Violet spring to the front of my thoughts.

  “You’re trying to make me quit. Is that it?” she asked. She was breathless and her cheeks were red. She gestured back toward the office where I’d caught her standing across from Derrick with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Embarrassing me in front of everyone on my first day? Like shoving me in an empty desk in the corner of your office wasn’t bad enough?”

  One look and something inside me had snapped. I didn’t want him anywhere near her. That was the whole reason I sent her to Ansley to have her questions answered. No one would ever admit as much to me, but I knew Derrick had fucked his way through half of the women on my staff—-the attractive ones, at least. Sending Violet to his desk would’ve been like tossing fresh meat to a lion. He was smooth enough at first, but he used them like playthings. Once he had his fill, he tossed them away, broken hearts and all.

  Except that shouldn’t have mattered to me. I wanted the woman out of my life, but the idea of him putting his hands on her also made my blood want to boil.

  “Well?” she asked. Her arms were crossed, which had the unfortunate effect of drawing my eyes to her chest.

  “Well, I asked you to speak with Ansley, not Derrick.”

  “Ansley said Derrick was the one who handled marketing.”

  I had no valid response. I’d felt an irrational jealous rage at the sight of them, and it had been the only reason I dragged her back in here. I wasn’t about to admit any of that, so I decided to dig the hole deeper and solidify her belief that I was a total ass. “And I told you to speak to Ansley. As your boss, I expect you to do as I say. Is that clear?”

  If the look was any indication, she was wondering which objects in the room could double as lethal weapons, and I wasn�
��t sure I blamed her.

  I sat back at my desk and sighed. This had been a huge mistake, and I wasn’t sure how it was going to end, but I had a gut feeling I wasn’t going to like it. “Well?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Violet said. “That’s perfectly clear.”

  I was surprised to find I wanted her to snap back with some sarcastic remark. Instead, she just stood there and took my anger, which made me feel like shit. I let out a sigh. I guessed I could at least apologize. But just as I opened my mouth to choke out some version of "sorry," she put her hand on the door.

  “Can I get back to work?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

  Once the door closed, I raked my fingers through my hair and groaned in frustration. I’d had no trouble being an unrelenting asshole for the past two years. Why did it suddenly feel like this woman was going to make it a challenge?

  Bruce Chamberson was a good friend of mine. I'd met him because one of my ex-girlfriend's had worked with him years back. He and I were similar in a lot of ways, despite some glaring differences. Still, it was enough that we had gotten along pretty easily, which was more than I could say for Bruce's twin brother, William, who rubbed me in every wrong way imaginable.

  I leaned back on the sofa in my apartment while Bruce made himself some kind of banana smoothie in my kitchen. He was around my height with a similar build, and had he not settled down and married Hailey, I knew women would still be knocking down his door.

  “You seem distracted,” he said as he came to sit across from me with the yellow-tinted smoothie in his hand.

  “It’s nothing.”

  Bruce chuckled. I grinned a little when I saw him nudge a stack of papers to the corner of my table so their edges lined up perfectly with the pattern in the wood. Before Hailey, Bruce had been borderline obsessive-compulsive. I wasn’t sure if a doctor would’ve given him an official diagnosis, but I did know he had to check the locks, stove, and even the windows every time before he left his apartment. He had a banana at exactly the same time of day, and the banana had to meet his specific, demanding standards. He was always immaculately clean and well-groomed. His life was dominated by patterns and precautions.

  Almost all of that was the same, even after Hailey, but what had changed was his tolerance for chaos. Before her, he refused to come to my place. The sight of my unique style of organization had nearly given him a panic attack. Now, he’d found ways to cope, and I think he even enjoyed the mental challenge of coming here. Given his situation, he was the one person I actually let move my things around. Of course, I moved them all back to where they had been once he was gone, but still, it seemed like the friendly thing to do.

  Despite what Violet may think, I wasn’t an asshole. I just acted like one.

  “What?” Bruce asked.

  I realized I’d chuckled aloud at my own thought. “You ever feel you’re not who you think you are?”

  Bruce squinted. “Philosophy? Since when did you become so introspective.”

  I took a sip of the whiskey I’d poured myself. I’d needed something strong after Violet’s first day, and I could already feel the edge start to melt away. I shook my head. “Forget it.”

  Bruce set his drink down and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “It’s a woman.”

  “Not like you’d think.”

  “What, does she have a penis?”

  I laughed. “No. I mean, I haven’t checked, but no. I seriously doubt it.”

  “Then what’s the problem. You’re single. You have no obligations. No kids. Either you’re interested in her, or you aren’t.”

  “Okay. Since you’re apparently a love expert, what do I do if my cock is interested and every other atom in my body wants nothing to do with her?”

  “You avoid her, because your cock will move on faster than your heart will.”

  “That’s touching. Did you read that on a Hallmark card?”

  Bruce smirked. “I’m not wrong.”

  “Maybe. But I can’t exactly avoid her. I hired her yesterday. I also offered her three times what she should be earning with her experience, so I’m guessing she’s not too likely to quit.”

  Bruce barked a laugh. “You said your cock was interested. You didn’t say it had fallen deeply and madly in love with her.”

