by Shayne Ford
But that’s not my problem.
The real problem is, in about two hours I have to face him in a different capacity. As a different woman. As someone who can’t remind him of the girl who ground against his cock on Friday evening. There can’t be the slightest hint. If he knows I’ve straddled him on a false pretense, I’m totally fucked.
That will ruin much more than my job, possibly my chances for a future job and for sure, anything related to him.
I dwell for a few moments.
Like an actor prepping for a role. Who should the girl from the office be? Someone who becomes less and less relevant as a woman and slowly fades away into oblivion? Or a stiff competitor for the exotic dancer who got him hard?
Would he, metaphorically speaking, be cheating on the dancer with the office girl? Or would it be the other way around? Who would he prefer? Maybe this will teach me who he really is.
I pick two dresses from the hangers and try them on.
One is a navy frock trimmed with cream trimming at the neckline and the armholes. It features a slim fit and tailored design, and it smoothly follows the contour of my body, setting off my silhouette.
The other one is plain, charcoal gray with short sleeves, and is more appropriate for work. It also makes my face look paler, and overall, I look washed out. I drop it on the bed and ponder.
So, which one is it, Dahlia?
Do I want to get more of his attention or less? At work, I mean.
Pick one, damn it.
Well, let’s make his life more interesting, shall we?
I slip the navy dress on and pair it with red heels. I twirl a couple of times, examining myself in the mirror. One thing is for sure.
I can’t let my hair down. That would be one easy way to mess with his memory and potentially raise his suspicion. Sure, sometimes the most obvious things are the hardest to believe, but I can’t afford that risk.
I brush all my hair back, tie it and twist it into a chignon. The nude lipstick and nails remove any resemblance to the nocturnal version of myself. After applying a few more layers of mascara, my eyes look good, meaning innocent.
Perfect.
I glance one last time in the mirror, and then I step closer and examine myself.
My heart starts beating faster.
The makeover is perfect indeed, and yet it can’t erase the memory that still makes my blood simmer.
That night... He touched me between my legs...
“Are you ready?”
“Ahh...”
Startled, I spin around.
“Damn it, Elsa. You scared the shit out of me.”
Her mouth drops open, her gaze slipping down my legs.
“Oh, my God! What happened to you?”
“What?”
“I’ve never seen you dressed like that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your dressing up was always akin to your dating life. One step forward, two steps back. You used to put one nice thing on you and then messed up two others just to make sure you fucked up your look.”
“Not true.”
“Yes it is,” she says, nodding, still examining my dress.
“This looks great. And your hair. Jesus, Dahlia! You look really good. Is today a special day?”
“No. Not really. I mean there is one important meeting, but it’s just business as usual.”
“Hmm,” she mutters, quirking her lips as she takes a good look at my shoes. “Perhaps your second job brought the vixen in you to life.”
The heat of a blush spreads across my face.
“There is no vixen.”
“That’s not what Tasha said.”
She slumps into a chair.
I look at her, hands clasped on my hips.
“What did she say?”
“You made quite a splash, and you have the money to prove it,” she says, hinting at my cushy weekend payout.
“Speaking of which. Do you usually know who the clients are?” I ask.
She shrugs.
“No. They don’t introduce themselves to us,” she says jokingly. “They don’t need to. So unless there’s someone we know from outside, no, we have no idea. Plus we sign NDAs, and we have no desire to dig a hole in which to fall in later on.”
“What about the men? Do they know the name of the girls?”
“No. Not unless the girls themselves divulge their names. The privacy policy works both ways. It’s not in the owner’s best interest to reveal the girls’ names to the clients.”
“Why are you asking?”
“No reason.”
I pick up my purse from the bed.
“Good luck!” she says, smiling naughtily.
“What are you talking about?” I toss back at her, barely crushing a grin.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she says, and I give her a kiss on her cheek before I head outside.
15
DAHLIA
I know he’s here.
I’ve heard his voice a couple of times, and someone called his name in the hallway. Everybody’s here early. The lawyers are in with a different set of Associates. The Livingston brothers are expected any minute. The firm’s lawyers and accountants are in as well.
The room is ready for them. It’s been ready since eight o’clock. My eyes shift from my phone screen to my computer to my desk phone.
He’s busy.
He must know I’m in. A lot of people swarm around him, and unless I have a valid reason to approach him, there’s no need to step outside and stalk him.
I’ll be in that room as well. I check the time. I’ll wait ten more minutes. Unless he calls me.
The office door cracks open, a messenger sticking his head in. I push out of my chair.
“Hi, Jeremy,” I say, smiling.
He hands me an envelope and shows me where to sign for it.
“What is going on?” he says, glancing over the shoulder, pointing at the group of people outside.
“It’s Monday morning.”
“It must be more than that,” he says, grinning, already pulling away.
