Zoey
The world around me zips by. People, cars, buildings…they’re all ghostly blurs as the train races past. I’ve done this every morning, every evening, and every time in between. The scenery is like a movie I’ve seen too many times but can’t quit watching.
This morning feels different. I’m edgy and so uptight my shoulders have yet to relax. Whatever intensity Easton switched on last night had me lying in the dark wide awake, wondering if crushing on my hot boss has me seeing phantom illusions and feeling imaginary sparks. I fought hard not to rub myself and think of how his mouth would feel on my body, how his hands would feel against my skin, or how it would feel to experience him rocking into me.
I won the battle and didn’t give in to my sexual desires. It’s wrong. He’s my boss. He employs me. Controls my future. Yet, I fantasize about feeling his lips on mine or his naked body on top of mine.
Desire and lust.
Sexy and hot.
I’m staring out the window at the smudgy picture when my work phone chirps loudly, scaring the hell out of me. My heart is pounding out of my chest like I’ve been busted again for daydreaming about him.
Easton: I’ll be out of the office all day.
I thumb to the calendar to double check my memory. I know he was supposed to be out this afternoon, but not the entire day.
Me: You have a one o’clock appointment with Mr. Calloway.
Easton: I know. I’ll attend.
I exhale and sink back into the hard plastic chair twisted with both disappointment and relief that I won’t see him.
Turning the phone off DND, it immediately rings.
“Is Easton in?” a woman snaps, sounding irritated as ever.
“He’ll be out of the office for the day. I can transfer you to his voicemail if you’d like.”
She sighs a frustrated breath. “I need to talk to him immediately. I left my wallet in his car last night and I need my work ID out of it.”
Even though I feel a pang of envy, I want to laugh. “Do you have his cell number? A direct line to him.”
“I don’t. Could you give it to me, please?” she sugars the question.
Nice try. Apparently, Easton works in true player ways.
“What’s your number and I’ll make sure he gets the message right away,” I say.
She rambles off her name and number, gritting the last few digits. “I have to be at work in forty-five minutes. Hurry this shit up, would you?” She hangs up on me.
Wonder if she had to do the walk of shame this morning only to have to swallow what dignity she left with, hang her head, and come back. Did he do the gentlemanly thing and take her home after a long night in the sack?
I shouldn’t be this curious.
I shouldn’t be this jealous.
I dial his number.
“Yeah?” he answers roughly, sounding grumpy.
“An Ashley just called and said she left her wallet in your car. She said it has her work ID in it and she needs it like yesterday. She sounded sincere. That’s why I’m calling you.” It’s the truth.
He grumbles something under his breath. “Alright. Thanks,” he says, his tone acerbic and he hangs up.
Seriously, I shouldn’t be feeling this jealous.
Easton was out for the rest of the week, traveling to different states to attend meetings and conferences. Despite the fact I’ve missed seeing his handsome face around, I’ve gotten a lot of things done here.
I’ve also spoken to him several times, which quells the need to see him…to an extent.
The man has a large list of demands when it comes to his comfort in a hotel. Suite rooms with king-sized beds, large bathrooms, in-room minibar, a desk, room service, a private gym, and it has to be close to the airport. He goes an extra mile to make himself comfortable for a night or two. Thankfully, Easton was patient and offered guidance since he had already been to several of these places before.
Even with his help, I was nervous as hell. His happiness hinged on my ability to find what he wanted miles away, without ever stepping foot in them. Sure, the Internet has photos, virtual tours, and testimonies, but we all know how fake they can be.
Through the headache of calling around and booking the rooms, the “thank you” I received every night from him was gratifying on a different level. It caused a shiver of arousal to slide down my spine and explode over my skin with goosebumps in its wake.
I made plans with Britney yesterday to have drinks tonight. After this week’s high-strung hotel hunting, meeting with David, the project manager to get updates on several projects and preparing a few reports, I seriously need to decompress.
After her quick knock, Britney barges in. She’s squeezed into a pair of black leather leggings and a loose fitting, sleeveless tan shirt. Her fiery red hair is pulled up into a ponytail with the top braided.
“Change of plans. Ken’s going to be at the club tonight. Let’s go somewhere else, somewhere more low-key,” she says.
The day after she hooked up with him, she came over complaining about how terrible he was in bed. He had no rhythm and was super uncoordinated, so after she faked her way through it, she acted as if she wasn’t feeling well and made him leave.
Although Britney feels he was a horrible fuck, the opinion isn’t mutual. He calls her a lot and wants more, begging for her to be a routine booty call. Britney isn’t ashamed of who she is or what she does and has blatantly told him he was only supposed to be a one-night fling. Yeah, he’s still being persistent.
