by Shayne Ford
“I’d rather not talk to her right now,” she says, paler than the napkin.
I study her for a moment. She doesn’t shift her gaze to me.
“Okay then.”
I push up to my feet and start collecting the plates. She stands up as well, takes the dishes from my hands and starts washing them in the sink.
“I can’t give you a ride to your work. I only have one car.”
“It’s okay. My friend helps me with that,” she says, without turning to me.
“Friend?”
“Yeah. Tasha. She’s a dancer like me.”
“She’s the one who dropped you off tonight?”
Silence is restored as she turns off the faucet. She pats her hands dry and turns to me.
“Yeah, she did.”
She looks at me, and for a moment I feel younger than her. A long breath fills her lungs before she starts to talk again.
“I don’t want to create you any problems. I just want to have a place to stay until I figure stuff out,” she says.
A bad feeling creeps up on me.
I’m hot and cold, and then my stomach shrinks into a ball.
“Is it something bad?”
A soft smile curls her lips, sadness glinting in her eyes.
“It’s not bad, but...” she says and pauses. I wait for her to continue, breathless. “There’s more to it, but I can’t tell you right now. You’ll know when I find out more.”
With those words, she cuts her confession short.
I’m not gonna be able to pull out more from her, so I show her to the small bedroom in the back.
6
DAHLIA
It’s not even seven o’clock in the morning, and I find her in the kitchen. Clad in a pair of shorts and a cropped top, she drinks her coffee.
“Hey,” I say, my gaze sweeping the table.
“Eat something before you leave,” she says, all motherly.
She motions to the food she prepared for me.
I fill a plate with scrambled eggs and pour myself a cup of coffee. She never woke up early since I can remember. My mom always had to fight with her in the mornings.
“How’s this new job of yours?” she asks, running her gaze down my dress. “That looks nice,” she mutters, taking in the sleeveless tailored black dress.
“Thank you. Stressful.”
“What exactly are you doing?”
“Executive Assistant to some CEO.”
“Hmm. That’s a nice job.”
“It’s temporary. I’m hoping to land something permanent at the end of this trial period. What about you? Are you working today?”
She takes a sip of coffee and nods.
“Yes. Tasha will pick me up in the afternoon. I might not be home when you come back, just so you know,” she says.
I eat in silence for the next few minutes before I rise out of my chair.
“Leave it,” she says as I grab the plate and start to clean the table. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a spare key, by any chance?” she asks and pauses. “I’ll be late,” she says. “I don’t want to wake you up.”
“Okay.”
I hand her the key.
A half hour later I walk out the door.
The business meeting is set for ten o’clock. Lex Harrington enters my office ten minutes to nine.
“Morning,” he mutters as I raise my eyes.
A breath jams in my throat.
I swallow hard, somehow managing to push back my gasp. That doesn’t mean I can stop my eyes from wandering.
The man knows how to dress.
The silver blue tie makes his eyes spark like gemstones. His sandy blonde hair is all brushed back, only a couple of stray bangs brushing his cheekbones. His clean shaven skin glows.
My gaze slides down, sweeping his hard, broad chest that fills his crisp, white shirt perfectly. I make a note of the light gray pants and the way they fit him below his waist.
He’s tall and well cut. I can tell by the way his biceps push against the sleeves. A belt sets off his trimmed waist. He takes a couple of steps in my direction, sucking all the air in the room.
I’m fully aware my mouth is open, and yet I can’t close it or breathe much.
“Is the room ready?” he says.
I think a smile narrows his eyes.
He arches an eyebrow, and that’s enough to pull me out of my paralysis.
“Yes, Sir. Everything’s ready,” I say, jumping out of my chair and walking around my desk.
A moment later, I find myself standing in front of him. My eyes roam imprecisely on his face, dipping to his lips a few times.
A surge of heat rams through my blood. My heart starts spinning and jumping and flipping in my chest. It pounds so hard, the echo vibrates in my ears.
“Has everyone confirmed?” he asks.
The moment his lips move, my eyes do too, sweeping the plump flesh.
I’m mad at myself, more so since he doesn’t even do anything to lure me. The man barely acknowledges me. I rarely see him smiling, his eyes always bearing seven locks. At times, he feels deeper than a mountain lake and just as cold.
“Dahlia?”
My name rolls off his lips, his voice soft and warm, tinged with slight concern. Tingles shoot up my spine.
“Yes,” I murmur as if he’s not my boss, and I’m no longer his employee.
“Jefferson and his people. Have they confirmed?” he says, throwing me a lifeline.
“Yes, they have,” I answer, regaining my focus as I remove myself from under his spell.
Swiftly, I shift my eyes away from him and to my tablet.
“What about us? The lawyers?”
“They should be in any minute now,” I say, just as voices clamor outside. “Larry Wells, and his partner, Madison Campbell. A few others from their law firm.”
“Perfect,” he says, smoothly tearing away from me and heading to the door.
My heart trails on the floor as I watch him leave.