The door remains cracked open. I’m standing in the middle of the room, checking the envelope, when a stare burns my face.
I lift my gaze.
From across the hallway, a pair blue eyes seizes me. Someone talks to him at his side, and yet he leans the other way so he can get a better look at me.
I wave and smile and take a step toward the hallway, only to shut the door and kill his view. I barely slide into my chair when the office door swings open, and he pushes through.
“Morning,” he says, striding to my desk, overtly scanning me with his gaze.
I rest my elbows on the table, straighten my back, and give him a charming smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Harrington. How are you today?” I ask with a clear, crystalline voice.
He quirks an eyebrow and narrows his eyes, a small smile brushing his lips.
“Good. How about yourself?” he tosses at me with a flat voice, furtively studying me at the same time.
His gaze sweeps my face and my lips, my hair and my dress, and everything in between. He seems puzzled, intrigued and perhaps fascinated a bit, or at least that’s what I want to believe.
“Do you have anything for me? Anything I need to sign off on?” he asks.
Now, he’s just making up an excuse to kill some time in my office. He’s never asked that before because he never needed to.
I always bring those documents to him. Without him asking. There’s no need to ask for them now.
“I have nothing right now,” I say, smiling, my eyes tangled with his.
He stalls and ponders.
“You’ll be in the room...” he says, trying to buy some time, still examining me as if he’s looking at a different person.
He shoves his hand into his pocket, and my eyes go down on him as well.
He fashions a narrow blue tie, that sparkles against his sharp, white shirt. It’s the c
olor of the sky early summer morning when the air is clear, and the clouds are nowhere to be found. His clean shaven face glows.
He looks at me as if something’s amiss.
He senses it, and yet he can’t figure out what it is.
“How was your weekend?” I ask.
“Good,” he mutters, his eyes tracing my lips.
“Have you done anything special?” I ask a bit teasingly while keeping my face unreadable.
He weighs my words for a moment and purses his lips into a slow smile.
“Same as usual,” he says, his eyes set on me, gauging my reaction.
Something falls inside me.
He catches the shift of my expression before I recover swiftly.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, serious.
“No. I just remembered something. It’s not important,” I say brushing him off with a smile.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Like you... the same as usual.”
A blush creeps up on my face, and I sense my cheeks burning.
Smoothly, I think of a distraction for him and, so I pull out of the chair. The moment I rise, his face beams with a smile.
I walk in front of him perfectly aware of his eyes roaming freely on my body, and the edge of his teeth slowly grazing his lip.
“You dressed up today. Is there a special occasion?” he asks, a flirting smile curving his lips.
I barely stifle one of my own.
“It is, isn’t it?” I say, grinning playfully.
He tilts his head to the side, taking me in amused.
Are we for real?
We’re minutes away from starting an important meeting, people crawl up and down the hallway, and here we are playing a game.
“What exactly is it so special?” he asks.
Holding his gaze, I give him a smile and point over my shoulder in the direction of the conference room.
“The Livingston deal.”
“Is that it?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I purr.
This thing slips away from us faster than I thought.
“Okay, then let’s get it started,” he says with a different voice.
I shift and bend over the desk, reaching across to pick up my tablet. I feel his eyes searing my ass.
“You didn’t call me,” I say, spinning around fast, catching his eyes on my behind.
“Huh?”
With one step, I erase the space between us, bring my fingers to his tie and start playing with the knot, pretending that it needs to be adjusted.
He has a hard time to hide his surprise.
“You didn’t call me,” I say softly, brushing the length of his tie and at the same time trailing his hard chest and flat stomach. “You said you were gonna call me. That was last Wednesday. You didn’t.”
He parts his lips, his gaze glinting with surprise as I get lost in his azure eyes. Silent, we’re both smiling, caught in the magic of the moment.
I pray no one opens the door right now.
Reluctantly, I tear my hand away from him and step away.
Just in time.
The door opens, and Edward Preston walks in. He fashions a dark suit, white shirt and a red tie. His brown hair strikes a contrast to his skin and warm dark honey eyes.
The man could stop the traffic.
“Are the love birds ready?” he throws at us, instantly getting Lex Harrington flustered.
I grapple with my own blush, so I swiftly walk away from Lex, and sneak by Ed, exiting the room.
LEX
“Zip it, Preston.”
“Lucky jerk. You preach to me and look at you. You’ve got yourself a work wife, and now you have a sex goddess in the making in that dancer. I hope one or both of them fuck you good, to get you off my case.”
I grab the back of his neck and nudge him to the door.
Grinning.
“There’s no such a thing of me getting off your case as long as you can’t keep your pie-hole under control.”
“I say it as I see it.”
“And that’s gonna get you in trouble one day,” I say laughing. “Now, let’s get those papers signed. I’m ready for the summer vacation.”