I titter. “Is he still bothering you?”
“Yeesss…” she groans. “I’m such a bitch.”
“I don’t think so. You were upfront with him from the beginning. He’s just a dumb man.”
She wobbles her head from shoulder to shoulder. “Men are so stupid. So instead of the club, let’s hit up Lucy’s.”
My brows jump high. “The richy bar? That’s not your normal style.”
She tightens her lips and nods. “Exactly. Maybe by changing up my style, I’ll get a better taste of what’s out there.”
I should’ve known she had something else up her sleeve—a reason behind her sudden change of lifestyle.
He’s tall, clean cut, clean shaven with mystifying dark eyes and a smile spreading from ear to ear. His name is Garret and she’s using all her lines on him. He slides our drinks across the bar and leans, placing his elbows on the bar to listen to what she’s saying.
As she chats him up, I scan the room. It’s not loud here. There’s music playing and the tables are pretty full, but the chatter isn’t as overwhelming as it is in a night club. It’s more relaxed and I could definitely get used to this.
“Let’s get a table.” Britney links her arm with mine and takes the lead.
That’s Britney—a leader. Never follows. She controls her time, her space, and most of the time, her emotions. She never meets a stranger, always talking to people like she’s known them for years, and it was no different when we first met. I was new to the building and had just come back from the grocery store when Britney ran right into me and I dropped my bags. You’d think her first words would’ve been “I’m sorry,” but they weren’t. Instead, she unashamedly spouted, “Shouldn’t have been looking at this picture of peen or I would’ve seen you, huh?” Then she brazenly turned the phone around to show me. It was definitely peen, well-hung, rock solid, peen…
We’ve been best friends ever since.
“He’s cute, don’t you think?” She grins, tipping her chin toward the bar.
“He is. Like really cute. Where’d you meet him?” I ask.
“We met two days ago at the supermarket. I stopped to grab a few things and there he was. It was like the heavens opened up on the cereal aisle and dropped him in front of me. Super swoon worthy moment,” she says. “He looked at me. I looked at him. It was like a movie.”
I titter. “Well, take your time with him and see where it leads.”
I can always offer good advice…
She scrunches her nose. “Had I taken my time with Ken, I would’ve wasted my time. I’d rather get the sex application out of the way and then we’ll work on the sparks.”
…doesn’t mean she’ll take the advice.
I laugh, dropping my head back. “You’ve got it all backward.”
She raises a shoulder. “I know. I like it this way. You know, test drive the car before buying it.”
I laugh as I rub my forehead.
“Sooo…. what’s it like working for Easton Langley? You must have some juicy secrets? Does he like to fuck on his desk? Anything of that nature?”
I drop my hand to the table and look at her like she’s lost her mind. “Seriously, Brit? Like I’m at his door with my ear pressed against it?”
“Yeah. Exactly like that,” she says biting back a giggle. “Wonder how he sounds?”
I bark a laugh. “Oh my God. You’re—”
“Ragging and have a freakish need to fill my horny void. Deal with it,” she snorts.
“Won’t that mess things up for you and Garret?”
Her eyes shift past my shoulder and her face lights up. “Trust me. I’ll find another way to drive the car tonight.” She finishes in a whisper just as Garret slides in the booth beside her.
“Hey, gorgeous. I’m glad you could come,” he says.
Cue overplayed, over-practiced, breathy giggles, hair twisting, flirty thing she does. “You look scrumptious in your work uniform.”
He looks down at himself. “You think? I feel like I’m attending a funeral in it.”
Black shirt. Black pants. I agree with him.
She leans in closer to him and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it was has his eyes flashing wide, and he licks his lips. “I’ll be off in an hour. They shift us around on the weekends.”
Her face pinches in confusion. “I’ve never heard of a bar rotating their bartenders.”
“Tonight, James and I came in at five. We’ll get off at eleven. The other two bartenders will work from eleven to three. Tomorrow, we switch.” He shrugs. “The tips are balanced that way. I like it.” He bends to her ear, his lips moving against her skin as he whispers something.
See? Invisible.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” I say as I slide out of the booth.
I wash my hands and dry them before pushing out of the bathroom. Immediately, I slam against a solid frame.
“Oh!” I gasp, losing my balance and stumbling backward.
A hard grip lands on my shoulder and steadies me. Deep and dark, catastrophic brown eyes smile at me.
“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” I stammer.
His chiseled face shifts, his lips pulling up into a sinful smile. “No need to apologize,” he says, keeping his hand on my shoulder. “Are you good? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
His voice is deep and sexy, his eyes steely but in a confident way. He’s hot, super fricking hot.
