CHAPTER TEN

Sleep doesn’t come easily. Xan’s words echo in my brain on repeat.

You’re my employee. Just his employee. He couldn’t have made us sound more disconnected if he tried.

It shouldn’t bother me. I knew coming in that’s what we would be. What we would always be. I knew it the first time he did indecent things with me. It’s been at the back of my mind all this time. Every time we’ve coupled, it’s been there. But as the weeks have passed, my feelings for him have pushed it further back into my subconscious. I’ve allowed myself to forget. Allowed myself to pretend.

I’m a stupid girl.

Why did I ask that question? Everything would have been okay if I hadn’t asked—if I had kept pretending.

But I did ask, and something inside of me shifted on a seismic level. It’s like the blinds have been thrust open on a person who hasn’t seen the sun in years. It hurts, but my eyes still fluttered open. And now that I can see...

This isn’t going to work anymore. My heart is too tangled. Too warped.

No matter how much I try to disregard my feelings for Xan, they’ll always be there. And when he eventually replaces me with someone else, it will kill me.

I can’t just wait for that to happen. Now that I know what we aren’t, every time he leaves the house I’m going to worry. My paranoia that he’ll find someone else will increase tenfold. I’ll live a life of misery. And I darn sure can’t take the chance of him getting me pregnant. Being disowned by him...it would be too much.

I have to protect myself. Have to save myself from any of those horrible things happening. And for that reason, I have to leave.

I learned my lesson the first time. If I walk into Xan’s office and tell him I’m quitting, he might turn the tables on me; might seduce me into staying. And for that reason, I wait. I drag my exhausted body out of bed the next morning, make breakfast, and pretend like nothing is wrong. I’m a terrible actress, but he doesn’t seem to notice that conversation is sparse; and when it’s not, it’s forced. He doesn’t notice because he doesn’t care. Not really.

When he leaves for his meeting, I draft a resignation letter. It’s long and far more personal than it should be, but I need him to know exactly why I can’t work for him anymore. I include that I’ve fallen for him. That my feelings present a conflict of interest and will hamper my performance. That I’m not built for the kind of relationship he’s asked of me and that someone who can separate their feelings from business would be better suited for the job. I thank him for his hospitality and tell him that being his personal assistant has been a truly enjoyable, albeit strange, experience. I think about being bold and asking if he would be kind enough to give a good recommendation to any future employer that might call him, but without putting in my two weeks notice, that seems a bit too much to ask for. In reality, I know he’s not going to be happy. I know he’ll likely never speak a kind word about me again. I know I’m done in the professional world.

Oh well. I’ve always enjoyed manual labor more anyway. I’ll go back to the ranch. And if they don’t take me, I’ll bake bread and sell it on the streets until something else comes along. God always provides somehow.

I take off the lingerie I was supposed to be wearing all day today, fold it neatly and place it on Xan’s desk next to the letter and the cell phone he bought me. Then I pack what few belongings I brought with me and walk down the street to catch the bus home. A heavy sigh escapes me as I walk through the door to my apartment. It’s over.

Dorothy is away visiting family. Ruby is home watching Mom. Almost as soon as I walk through the door, she leaves to go to her salon. I tend to my mother, trying my best to distract myself by playing games. Despite telling myself that everything is alright, I feel a pit in my stomach, and it deepens with each passing hour. I find myself having a hard time concentrating, my thoughts stuck on how Xan will react when he finds the letter. And when it becomes late, and my mother asks why I haven’t returned to work, I decide to tell her everything.

She doesn’t understand half of it, her brain too damaged to comprehend much. Even on the bad parts, she just smiles and tells me that everything will be okay. She tells me that I did what I had to do and that I’m a good girl. That God will forgive me.

It’s more comforting than she’ll ever know, and as tears spill down my cheeks and I pull her into an embrace, I know that she’s not disappointed in me. She won’t cast the same shame on me that the Amish community did on her. She won’t shun me.

The doorbell rings, and I sigh as I’m forced to pull away from the tender moment. Living in a section 8 complex, we get a lot of solicitors. Ruby or Dorothy would just ignore them, but I understand that they’re just doing their job. I take their fliers or listen to their stories with a smile, and then I send them on their way with the hope that they made a difference for their organization or company. We can all do with a little hope.

I excuse myself, leaving my mother to finish painting something that looks like either a buffalo or a horse, I can’t really tell. When I open the door, I clutch at my chest from the shock of who is on the other side. Xan gives me a queer look as I pat over my heart, swallowing the breath I nearly choked on.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

He’s still in his business suit from this morning. My letter is clutched in his fist. Dread fills me as my eyes land on it.

