by Shayne Ford
“No, it can’t be,” I say, trying to sound confident. Instead, I come off tense. “I can’t imagine him setting his eyes on a woman and not being able to have her.”
“What if he can’t have her?”
“What do you mean?” I ask quietly.
She shrugs again.
“Maybe he lost her... Or maybe for some reason, it can never happen. Not in the way he wants it anyway.”
The room feels suddenly cold.
“I guess we’d never know,” I mutter after a few moments of silence. “Okay then... Since we can’t solve the puzzle, I better get back to work,” I say with a different voice while pushing out of my chair.
She rises to her feet as well.
Minutes later we split in front of my office.
I push through the door, sullen. Running my hand down on my pencil skirt I smooth the fabric before I slip into my chair and glue my eyes to the computer screen. My fingers fly over the keyboard as my mind goes blank for a few moments.
Why do I care about him and his love life anyway?
I finish my report and start organizing my files when a thought pops in my head.
Glancing at the door from time to time, I pull out the expense report that gives me a detailed log of his private account transactions.
No matter how much I tell myself that it’s part of my work, my heart starts beating waywardly as if I’m doing something illicit.
I scan the information and the numbers.
Nothing catches my eye. I look over past reports and study them back to back. Hmm... There’s a hotel expense regularly charged at the end of the week. One or two nights.
It’s the same place, and the information wouldn’t have much meaning, but I know for a fact his home is only a half hour away from that place.
It’s a posh hotel in an area packed with bars and clubs.
“I’m leaving.”
His voice explodes in my ears.
I flick my eyes up, my voice shattered. Gone.
He peers at me from the doorway, not all the way in and certainly not leaving as he said he’d do.
He narrows his eyes and slings me a questioning look.
I’m sure by now I’m white, or perhaps red, as my cheeks feel as if they just got set aflame.
Puzzled, he walks in and lets the door slam behind him. I watch him stride to me. Tall and muscular, dressed in dark suit pants that fit him smoothly, a crisp white shirt and a silk azure tie.
He brings his hands to the neckline and starts tugging at the knot, loosening his tie. He unbuttons the top of his shirt–– only a couple of buttons, but it’s enough to make me melt in my chair.
“You okay?” he asks with the voice of someone who cares about me, and I turn into a fluid mess.
With a trembling hand, I grip the edge of my desk, swiftly rearranging my thoughts.
Do something for fuck’s sake.
And I do. I push out of my chair and walk around the desk, heading to a small fridge. I sense his stare on my back, or maybe it’s my mind spinning, totally unscrewed.
I no longer trust myself.
“You want something to drink?” I ask him as if we’re lounging together. “I have water,” I say.
Not surprisingly, silence meets my words.
Bottle of water in my hand, I spin around.
He did look.
I can tell by the way he tears his gaze away from me and evades my eyes. Good thing I listened to Elsa, and I picked a form fitting, dark red dress with round neckline, short sleeves and a hemline that hits right above my knees.
He looks down at the floor or perhaps at my legs. I can’t tell for sure. I stop in front of him. His eyes find mine with the precision of a laser.
“Water?” I say, holding the bottle up, and smiling.
I’ve never been so bold in my entire life. And this is probably not the best circumstance to start with.
His head does a small motion side to side, and my hand drops, limp.
“Okay,” I say, my gaze falling at the base of his neck, licking that patch of taunt skin, sweeping the crook of his shoulder.
Clearly, I’m losing it.
“I’ll be back on Monday,” he announces with a flat voice while checking his phone.
From lips to lungs my airways turn dry.
“Okay,” I say softly, sounding as if I’m not going to survive over the weekend. “Is there anything in particular, you’d want me to do for Monday board meeting?”
“We’ve discussed it...” he tosses at me.
A bit annoyed?
Hard to say, but he’s surely distracted.
“Any special arrangements for this weekend?”
When I expect it the least, he tears his gaze away from his phone and flicks his sky-like eyes up to me.
A gasp rolls off my lips. His gaze dips to my mouth, the moment getting awkward by the moment. The air feels hot as if the AC stopped working.
Suddenly my dress feels tight.
I fill my lungs with a sharp breath, my fingers furtively creeping along my neckline, and pulling the fabric away from my skin as I crave the brushing of cold air.
“Are you hot?” he asks.
The way it sounds in his mouth makes my temperature spike.
There wasn’t even an undertone in his voice, and I’m sweating as if I’m captive in a sauna. In contrast, he is cool as a cucumber.
His phone starts ringing.
Thank God, my silent pray was answered. He takes the call while I crawl to my desk, and swiftly open the window, waiting for him to vacate the premises so that I can breathe.
“Yes. No,” he says on his phone.
His words come out fast. Clipped. Abrupt.
“Why today? I thought I’ve discussed this with you... No, it wasn’t James... Okay. Fine,” he says, no emotion in his voice, although I can tell he’s pissed. “I said, fine,” he barks with a cold voice, and I no longer need a fan to cool off.
I’m frosted.
He swipes the phone with his thumb, ends the call and shoves it into his pocket.
