Alex

Sleeping all night with a woman tucked close to me is a new experience. Helen sleeps like the dead and by the looks of it, she’s not waking up anytime soon.

I don’t feel anxious or uncomfortable with her in my bed. I actually wish I didn’t have to get up and go to work today, but I have three important meetings.

When I start to slide out of bed, she opens one eye. “You’re leaving?” she says in a raspy morning voice. “Stay. It’s early.”

She lifts her arms so that I can slide back into them. “I can’t. I’m already going to be late as it is.”

“You’re the boss. Who cares? Come here.”

When I hesitate, she pushes the sheets aside and gets on her knees on the bed. She’s still completely naked and my mouth waters. “You don’t always have to make the responsible decision.” She crawls forward and presses her body against mine, and my cock stirs. I know that I will absolutely not be making any sort of responsible decisions today. She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses me, then moves down on the bed until she’s on her stomach. “I can think of something that’ll get you to stay.” She grabs my cock with her hand, and looking up at me through those long lashes, she makes it a point that I watch as she slides it into my mouth.

“Fuuuuck . . .” I groan. I have nothing to hold on to but her hair as I stand by the side of the bed.

She bites, sucks, and licks with such enthusiasm, I can’t hold on too much longer.

“It’s okay,” she says, looking up at me, knowing exactly what I’m thinking. “Let go. Come in my mouth, Alex.”

And a few moments later I’m doing just that. I’m grunting while trying not to thrust into her mouth as I explode.

Her little satisfied grin fuels me. I flip her over and around, causing her to yelp loudly, and then I drop to my knees on the floor. “Your turn, sweetheart.”

Before she can lift herself up on her elbows, I’m already using my shoulders to spread her legs. I plan on licking her until she’s consumed with so much need, she can’t help but fall back asleep while I go get some work done.

Using my tongue, I flick her clit over and over, then push two fingers into her. She yells loudly and starts making incoherent noises. I know she’s close—her pussy gets wetter and wetter and tighter and tighter as I work to tip her over the edge. It doesn’t take long at all before she’s pulling my hair and squeezing my head as she contracts over and over again.

“Holy crap, Alex,” she murmurs once she’s caught her breath. I move up her body and pull her back to the top of the bed. “That was so, so good,” she says with a yawn.

There was a vulnerability in Helen last night that made a part of me ache. It was as if I had to help her. Not out of a sense of obligation, but because I needed to do it. For me. And having her safe and sound under my roof, close to my own room, made me feel good. But not as good as making love to her. That was sublime.

Which is why I decide to hold her for a little while until she drifts back to sleep. Afterward, I’ll leave to go work.

Helen

My body is sore, but in the most wonderful way. Quietly and carefully, I turn to check the time. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon. No wonder my stomach is rumbling.

A heavy, warm body smooshing me against the bed alerts me to the fact that Alex missed his appointments. Thank God my boss is in bed with me, because I failed to show up to work this morning.

I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom. I look through the drawers until I find spare toothbrushes and toothpaste, and help myself. After I brush my teeth, I look up at the mirror and run my fingers through my crazy hair, then I put on a fluffy white robe that I find behind the door. I take one last look at myself. My face is still pink from his stubble rubbing my sensitive skin and I’m glowing. I look like I have blush on, but it’s just the effects of the wonderful sex.

I close the door quietly behind me and head to his bedroom. Interesting how such a large room can be quite dark. Maybe it’s due to all the dark wood furniture or the lack of windows. It’s gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not what I’d expect from someone as wealthy as Alex.

I search through his armoire and drawers until I find a T-shirt and some old jogging pants. I put them on, then head downstairs.

The staff’s already there and the place is hopping. “Good afternoon,” Carina, one of the housekeepers, greets me with a knowing smile. It makes me uncomfortable that the staff surely knows, or is about to know, that I slept over. And the fact that I’m wearing Alex’s clothes doesn’t help matters. But, they don’t know our history and they don’t know me. I swallow down my mortification. “Good morning, Carina.”

“May I start on the second floor?”

I bite my lip. “Um . . . yes. You can clean up Mr. Archer’s room, but not the guest room. He’s still asleep.”

With an even bigger smile, she walks away as I head to the kitchen.

“Good morning, or should I say, good afternoon?” Mrs. Roe teases as I turn the corner. “Coffee?”