“I’m fine. I just didn’t expect to see you is all.” I can’t force myself to make eye contact with him. This is the first time I’ve felt guilt since writing that letter. This was supposed to be easy. I wasn’t supposed to have to face him again. Everything in that letter is more of an explanation than anything that could pass my lips. There’s nothing left to be said.

“May I come in?” He gestures into the house.

Against my better judgment, I meekly nod and step aside. Xan enters our small living room before his gaze sets on my mother at the bar. His lips curl into a smile, and he takes long strides over to her. I barely have time to shut the door before I realize where he’s headed, and when I do, I panic. The last thing I need is for my mother to meet the man who broke my heart right after I told her that story about him.

“Mrs. Miller.” He goes down on one knee in front of her so that they’re at eye level.

She looks at him with confusion before her gaze drifts back to me. She points to Xan with a shaky finger. “Christiana, who is this handsome gentleman?”

Xan takes her hand, drawing her attention back to him. “I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. We met a long time ago.”

I furrow my brow. What is he talking about? He’s met my mother before? When?

“Mom. This is—” I begin, but Xan holds out his hand to stop me.

He glances back at me before continuing, “I’m going to tell you a story about something that happened to me that completely changed my life.”

I have no idea where he’s going with this, so I hug myself and listen, flanking my mother’s side so that we’re both facing him.

“When I was a boy, my father would sometimes take me to this bagel shop on Pearl Boulevard on the days that he’d let me go to work with him. It was always a special treat for me. They had the best nova lox bagels.

“There was always this woman on the corner of Pearl and Lamb selling loaves of bread. Even though my father told her no every time we passed by, she’d still try to sell us a loaf.

“Now, to be honest, my father wasn’t the nicest guy. Sometimes, he could be an insufferable asshole. Pardon my language.” He covers his lips with his fingers in apology. “There were times I even wondered why my mother didn’t divorce him. Money was everything to him. He held onto it like it was life. He’d do anything to get it. Nothing else mattered to him. Half of the reason why he even took me to the bagel place was that one of his business associates hung out there and they could talk business while I ate.

“But anyway, I digress. My father looked down on the woman. He thought her a nuisance. He warned me against people like her. Scavengers, he called them. Of course, I was young and impressionable, so I believed him. Everything my father said was fact back then.

“The woman had a little girl with her sometimes. The little girl stood by the woman’s side like a shadow. The woman did all the peddling.”

His story is coming together. I know who the two people are that he’s speaking of. I’m even beginning to remember him now. A bit older than me. Always in a suit with the cruel man by his side. I can distinctly remember that man looking down his nose at us. I also remember the day he was shot.

“It was a day like any other. My father and I were walking back from the bagel shop.” Xan’s voice deadens slightly. “Some men drove by in a car. Shots were fired. My father was hit square in the chest.

“I was so young then. I didn’t know what to do. The woman selling bread immediately came to my father’s aid despite how shitty he had been to her in the past. She tore a piece of her dress off to put pressure on the wound. She tried to save him.

“He died there on the street. The woman pulled me aside. She held me while I cried and shook. Covered in my father’s blood, she held me...not because she had to, but because it was the right thing to do.

“When the cops came, she had her daughter stay with me while she gave them her statement. The girl was quiet, but she had a lot of her mother in her. She told me that everything would be alright, that my father was with God now, and he was in a happy place.

“Before the cops took me away, the little girl gave me one of the loaves of bread. I knew they probably barely made enough money to keep clothes on their backs. My father had never bought bread from them a day in his life. It was a waste for them to give any of it away. But still, she gave me a loaf of bread...out of kindness.” He glances up at me with a soft smile. “And it was delicious bread.”

I don’t know what to say—how to react. I’m speechless from the revelation that he was that same boy from so long ago.

Xan stands, keeping my mother’s gaze, her hand still clutched in his. “Several things changed that day. Most obviously, I became fatherless. But I also learned about the kindness of strangers—that some people will help you even if you don’t deserve it. And I fell in love.” He looks over at me, and my heart stops beating. Could he seriously mean... “I thought about you every single day. When I was old enough to take over my father’s company, I had a private investigator track you both down and keep tabs on you. I watched you over the years. And when you started working for Checkmarks Scholarly, I bought the company just so that I could be closer to you.”