“Change of plans,” he says, fixing his tie. “Clean up your desk. You come with me,” he says, running his palm down his chest, smoothing the silky band of fabric.
“What happened?” I ask, tidying up the working surface.
“The meeting with Wells got moved up,” he announces evenly as I grab my purse and my tablet.
DAHLIA
He holds the door open for me as I float out of the office, my legs soft like butter. His car keys clink in his hand, drawing the attention of a few co-workers. They glance at us as we walk down the corridor.
I feel like a princess.
Chris gets a glimpse of us as I furtively wave at her. The moment we veer toward the elevator, she gives me a thumbs up.
We ride down to the underground parking in perfect silence. I tilt my chin down pretending I’m studying my shoes, while all I do is giving him surreptitious glances.
He doesn’t seem to acknowledge my presence, caught in whatever information he gleans from his phone.
“Do you have any siblings?” he suddenly asks, making me jerk out of my reconnaissance mission.
I flick my eyes up to him.
“Siblings...?”
“Brothers, sisters...”
“Oh, yes. One sister.”
“Older? Younger?”
“Younger.”
“You two get along well?’
“Yeah,” I say, unsure where he goes with that. “For the most part anyway,” I add with a soft voice.
The elevator doors slide open, and he motions me outside.
“This way,” he says as I take the wrong turn.
He grabs my elbow so fast, I spin on my heels and lose my balance, bumping into him. I get a rush of heat and something else, a brief moment before he tears his fingers off me.
I follow him, a bit wobbly, heels clicking on the pavement.
He shows me to a black Ferrari that smoothly opens its doors f
or us.
“That’s––”
“Faster,” he says, cutting me off, and answering the question before I even pop it.
He gets settled in the driving seat as I find my way around mine. Helpful, he leans closer to me, and locks my seatbelt, brushing my fingers in the process.
I almost pass out in my seat.
I breathe him in for a moment, indulging in feeling him so close to him, and sensing the warmth of his body while getting drunk on his fresh scent.
A few strands of hair slide down his brow, sweeping his chiseled cheekbones. My fingers suddenly itch to comb those strands back.
He glances up and locks my eyes, a faint smile glinting in his gaze, telling me he read my mind.
“Relax,” he says, and I melt in embarrassment.
I’m not that obvious, am I?
His gaze takes an interesting route as it pulls away from my eyes, drifting down and over my chest. That reminds me I haven’t drawn a proper breath for the past few moments.
He shifts his focus away, and I finally slacken in my seat.
A gruff sound courses through the metallic body as he turns the engine on. Smoothly, he steers left, and we roll out of the parking.
It’s a short drive, a mere ten minutes, and every second with him feels like an anniversary. As much as I’d like to keep my emotions under control, I quickly realize it’s not something I can do.
He glances at me as we take another turn.
“How do you like your job so far?”
“I love it,” I say.
“You’re pretty good,” he mutters with a soft voice. “It’s gonna be hard to let you go,” he continues, and my stomach flips, promptly crawling up my neck. “I mean... to another department,” he adds, and, um...
Is that a smile?
Is the always composed Lex Harrington poking fun at me?
“Are you messing with me?” I ask, surprising myself with my boldness and the unexpected intimacy flashing in my voice.
It’s useless to deny it.
We’ve been walking this thin line since I pulled that stunt for Ed Preston last Friday, perhaps even from before.
He flicks his eyes to me, and I have to bite my lip to stop a smile. Yet, he doesn’t. His lips curve into a lazy grin that lights up his eyes. From my thighs to my chest it sets my body on fire.
I can’t believe it... He’s really flirting with me.
“I do.”
His response comes promptly, but my mind has a hard time to process.
He studies my eyes for a moment–– I probably look baffled, and flashes that killing smile again.
“Yes. I’m messing with you,” he says with a voice that doesn’t belong to my boss but rather the handsome man in the driver’s seat.
The thought gives me shivers.
The car runs over a speed bump as we enter a different parking lot, and we both shift our focus away from each other.
The meeting takes place in a large conference room in the building where Larry Wells’ law firm occupies an entire level.
It’s our monthly gathering––the first of this kind for me. It’s usually hosted at their place, and it entails a review of legal issues pertaining to Sexton Enterprise. Sometimes, like now, it also involves billing issues.
The conference room is set for us––I mean him. Four Associate attorneys, all young, already seat around the table, split between the two sides.
Larry Wells stands near the chair at one end of the table while Madison Campbell takes the first seat at his right.
Lex Harrington lets me walk in first and shows me to the closest seat to him. With one sweep of the room, I register people’s reactions, a couple of them worth noticing.
Madison Campbell purses her lips with frustration, and a dark-haired male Associate––someone I’ve never met before, furtively checks me out.
They all rise as Lex enters the room. Larry Well walks around the table, eager to shake hands with him.
It’s a multi-million dollar handshake, so it comes as no surprise, that Mr. Well is warm and fuzzy. Lex takes the seat at the other head of the table and motions me–– for the second time, to the chair at his left which puts me next to the brunette Associate attorney.