“Oh... One more thing,” he says, and spins around swiftly, taking me by surprise.
He almost catches me ogling his butt.
“Yes,” I hurriedly say, barely concealing my nerves.
I sound as if I swallowed a bug.
“If Edward Preston shows up...” he says and pauses, the ghost of a smile tracing his sinful lips.
“Please, um... Distract him for a few minutes. Keep him away from the conference room.”
He turns around to leave the room, and I leap forward.
“Sir?” I call him desperately.
A short stop puts me in front of him again. He has one hand on the doorknob, the door cracked open.
People walk up and down the hallway, glancing at us.
“How do I do that?” I ask quietly.
He smiles again, establishing a record for the day.
“Use your imagination, Miss Fox. I’m sure you know how to do that,” he says.
His gaze sweeps my entire body, and I feel the fingers of a blush all over my face.
Yeah... okay.
Is it me, or he’s flirting with me?
I slap the thought down. That’s not something to think about, not when I’m only minutes away from my first important business meeting.
He slips out.
The door shuts behind him, rattling my brain. For a brief moment, I can’t move my legs back to my desk.
Breathe Dahlia. Breathe...
It’s not as if you’ve never seen a man.
I spin around, grab my purse and walk into the bathroom. I really need a moment to calm down and figure out why I am so affected by him.
It’s the power, I muse as I lean forward and check my lashes in the mirror. This kind of power adds an aura to a man, I tell myself, deciding to go for another layer of mascara.
Or perhaps his eyes, another thought pops in as I carefully refresh my lipstick. That’s where his magnetism stems from.
Not to forget his body. That’s a frame with lots of muscles. Hard, chiseled, strong and flexible. A real man’s body.
But that’s not it.
There’s something else. Something buried inside him. I can sense, but I can’t see.
As blind as I am to the real him, he surely sees through me. And now I realize how stupid I must’ve sounded when I said I’d know everything about him.
I run my gaze over my face. Satisfied with the results of my inspection, I bring my hand to my ponytail. Dwelling. I can’t let myself be mystified by my boss. No matter how handsome he is. Or charming. Or broody.
It’s a no brainer.
I don’t want to lose my job and dignity, and in all fairness, I’m in no position to dream about a man like him. I’ll be gone from this office in a few weeks, and it wouldn’t serve me well if I gained a reputation. Aside from that, I’m clueless when it comes to men.
Any kind of men.
And perhaps this is the most important reason I have always shunned away from them, especially in college. That’s not to say I haven’t tried. I have. Like everybody else. It wasn’t love. And I wouldn’t file it under great sex either.
My friends always assumed that just because I was fairly good looking and had a lot of boys interested in me, I was some kind of vixen.
The sad reality?
I wasn’t.
I was shy, and still am. My shyness drove them crazy, and a lot of those boys thought that I was playing hard to get, when in fact I was just scared and socially challenged when it came to mating.
It was more like running away from them, at the same time liking them, but not being able to bring my guard down and allow myself to enjoy them. In retrospect, it served me well, and it kept me away from a lot of trouble.
It also kept me lonely.
By the time I hit college, I had a lot of experience with attracting men, and none when it comes to connecting with them.
The second year of college, one night at a party, I rationally made the decision to lose my V-card to some good looking fellow who had a reputation for knowing how to handle a woman in bed.
He didn’t disappoint, except he couldn't make me feel a damn thing. It wasn’t his fault. I knew it even then. There were no emotions between us, and while it worked perfectly well for him, it killed everything for me.
To say I was out of my body while he was having his way with me is an accurate statement.
A few more attempts after that event put me on the skeptics’ bench for good.
At one point it crossed my mind that something must’ve been wrong with my body, but I dispelled that theory quickly since I never had a problem to get hot over some naughty thought.
It was the reality that didn’t do much for me as my mom used to say, when I found her stash of romance books–– well after my dad was long gone.
My eyes peeled wide at the shirtless men gracing the covers. I asked her why do they have to look like that?
Muscular and strong, broody eyes, and sinful lips. Because the reality is dire, she said to me.
We laughed. But it’s no laughing matter.
I smile for a moment, and then sadness pours over me. I wish Elsa had been there with us. It would've been easier for her, and us.
My focus shifts back to the mirror as I slide the ponytail holder off my hair.
I shake my head a few times, the curtain of hair rearranging freely on my shoulders. It makes me look completely different and totally inappropriate for an office.
I pull it all back, making sure no strand of hair strays away. The mirror makes me look paler, or maybe I am. Grappling with jitters, I take a few long breaths and tear away.
Today is Friday. The weekend is almost here. Things will be all right.
With that positive thought in my mind, I swing the office door open and walk outside.
LEX
“Everything is ready for you,” Dahlia says from the doorway.
“Leave the door open,” I mutter, locking her eyes briefly.
A blush spreads over her cheeks. She nods, having a hard time tearing her gaze away from me as she walks away.
I shift my eyes back to my phone.
Across the hallway, people chat over refreshments.