I clutch onto the back of my mother’s chair because I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“I didn’t pass by your desk by chance. Everything was planned. I offered you the personal assistant position because I wanted to see if you were the same person now that you had been back then.” He turns his attention to my mother, and his expression changes, darkens slightly. “Mrs. Miller, I came here today to fire your daughter.”

My knees start to wobble as I feel the blood drain from me. How can he be so cruel? Did I really disappoint him that much? Does he think I’m some horrible person because I slept with him and gave him everything he asked for?

“But she quit and saved me the trouble,” he continues.

My mother’s face is set in a scowl. “You’re an asshole.”

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard her curse. My mouth falls agape, and Xan just guffaws as if this is all some big joke to him.

“I suppose I am.” He nods. “You see, your daughter wrote me this really long resignation letter.” Xan unfolds the letter and glances down at it. My heart cracks at how coolly he regards it. “And it made me realize that we’re not a very good match as boss and employee.”

“Then why are you here, Xan?” I break my silence finally, just wanting him to leave. I don’t understand why he came and shared that story with us if he was just going to be spiteful towards me after. Maybe he couldn’t stand the slight of me quitting so suddenly, the loss of control.

“I came to offer you a different position with me.” He folds the letter and slips it into his pocket, unaffected by my defensiveness.

“Why would I ever want to work for you again?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“You wouldn’t, and I know that.” He pulls a box out from the same pocket that he stuck the letter in.

I think I’m about to faint. What in the hell is going on?

“Mrs. Miller, I know you don’t want an asshole for a son-in-law, but I came to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” Xan turns his attention back to me, opening the box to expose the glittering diamond ring inside. “Christiana, I’d like to offer you a promotion to be my wife.”

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room. Everything starts to fade around me. Before I know what’s happening, my legs buckle, and the ground rushes to meet me. I’ll hit the floor and wake up later realizing this was all just some strange dream.

That’s what I expect to happen.

Strong arms swoop in to stop my descent. I’m pulled against hard muscles, cradled as hands brush across my face. Xan’s voice is distant—full of concern.

It takes several minutes for the veil of unconsciousness to drift away, but when my eyes are finally able to focus again, I see an expression on Xan’s face that’s never been there before. Worry. He’s panicking.

“Christiana, are you alright? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” he asks.

My mother is hovering over me, too.

I try to gather up my strength, but I don’t want to leave Xan’s arms. Instead, I just curl against him.

“Did you just propose to me?” I’ll feel like a moron if the answer is no. The memory is way too fresh for it to have been imagined, though.

“Did my proposal make you faint?” He quirks an eyebrow, but some of the concern leaves his features.

“I think it did.” I nod, forcing myself to find my footing.

“He’s cute. You should marry him,” my mom whispers loudly enough for us to both hear. I’m not sure if she remembers his story or if she’s just excited about the thought of me getting married.

“You should listen to her, Christiana.” Xan winks at my mom, which seems to absolutely delight her. “Neither of you will ever have to worry about anything for the rest of your lives.”

I huff, pulling myself out of his arms to stand on my own. “Is that the only reason I should marry you?” I give him a sarcastic look.

“No. You should marry me because of what’s in this letter.” He pats his pocket. “Because you love me.”

“And do you love me?”

He grins. “Longer than you even knew I existed apparently.”

I have so many questions for him, but his answer suffices for now. To think that he loved me all this time; that I tortured myself over nothing. But why was he so cold towards me?

“Can we discuss this outside?” I glance at the door.

“I think it would be better if we discussed the details of your promotion back at my place.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that has a distinct hint of sexuality to it. Thankfully, my mother can’t tell. Maybe no one else would be able to see it but me because I know him so well.

Almost on queue, Dorothy walks in. She gives us a queer look when she sees us all together.

“Yeah, let’s go.” I kiss my mother goodbye and don’t even bother offering Dorothy an explanation before we leave. Maybe my mom will tell her what happened; maybe she won’t. It will be interesting to find out how much she was able to retain. More than likely, Dorothy will just think she made the whole thing up.

We crawl into the limo, though I leave all my belongings behind because I’m still not sure what’s going on.

“So what say you?” Xan asks, moving to sit beside me in the limo.

“This is all so sudden.” I blush, feeling my affection for him blossom as if being around my mother was the only thing keeping it at bay.

“You tried to leave me. I had to do something drastic to get you back.” He rests his hand on top of mine, entwining our fingers.

Alarm fills me as I look back up at him. “Does that mean you only proposed because I quit?”