“Yes, but I can get it myself. Thank you.” I pour myself a large mug and sit at the table. “What is going on today?” I ask.

“Nothing much. The floor is being installed. Marshall has his crew back there working on it.”

“Oh, that’s right!” I get up and quickly shuffle my way to the other wing, curious to see how my selection of old Spanish tiles looks. It was a mission finding the perfect tiles to fit with the wood floors already inside the house. I wanted to make sure the new wing matches well with the house’s esthetics.

The room looks like a prism when I walk in, the sun shining down on the glass dome. It’s gorgeous as it reflects against the white walls.

“Good afternoon, Marshall,” I call out.

He’s on his knees laying down tiles when he looks up. He quickly assesses what I’m wearing but smartly refrains from saying anything about it. “Hey, Helen. How’s it goin’?”

“Good, thanks. I’m loving the floor, and man, the sun looks awesome in here at this time of day.”

“It looks good, right?” He stands up and brushes the dust off his hands with his pants. “Glad this isn’t a bedroom. It’s too bright.” He walks over to grab a box from the floor.

A bedroom. Hmmm. Interesting.

“Is there any way of somehow opening and closing that dome remotely?”

“Opening and closing?”

“Well, like electric blinds. Something to make it less sunny in here.”

“You just said you liked it.”

“I do, but you just said something that . . . Just hear me out. If Mr. Archer wants to make this his master bedroom instead of an office, he can’t do that if the sun will be shining in from the roof every morning at sunup.”

“I suppose we can see if there’s a way of doing custom blinds up there. But it’s unusual, and that roof is high as hell. It would cost a fortune.”

“But it can be done?”

“For the right price, anything can be done.”

“Then let’s do that.” I walk to a big table in the center of the room where the plans are laid out. “I want to surprise Al—I mean Mr. Archer—by making this his new bedroom.”

Marshall furrows his brows and looks up and then around. “But, Mr. Archer specifically said he wanted an office. Will he be okay with this change?”

He told me to do whatever I wanted, didn’t he? “He’ll love it.”

“Don’t you think we should ask him first?”

“Nope. He told you that I had carte blanche with expenses and decisions, right?”

“Yes,” he says hesitantly.

“So, it’s settled. Don’t say anything to him. I want it to be a surprise.”

I head out of the room, excited. He’s going to love it. It’s time Alex gets out of his dark, moody hole and comes out into the bright light with the rest of the world.

I sit at the dining room table and open the laptop I use here at work. I check my emails and see a dozen messages, all asking about Alex. I realize my phone’s been on silent and when I look down, I have a bunch of missed calls and texts. One is from Gina, checking in. I send her a quick update and get back a bunch of surprised emojis. I text her that I’ll call her later tonight with all the details. I also have messages from some of the people at Duality, including Iggy, asking how I’m doing. The next two texts are from Monique and the last is from an unfamiliar number, which I think might be Bradley. I decide that it’s best to call Monique instead of Bradley.

“Helen?” she answers.

“Hi, Monique. Sorry, my phone was accidently on silent and I just saw your messages.”

“Where are you?”

“At work. Here in Al—Mr. Archer’s house.”

“Where is he? He had three appointments this morning and missed them all. And he’s not answering his phone. Bradley’s going insane, and he’s still in recovery and should be relaxing.” She says all of this in one long breath.

“Mr. Archer’s in bed. He’s not feeling well,” I quickly explain. It’s a white lie, but . . . it’s the only excuse I could think of.

“Sick? He’s never sick. What’s wrong with him?”

“I . . . uh . . . I don’t know. I just know he’s still in bed and doesn’t want to be bothered. I’m going to check his appointments and cancel whatever else he’s got for the rest of the day. Please send his apologies to the people he was supposed to meet with this morning. And, also, I’d like an inter-office email sent out that Mr. Archer is taking a personal day and is not to be disturbed.”

“Whoa! Well, you’ve made yourself at home, I see,” she chuckles. “Good. He needs someone to take care of things for him. I just wish I’d have known before our Chinese investors waited for an hour for him.”

“Sorry, I should have called earlier. I was . . . taking care of things here.”

“He’s probably an ogre when he’s sick,” Monique says. “If he’s ornery on his good days, I don’t want to see him on a bad day.”

“Uh . . . yep. A total jerk. Anyway, let me get back to work. Can you let Bradley know too? I think he called me.”