He throws his arms up in the air.
“Finally,” he says as we both exit Dahlia’s office.
We make the trip to the conference room, my eyes skimming the groups of people, looking for her.
What the hell happened this weekend?
And are all things coming in three? Two, in my case. I spot her quickly, next to the entrance, talking to our accountants.
She looks... different.
Her dress, the hair, her makeup. But there’s something else. I can’t put my finger on it, but I can tell it’s there. And she is flirting with me. I do too, but only because she’s impossible to resist.
When was the last time a woman’s game worked on me?
Hmmm... Let’s see. Never.
Gavin and Bret step out of the elevator, and we move the party inside. People get settled in their seats as our VP starts a comprehensive presentation.
This is not only about buying Livingston’s businesses but also about incorporating them in our own portfolio. Changes lie ahead, good for the people.
A full hour passes by before we take a break, and Gavin, Bret, Ed and I walk outside. James swaggers across the corridor, heading our way.
“Oh. Look who’s here. The man, himself,” says Gavin.
“Things good?” James asks, shaking hands with them.
“Couldn’t be better. Thanks, man.”
James shifts his gaze to me.
“So, are we done for the day?”
“We are, but not them,” I say pointing to the conference room still full of people.
“Well, this time is good as any to spend a day in the Casino,” James says.
Bret and Gavin cheerfully agree.
Ed attaches to them swiftly.
“You want me to make arrangements for lunch?” a suave voice echoes behind my back.
I catch sight of a smile in Sexton’s eyes before I turn around.
Silence falls around us as Dahlia edges to us. They all freeze. Hands tucked in his pockets, James studies her and me. Ed glances at us furtively. Gavin’s eyes light up, and Bret looks at her curious.
“Lunch? Sure,” I say, and smoothly nudge her into her office.
She looks at me, baffled.
“Wait for me here,” I bark as if I talk to a pet or a four-year-old.
I slam the door and spin around.
“So, we get lunch there,” I say, pretending I didn’t just shove my own assistant into her office.
“Sounds good,” the brothers say, heading to the elevator.
Ed follows them closely.
“Is she the work wife?” James asks, smiling wolfishly.
I nod and swallow hard.
“Where do you find them, Lex?”
“Them?”
He lifts his chin and points to the office door.
“Her... and the girl from Silver.”
“I didn’t find them. They found me,” I mutter.
“That’s a nice problem to have,” he says, grinning amused. “You already look exhausted.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“A little,” he says, patting me on my back. “Ed was right. It’s about time someone keeps you on your toes.”
“That goes for him as well.”
He laughs softly.
“Don’t worry about him. He’ll get what’s his. So, are you ready?”
“Yeah... Let me, um... talk to her for a moment.”
He looks at me as if I talk with my ears.
“Bring her with you.”
“What? No, no... I don’t want to. People already talk.”
“Fire them,” he says deadpan, and I start to laugh.
“They don’t work here.”
“Then what the fuck do you care?” he says.
“I don’t. She does.”
He’s clearly in a good mood.
“Never mind.”
I take a step toward her office when a dark-haired man enters the hallway. He stops at the reception and gets directed to Dahlia’s office.
“What’s he doing here?” I mutter.
James’ eyes follow my gaze.
“Who the hell is he?” he asks.
“One of Larry’s Associates. Andrew something. He’s not supposed to be here.”
“Now I know why you’re so exhausted,” James muses.
I get to Dahlia’s door first, crack it open and stick my head inside.
She flicks her gaze at me from across her desk, the sunlight filtering through the shades, brushing her shoulders. I wish I had time to soak her in for a moment.
“You come with me,” I bark.
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you on our way there.”
I slam the door shut and turn around as her suitor makes it near me.
“May I help you?” I throw at him.
Sexton chuckles in the background.
“Andrew Mako,” he says and stretches his hand out to me. Reluctantly, I shake his hand. “I’m looking for Ms. Fox.”
“What for?” I grump, angry like a father.
“I was in the area, and I thought that maybe she’d like to join me for lunch,” he says, smiling sincerely.
I’ll give it to him. The man has guts.
The door opens, and Dahlia shows up in the doorway.
“Andrew?”
“Hi,” he says with a soft voice.
My teeth grit.
James watches everything from the side.
“Well, Andrew...” I mutter, taking in his sharp suit and clean shaven face, “today is not a good day. I’m sure you and Ms. Fox can catch up some other time.”
Dahlia looks at me, intrigued. Mako’s eyes swim with surprise.
“You can tell her goodbye. We’re leaving right now,” I say with a gravelly voice that leaves no room for discussion.
I definitely sound like a pissed father.
They exchange a few words before I flank her along with Sexton and walk her to the elevator.
16
DAHLIA
Oh, my...