“No.” He places a tender kiss on my forehead. “I’d had it planned for a while. You just...didn’t really give me much of an opportunity to do it right. And I knew that if I didn’t do it now, I would lose you.”

“But what about last night? You were so cold towards me.” I sulk from the memory.

“Last night was the final piece of the puzzle. It was the last thing I needed for us to do to make sure you were right for me. But I was scared of what I was feeling and how perfectly everything went. I’m not a vulnerable person, Christiana. Being with you makes me feel things I’m not used to. I suppose that was just a defense mechanism.”

“But why? Why would you feel the need to be that way when you had planned to propose to me anyway? I can only assume you already had the ring.” I highly doubt he went and bought one after his meeting. All the jewelry stores should be closed at this hour, not that I don’t think he has connections.

“Because, like your mother says, I’m an asshole.” He lets out a short laugh.

“You can be sometimes,” I admit.

Xan turns to me, his expression serious. “I have to be honest with you, Christiana, being with me isn’t always going to be easy. I hate to think that I’m anything like my father beside a good business man, but I can be a selfish, demanding prick sometimes.” He slides his hand across my cheek, gently gripping the hair behind my ear to draw me to him. “I want what I want, and I won’t hesitate to make demands.”

My breath hitches from the dirty implication of his words. I know exactly what he means, and I’m more than happy to serve him.

“What might you demand of me?” I ask coyly.

“Filthy things.” The s hisses off his tongue. “Like right now, I want you to wrap that pretty little mouth of yours around my dick.”

My cheeks turn about fifty shades of pink. “Your driver might see us.”

“Good. I want him to see. He had better get used to seeing, because I plan on fucking my wife in this limo every chance I get.”

Wife. That one word spurs me to action. It elevates the hunger I already had for him—the desire to please him.

My hand finds the front of his slacks, and his erect cock pushes at it crudely. It appears that the dirty talk has him aroused, too. Or maybe it’s the thought of doing something naughty with me that we haven’t done before.

When I unzip his pants, his dick practically springs into my hand, ready to be palmed and stroked. I slide down onto my knees, my long skirt making it hard to move in the cramped limo. My lips find his glans, and I inhale his musky scent before placing kisses all over his tip and down the length of his shaft. Then my tongue follows suit, exploring him for the first time ever. He admittedly tastes better than I thought he would, more like skin than anything else.

When I pop his thickness between my lips, he lets out a moan that makes my clit throb. My jaw aches as I make a few passes up and down his length. Then he fists his hand in my hair and takes control, force-feeding me his cock until I’m gagging and choking. It’s amazingly hot, though, that he prefers to be in control. When he’s in control, I feel like I don’t have to worry about whether or not I’m doing it right. He angles me exactly how he wants me, goes so deep that his groans of pleasure say it all.

“Oh fuck, Christiana. Your mouth is so hot. I want to nut in your cunt, though. I’m going to fill you with a baby and make you mine forever.” He urges me off of him, helping me up off of the floor and immediately gathering my skirt.

I can’t help but smirk, wondering if he was secretly trying to get me pregnant all along. There’s no mystery behind his actions now. He just spelled it out for me.

I crawl on top of him, needing him inside of me to feel complete. When he pushes past my threshold, the pleasure is just as much emotional as it is physical. We gaze into each other’s eyes as I writhe on top of him, my hands seated on his shoulders for leverage. And all I see is love. All I feel is my elation from finally owning all of him.

“Yes,” I cry out as I pick up the pace, bouncing on him so rapidly that the friction is quickly driving me to climax. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

If he approves, I can’t tell. He’s too busy panting, and it’s not long before I feel the delicious pulsing sensation that sends me over the edge. He’s coming. I’m coming. We’re coming together.

I squeeze my muscles around him, milking out every drop. Wanting it all inside of me.

There will be no hasty shower. No trying desperately to push his seed out of me. I want it marinating in my womb because I want to have his baby. I don’t care if I have to walk down the aisle in a maternity wedding dress; I can’t wait for us to start a family together.

He stays inside of me until the limo pulls up to his mansion, his arms wrapped around me, his head nestled against my chest. I stroke his hair, so in love, still in disbelief that this is how the day turned out.

I wrote my peace in that letter and left. I was never supposed to see him again. We were over. Done.

Never in a million years could I have imagined that he would offer me another promotion. Now he can demand these filthy things of me for the rest of my life. And I’m going to love every minute of it.

THE END.