“Yes, I will. Talk to you later, Helen.”

“’Bye, Monique.” After I hang up, I go through Alex’s calendar and spend the next half hour cancelling and rescheduling his appointments. When I’m done, I search for his phone. I find it charging next to his bed, which is why we hadn’t heard it. I lower the ringer, just in case, and then finally head back to the guest room to check in on Alex.

As I sit on the bed, he stirs, his hand patting the empty space next to him searchingly. When he comes up empty-handed, he groans, then slowly flips to his back and sits up. There’s a moment of confusion as he looks around the room for me. “You’re up,” he says groggily.

“Yep. My boss doesn’t let me sleep in until three in the afternoon.”

He yawns and reaches forward to pull me closer. “Har, har. What time is it, really?”

“Almost three,” I repeat.

He jumps out of bed, looking around for something. “It can’t be. Where’s my phone? I had meet—”

I stand up and cup his face in my hands. “Relax. Your awesome assistant took care of it all. You, Alex Archer, are taking a personal day. Everyone who needs to know has been notified and your meetings have all been rescheduled.”

“Brad—”

“He already knows. It’s okay. You can take a day off. I swear, the world will continue to rotate while you take a day off.”

He is running his hands through his hair when he actually really looks at me for the first time since waking up. His brows rise and the corners of his lips turn up. “What are you wearing?”

“Some of your things. You should probably be aware that the staff is doing a terrible job at pretending they don’t know that we slept together.”

He shrugs and slides back into bed, burrowing his face in my neck. “Who cares what they know.”

“You sure about that?” What’ll happen if his family and friends back in Seattle find out?

He kisses my cheek, then moves back a bit so he can see my eyes. “I’m sure. I don’t have to explain my sex life to anyone, Helen. Neither do you. Does it embarrass you?”

I sit up, and cross my legs in the middle of the bed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t have given a damn years ago.”

“Well, I was an asshole years ago.” I feel myself starting to get upset. I don’t like that he is so callous about the staff. I am a member of the staff. “I’m more like them than I am like you, Alex.”

“You went to finishing school, and your high school tuition was more than those people make in a lifetime.”

“Get your ass off that throne, Alex—it’ll feel better to be down here with the regular population. Just because you’re the boss doesn’t mean you should be an ass. I may have done all those things you mention, but I’ve also lived in a tent, been homeless, cleaned rooms at a motel for work, I’ve flipped burgers, and—”

He takes a breath and covers my mouth with a finger. “I’m sorry.” I’m relieved that he actually sounds genuine. “I’m . . . You’re right. I need to get to know them. Maybe you can help me with that.”

“Yes. Of course.”

“I hate that you went through all of that, Helen. I can’t tell you how upset it makes me.”

“It’s okay. Really, it’s fine. It was a hard time, but I’m stronger for it.” Then I remember what Gina always says. “And right now, things are pretty damn good. But when they’re not, I always think of how I went through the worst already and survived.”

He kisses me tenderly. “I’ll leave the staff up to you. If you want to tell them, tell them. If you don’t, don’t. I’ll do whatever you think is best. I trust you. You know I’m not good with people.”

“You’re better than you think, Alex.”

“No, I’m not. But for some reason my social awkwardness hasn’t ever seemed to bother you.”

“It doesn’t. It’s who you are. It’s not awkward. Anyway, I guess the question is: is this a one-time thing? Because if it is, why tell anyone anything, right?”

Yes, I’m fishing for answers. I know, I know. How pathetic am I? But I need to know where we stand.

“I don’t want it to be a one-night-only thing. I hope you don’t either.”

“I feel the same,” I say, relieved.

“But, I should tell you, Helen,” he continues in a serious tone. “I . . . even if I’m willing to put the past aside, I need you to know that I’ll never—not ever—forgive your father. So, if you want to try to make it work between us, you have to know that.”

“Alex, he’s innocent. I swear. I don’t know how else to—”

He covers my mouth with his, essentially shutting me up. “Sweetheart, if we talk about it, we’ll end up fighting. So, maybe it’s best we don’t talk about it.”

I let out a big breath. I don’t know if I can just walk around pretending my father doesn’t exist. Or be in a relationship with a man who thinks so poorly of my father, the man I love most in the world. As he kisses down my neck, I decide maybe it’s best to just take this day by day.

I’ve always been good at pretending everything is all right.