Half of the conference room is filled with lawyers. Madison Campbell’s legs look longer or perhaps her skirt is shorter.
She runs her hand through her hair and sends me a loaded glance. I dip my gaze to my phone again. I can’t deal with a flirting lawyer right now.
Randy Jefferson and his entourage arrive on time. I push out of my chair and stride to the room full of people. The meeting starts as planned.
For a half hour or so we review the information, negotiate the rates and terms, and as we head into the second hour, we practically have a deal.
People split into groups, and start working on the details.
Close to noon, the door cracks open, and Ed’s silhouette fills the doorway. It takes a second to catch Jefferson’s gaze swinging in Ed’s direction.
The man’s eyes darken, and his jaw tenses, confirming my suspicion.
I shift my eyes to Dahlia.
Smoothly, she pushes up to her feet and heads for the door. Ed’s smile broadens as he takes her in. She nudges him to the corridor and pulls the door shut.
Jefferson breaks his stare and shifts his eyes back to his team.
Didn’t I fucking say?
It’s almost twelve thirty when we shake hands and seal the deal. Dahlia directs everybody in a different room for a complimentary business lunch.
As people clear the space, I grab her by the elbow and push her to the side.
She looks at me, breathless.
“Where is he?”
“In my office.”
“Doing?”
“He’s on the phone.”
“Talking?”
A smile and a blush slide onto her face.
“I think he’s chatting with someone.”
“Does he know why you pulled him out?”
She nods.
“He says he does.”
“Do you?” I throw at her.
She blushes to her hairline.
“No... I don’t...” she murmurs, losing her composure. “Am I supposed to know?”
Smiling, I shake my head. A soft grin curves her lips as her panic dies out.
“You’re in a good mood,” she says, her cheeks flushed.
“Yes, I am. I have all the reasons. Great job, by the way,” I say.
Her eyes light up as she quickly starts to melt under my gaze. For a moment, I relish the soft quiver of her lips as she grapples with emotions.
Perhaps I was wrong about her. She does have a sharp mind, and she’s definitely a quick learner. Her inability to deal with her emotions has no impact on her work and doesn’t bother me.
Quite the opposite. Especially when it comes to me.
“Okay. You can go now,” I say, tearing my fingers off her arm, and letting her breathe again. “Keep him occupied a little longer, and I’ll be there shortly to collect him,” I say, and she spins away.
Ed sends me a text thirty minutes later. The business lunch draws to an end when I get a glimpse of him heading for the exit.
I text him back.
Me: We were lucky this time.
Ed: I didn’t fucking know.
Me: Now you do. Go the old route. When you pay, you know what you get.
Ed: His wife is in love with me, he replies, and I don’t need an emoji to sense the mockery in his words.
Me: And I’m in love with my new line of credit. Don’t fuck with me.
He sends me a smiley face, and I let out a sigh of relief. I’m so fucking ready to unwind.
7
DAHLIA
I pull the blinds open.The afternoon light rolls into the room as I sink into my chair.
Slowly but surely, people migrate toward the exit. Reports wait on my desk. As much as I want to focus solely on them, my eyes fly to the
corridor every time I hear a voice or laughter or the echo of dialogue.
Across from my office, Alexander Harrington shakes hands with the bankers before he joins Larry Wells and his team, and walks them to a different room.
The hallway is quiet again.
I start inputting the numbers into my computer, my mind struggling to stay focused. Half of my brain is centered on my work as the other half runs a carousel of images and sounds all featuring him.
My boss.
You’re so fucked, Dahlia Fox.
Not only that I tease myself into exhaustion, but if he figures out I’m smitten with him, he might reprimand me.
Mmm... That’s a nice thought.
Not helping my cause a bit, I start daydreaming, more images popping in my head. I can imagine a variety of ways in which I’d love to be ‘reprimanded’ by him. Most of them involve blindfolds, my wrists restrained in his fist and his hard body on top of mine.
A warm sensation builds between my legs.
Just when I start to fan my face, my eyes get drawn across the corridor again, the man cast in my dreams filling my sight.
I push back a gasp, my gaze landing straight on him.
Is he or is he not... looking in my direction?
Standing, he talks to someone I can’t see. He is slightly turned toward that person, and I can only get a glimpse of his profile.
I let my eyes run down on him, my gaze brushing the line of his shoulders and the smooth tapering of his torso to the most enticing hips I’ve ever seen.
His pants cling to his butt in the most delicious way, so much so that I find myself gawking.
My heart pounds frantically as I play this game for a few more moments and just as I lose hope, he tilts his head in my direction, and tosses me a glance, locking my eyes.
It’s too late to pretend I’m not looking at him, or drooling for that matter, so I raise my hand and wave at him as if we’re in the kindergarten.
Not the slightest reaction shows on his face. He tears his eyes away from me without acknowledging me in any way before he walks into the room.
I suddenly feel hollow.
Shit.
That might’ve pissed him off. Besides, it was totally inappropriate. The door across the hallway swings open again, and my heart flips in my chest.