“Only my pride.” I scrunch my face before flashing a smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
There’s a familiarity about him, but I can’t place my thumb on it. I know I’ve seen him before, and I’m not talking about resembling the starring image in my fantasies. I feel like I should know him, and with a handsome face like his, there’s no way I should forget it.
When he takes his hand away and moves it for me to shake, I immediately want its warmth back. “I’m Zachary.”
“Zoey.” His hand envelopes mine, squeezing gently.
“That’s a beautiful name.” His eyes narrow with titillating intent and I all but want to throw myself against him. “Beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
My cheeks are on fire.
“Can I buy you a drink?” His voice is deep and husky, burning desire into my core.
“Sure,” I reply a little breathless.
Garret hasn’t made it back from Britney as we slide up to the bar. “Do you like shots?” he asks and I nod. “Hard or soft?”
I blink up to him, feeling aroused by his choice of words. “Hard.” I bite my lip.
He watches my mouth with a raised brow, and then licks his lips before ripping his gaze away and ordering two shots of tequila.
I slam it back, the liquid setting fire to my throat as courage drips into my soul. He asks what I’m drinking and orders it, but when the bartender slides it over, Zachary holds it hostage, moving it closer to him.
“I just bought you a drink, which means you have to come back to my table and drink it with me.”
Oh, he’s a sly dog.
I rock back on my heel and rest my hand on my hip. “Is that so?”
“Chapter nine, article four-point seven page ninety-eight: Who receives said bought drink must enjoy it with the buyer.” He spreads his arms to the side, grinning like the charmer he is. “It’s written.”
I purse my lips. “Do you have said handbook?”
His lips tug up victoriously. “I do at my table.”
Oh, he’s good.
I puff a giggle. “Then lead the way.”
Satisfaction is all over his handsome face as he guides me by the elbow toward an entrance to another room.
“Zoey…” He tastes my name slowly. “Would you happen to work at Langley Security?”
My gait skips and cements me in spot. “Um, yeah?”
He smothers a laugh and flashes a megawatt smile. “Come on. Let’s go have some fun.”
With my elbow in his hand, he starts walking but I tug back. “We need to define fun. Fun can mean anything,” I stammer, afraid he’s got the wrong idea of me.
He shakes his head. “Definitely not what you were just thinking.” He laughs. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this, Zoey.”
Could be the way he says my name, or the sexy spell he’s been utilizing, but something about him I trust. I rub my lips together as I glance around before giving in.
We enter the room, my pulse high from the wariness of the unknown, the uncertainty pushing my curiosity. There are several tables lining a long wall of connecting black leather booths. TVs are hanging everywhere, the largest on the far back wall with commentators from Fox News Sports with the captions running the ticker below them.
We turn the corner into a smaller room tucked off the side and my heart leaps to the back of my throat.
Easton Langley…
Suddenly, the face of Zachary registers.
“Oh my god,” I stop, turning my back toward Easton to hide my face. “You’re Zachary Calloway. I knew I recognized you.”
A deep rumble vibrates his throat. “The one and only.”
“I’m not going over there,” I say. “It’ll be awkward.”
“Aw. Play with me, Zoey,” he whines super sexily. “This will be fun. Go with it.”
“Awkward is your definition of fun? Please tell me how.”
He grins. “Trust me,” he whispers with a wink.
I give in. What for? The hell if I know.
Easton’s grinning at a brunette with a little pink shirt holding down her boobs when we approach. He glances up to Zachary before shifting his view to me. Instantly, his face freezes, surprise widening his green eyes, and his smile melts away forming a straight line.
“This is Zoey,” Zachary introduces me straight-faced and pulls out my seat.
My nerves are through the roof, a tremble running the length of my body.
Easton shifts, removing his arm from around the woman. “Zoey.” He nods, his voice firm, before glaring at Zachary.
Zachary looks smug as he hangs his arm over the back of my chair and leans in close. “I seem to have misplaced the handbook,” he whispers with his mouth next to my ear.
Easton’s jaw juts as he clenches it. Anger begins to highlight the outer edge of his green irises. He’s not as cool and collected as he normally is. Instead he’s rigid and tense.
I swallow, hoping like hell Zachary knows what he’s doing, and then grin to him. “Guess I have to take your word for it.” My voice quivers slightly.
He tips his beer. “Trust me. If it isn’t in there, I’ll make sure to have it added before you read it. Tell me, Zoey. What do you do for a living?” His expression is cunning, his tone deliberate.