  I gave him a sour look. “As usual, you’ve been no help.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not going to pretend I understand love, but I can tell you the first time I met Hailey, I wasn’t exactly ready to compose a sonnet.”

  “I remember the story. She ate your precious banana, right?”

  “And my mind went exactly to innuendo. Yeah. I hated her, but I wanted to bend her over and slap her ass so hard she’d think of me every time she sat down for weeks.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I married her.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” I said. “I mean what did you do about the part where you hated her?”

  “I got to know her. Then I got to know myself.”

  I leaned back and sighed. It was all well and good that Bruce had ended up falling for Hailey. But the problem I didn’t feel like voicing was that I didn’t want to fall for a woman. I just wanted to find out how to get myself out of the hole I’d dug myself.

  Bruce was watching me with a serious expression. “I think I know what’s going through your head. And yes, nobody will ever do what Kristen did to you if you push everyone away for the rest of your life. You’ll be safe. And you’ll also be depressed and alone.”

  “It’s not about that.” It was. “And I’m perfectly happy being alone.” My cock stirred, as if in disagreement. Thankfully, I didn’t let my cock run my life. I could lust after Violet all I wanted. Those feelings were irrelevant. My work came first. I’d get her desk out of my office before she showed up tomorrow, and I’d pass her off onto someone else. It’d be that easy.

  As long as Derrick kept his distance, at least.

  5

  Violet

  “Brush up on the ball!” I said.

  I was standing across from Zoey on a tennis court covered by leaves. It was so early that I was worried child protective services might come after me if they saw us. But Zoey had been the one to wake me at three in the morning. She had jumped on my bed and begged me to take her out to practice before work. Of course, being the iron-willed mother I was, I’d agreed to her ridiculous plan.

  So there we were. Even the birds weren’t crazy enough to be awake yet and my Zoey was whacking around a depressurized ball with a flimsy, cheap racquet I’d picked up at a garage sale.

  Zoey was one of the most intense people I’d ever met, and I didn’t just think that because she was my daughter. She didn’t really do anything part-way. She was either laughing as hard as she could, crying as hard as she could, or goofing around as hard as she could.

  Right now, every ounce of her intensity was laser-focused on hitting the ball as hard as she could. Her little face was scrunched up into a mask of ferocity that was almost scary.

  I tossed a ball toward her so that it bounced once before it reached her. She wound up, coiling her body like I’d learned in the videos, and then attacked the ball with her racquet. I had to duck to dodge as the ball came zipping straight for my face.

  “Wow. That was great!”

  Zoey dropped her racquet and did a double fist pump in celebration. She proceeded to run around the court while talking in a deep, growling voice to herself about how she was a tennis superhero.

  I was grinning as I jogged to retrieve the ball. We didn’t exactly have the budget for a giant basket of balls like tennis coaches had, but at least I was getting some exercise. It was also a small way to vent some of my frustrations from yesterday.

  I'd known working for Peter Barnidge wasn't going to be easy. But my first day had felt like a full frontal assault of cringe-worthy acts of awkwardness on my behalf and blood-boiling acts of utter assholery on his. By the time I'd made it back home with Zoey, I jus
t wanted to collapse.

  I noticed Zoey just in time to see her running full speed toward the net. There was a glint of determination in her eyes that I knew unfortunately well. My instincts kicked in. I sprinted toward her as fast as I could. She was going to try to jump over the net, which was a few inches taller than she was.

  My arms pumped and my legs shot out like pistons, moving me faster than I thought I’d ever moved before. For a brief, momentary sliver of time, I was a total badass. I was the epitome of the mama bear. I was dashing to the rescue of my child, prepared to risk life and limb to save her from a nasty fall.

  And then I was upside down while floating through the air. I caught a glimpse of Zoey’s little racquet sliding out from beneath my foot as I flipped over and landed hard on my ankle.

  Zoey stopped in front of the dragonfly I hadn’t seen to kneel down and inspect it. She only looked up when I groaned in pain.

  “You got a boo-boo, mommy? Here, I can fix it.” She hopped over to me, reached behind her back, and pulled an imaginary bandaid from her imaginary medical pack. Then she slapped it on my boob.

  “Thank you, baby,” I said through clenched teeth. I either had a broken ankle or a shattered ego, but I wasn’t ruling both out as a possibility. “Any chance you want to drive mommy to the hospital so she doesn’t have to pay a gazillion dollars for an ambulance?”

  “A gazillion dollars?” Zoey thought about that, then her eyes lit up. She reached behind her back and extended her small hand toward me. “Here you go.”

  After about three hours and a hundred apologies to my mom for waking her up so early, I was in a hospital bed with a boot on my foot. My mom had taken Zoey back to her apartment, but I still had a small-scale heart attack when the nurse told me a man named Peter said he was here to see me.

  I wasn’t proud of it, but I did a quick fluffing of my hair and rubbing away of any residual tear tracks that might be running down my cheeks. Yes, I cried, and no, the ankle hadn’t been broken. In my defense, the doctor told me sprains were usually more painful than breaks, so I felt a little better about the brief period where I’d cried. Besides, they were tough cries. I barely whimpered, and my chin didn’t do that undignified inward folding thing that came with a really ugly cry.