The sharp edge of tension flashes in my boss’ eyes as he catches sight of my neighbor ogling me again. Helpful, the man offers me his pen as I fumble under a thick binder for mine.
It’s an innocent gesture, and yet it stirs a small storm in Lex’s eyes. Face flushed, I tilt my chin down and start taking notes the moment the meeting commences.
From the other end of the table, I sense Madison Campbell’s stare, drilling my face on a few occasions, but I’m too busy gloating to care.
Thirty minutes slip by before we all take a small break. The man at my left uses the opportunity to introduce himself.
Lex Harrington throws him a glance, that reads more like watch it, before he spins around and joins Larry Wells and Madison Campbell for a private conversation.
During the few minutes of break, some people get refreshments while Andrew Mako, the man who took interest in me, starts talking to me.
As we share impressions on our jobs, my eyes travel quite a few times in my boss’ direction. Ms. Campbell catches me studying him a couple of times. She smirks at me while she and her partner keep conferring with him.
To my satisfaction, Lex glances in my direction as well, if nothing else to keep an eye on my new suitor.
They break away minutes later, and people claim their seats again.
Lex Harrington starts to speak.
“We can actually do this alone,” he says with a calm, commanding voice, and Larry Wells motions to the Associate attorneys to vacate the room.
Andrew slips his business card onto my tablet.
As discreet as his gesture is, it still catches Lex’s eye. I collect the business card and gather my belongings when I hear Lex’s voice again.
“Madison,” he says, lifting an eyebrow.
Reluctantly, Ms. Campbell heads for the door as well.
I’m half way out of my chair when his hand lands on mine, and I turn to mush.
“You stay,” he says, and I drop back into my seat. “You don’t have to take notes,” he adds as they begin talking about the acquisition of a conglomerate of businesses, projected to bring additional revenue to Sexton Holdings.
Half an hour later, he signals the meeting is over.
I pull out of my chair, and step into the corridor, looking for the restroom. The receptionist points me to a different hallway.
I take a turn when a door cracks open, and male voices and laughter drift through the air.
“Forget her,” a baritone voice says. “You picked the wrong chick. I’m sure Lex Harrington fucks her already.”
“How would you know?”
I recognize Andrews’s voice.
“Listen,” says a third voice, “It’s no secret, Campbell has the hots for him for some time, and she’s not making any headway. And now, she’s even more frustrated that his young chick is following him around. Her eyes were tasering the poor girl. Trust a woman instinct. Besides, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out. Who wouldn’t want that girl’s legs wrapped around him? I know I would.”
The door slides wide open, and I spin like a piñata looking for my way back. Forget about the restroom.
I find my boss next to the elevator, talking to Larry Wells, waiting for me. He glances at me, and I shift my gaze away, unable to hold his eyes.
They shake hands briefly before Lex and I break away and walk into the elevator.
I’m a mess.
“What happened?” he asks as the door pulls shut.
“What?”
I flick my eyes up.
“You’re pale,” he says, erasing the possibility to throw him a lie.
“Nothing,” I mutter.
He shifts his gaze away from me, and for the rest of the trip back to his car, we share silence.
The doors slide shut, sealing us inside his ride. He turns the key into the ignition and waits.
“Are you going to tell me?” he asks with a demanding voice.
I swing my gaze to him.
I freeze, caught in the moment, my eyes locked with his. This is not the best moment or place to examine him, and yet, I can’t stop myself from drinking him in. The warm softness in his azure eyes, and the elegance of his handsome features. His chiseled profile, and his well-defined lips. His jawline, speaking of strength and determination.
Perfectly aware, I’m studying him, he lets me do my thing, at the same time soaking in my face.
I dip my eyes a couple of times, my gaze tracing the contour of his lips. I wonder how he kisses. Soft and tender? Hard and passionate? Both. The thought sends tingles down my body, warming me up.
He must be a good lover, I muse. Men like him usually are.
That’s silly. How would I know?
The man’s a mystery to me.
How childish of me to say I’d know everything about him. My words must’ve really amused him.
Sure, I know the way he serves his coffee––a shot of Italian espresso with a dash of cream. And I also know, he’s not crazy about sweets.
I know he loves the blue ties. He has about a dozen of them, all sticking with the same coloristic palette. Depending on the light, each of them has the power to affect the color of his eyes.
From cold dark blue to warmth infused sky-like eyes.
I know he doesn’t smile much or easily, and usually, not much transpires in his grin, expression or inflection of his voice.
Guarded and reserved, he’s fair when it comes to work. And speaking of work, his mind always seems to be working in overdrive.
Once in a while, I wonder if a heart of ice resides inside.
“Dahlia?”
His voice is soft and warm.
That’s the way he’s been calling me lately, only because he likes to play with me and mess with me.
“I can’t tell you,” I say, my voice giving half of it away.
His eyes dip to my lips, and my heart flips in my chest.
Are we sharing the same thought?
“You have to tell me,” he says.
Despite his velvety voice, he still demands it.
But I can’t tell him.