Something in Easton switches—his edges rounding off as the tenseness dilutes into interest. He traps me with an amused gaze, staring at me over his glass.
I’m confused by the look and the feeling of it all. It’s as if he’s miserable I’m sitting here, proprietorially watching me. It sends a frisky rush through me to play Zachary’s game.
“I recently was hired as an executive assistant, but soon gopher and personal delegator were added to my duties.” I hear the words I’m saying but am surprised at my brazenness. I’m making myself squirm under the skin.
Zachary’s brows knit together. “When you say gopher…” he circles his hand insinuating for me to elaborate.
I shrug. “As of late, I pick up dry cleaning, organize home maintenance, order lunch and dinners. I’m a personal concierge outside my professional duties.”
Zachary grunts. “Sounds like a shit boss. Has to be a lazy dickhead. I mean, I own my business and do all my private affairs myself. I’ve never asked my assistant to bring me coffee. I’ve got two legs. I can do it myself.”
“Even if she offers to do it for you?” Easton grumbles, challenging his friend.
“Actually, I want to do it,” I interject.
Zachary’s eyes narrow. “The dude still sounds like a lazy asshole.”
I choke on my drink as a giggle bursts from me. Easton’s mirth is jaded, his eyes skipping between Zachary and me.
“I don’t think he’s lazy. He works too much and too hard to be,” I say.
“Wait.” Easton jerks, sitting up and leaning an elbow on the table. “But you think he’s an asshole?” Solemnness laces his expression.
I can’t tell if he’s playing the victim or seriously sincere. “As he’s said, he has good and bad days just like everyone else.”
“But do you not try lifting his spirits?” he asks and it’s there, somewhere mixed in the question, his acknowledgment and appreciation that I do.
I tilt my head. “Yes, even when he’s being a dickhead.”
I cringe inwardly, certain it’s the alcohol making me brave.
Zachary drops his head back and barks a hefty laugh. “Max is going to hate he missed this shit.” He nudges me. “I know for a fact your boss is a dickheaded prick.”
Easton laughs as do I.
Zachary tips his head to the side. “So, this is your Zoey…” he asks Easton.
His Zoey?
The curve on Easton’s lips is mischievous and he glances to me when he nods. The proud possessiveness it holds sends a shiver down my spine and causes a cold chill.
My phone chirps and I slide it out of my pocket.
Britney: Did you fall in?
Me: No. I’ll be there in a second.
Shoving it back into my pocket, I glance to Zachary. “I’m curious. How’d you know who I was?”
There’s a split-second glimpse to Easton before he answers. “I’ve never heard the name until you started working for him.”
“But it’s a common name,” I say, questioning him.
He flashes a lopsided smile. “As I stated before, beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
Easton and I share a stare and it overwhelms my senses. Electricity crackles my spine, tickling the muscles around it. The feeling—a swirling stagger—is intense, but is interrupted by big boobs in the pink shirt when she rests her chin on his shoulder and says something.
His body tenses…
And it reminds me he’s my boss.
I shove to my feet. “Thanks for the drinks, but I need to get going,” I stammer. “Do you want me to leave it here since it’s nullifying article four point seven?”
He tips his beer at me with a smirk. “Take it. It’s my thank you for running into me and making my night.” He winks.
“Thank you,” I smile. I’m barely able to look at Easton when I say, “I’ll see you Monday.”
I rush out with an extra pep in my step from the high of adrenaline and make my way back to the booth where Britney waits for me.
I’m grinning like an idiot bouncing into my seat. “You’re never going to guess what insane thing just happened,” I bubble out and don’t wait for her response. “I ran into Zachary Calloway. The Zachary Calloway. Literally ran into him.” I clap my hands demonstrating. “I apologized and then he bought me a drink.”
“Wait,” she interrupts. “You run into him and he buys you a drink for doing it?”
“Yep,” I chirp. “But that’s not the best part. He took me back to his table and guess who was there?”
Her eyes widen. “Easton Langley?”
I nod.
She slaps her hands over her mouth as she laughs. “Oh, god. Awkward.”
“Completely. But somehow Zachary knew who I was before taking me back. It’s like he was trying to get under Easton’s skin.”
Her brows furrow. “For what?”
I lift my shoulders. “I don’t know. He was shocked, but mad. Does that make sense?”
“Does Easton have a crush on you?” she asks.
I can’t help but laugh. “No. Think about how weird it would be for him if his friend dated his assistant.”
She blinks and tilts her head like I’ve just said the stupidest thing. But she doesn’t have time to respond. Garret appears at the table. “You ready?”
Britney springs to her feet. “Garret said he’d give us a lift home. Our chariot awaits.”