CHAPTER FOUR
Having a man you fantasize about on a pretty regular basis in your flat for the first time is definitely a bucket list moment.
The moment would be even sweeter if the reason he was standing in here was because he was about to have his way with me in every corner of my home.
A girl can dream.
I watch Michael from the corner of my eye as he walks through my place and lingers over family photos, mementos I’ve put up, and the artwork I’ve collected over the years. After what feels like an eternity, he turns to me with a smile.
“Your home is beautiful, Abby. You have impeccable taste.”
“Thank you.”
Why I’m so happy he likes my taste is beyond me. But his compliment has filled with me such pleasure that you’d think he just asked me to marry him.
“Can I bring you a coffee or tea?” I ask him. “Something to eat? I have to go shopping, but I think I have some cheese and crackers.”
“I’m fine,” Michael says as he shakes his head and looks down at his watch. “I was teasing you downstairs. I just had to satisfy my curiosity. I have to leave for my meeting.”
“Of course.” I nod in understanding. I can’t lie. I am disappointed that he has to leave so soon. I stand in the center of my living room and wait.
“But you haven’t shown me the rest of your place,” he tells me as he looks around the room.
“The rest?” I ask, feeling my heart pick up its pace.
“The bedrooms.” His eyes are hooded.
How did I know he was going to ask?
“You don’t mind, do you?” He cocks his head to the side, his gaze inscrutable.
“No,” I practically gasp out. “The bedrooms are this way.”
I motion toward the wide hall that veers off toward the guest bedroom, then my own room. I can hear Michael’s footsteps behind me. Act cool, Abigail, I tell myself as my body warms up.
My heart beats fast.
I can feel myself begin to perspire.
Everywhere.
I can barely walk like a normal person.
All because the walking sex god, who haunts my every dream, is literally two steps behind me.
Right about to walk into my bedroom.
Is this what an anxiety attack feels like?
“Here’s my bedroom.” My throat is parched. “Simple, really.”
It’s the only thing I can think to say.
Michael comes up right next to me and stands in front of my four-poster oak bed and crosses his arms. I look at my room as if I’m seeing it for the first time. White linens and a white quilt, with a pale blue throw and matching pillows. An ivory fainting couch sits by the large French window that stares out onto the park. A round metal table is next to it, the book I’ve been reading sitting on top. The artwork in my room only consists of two modern pieces above both antique side tables next to my bed. I have a framed picture of my father and me when I was just born on one of the nightstands next to a matching pale blue lamp.
And on the other, my…
Vibrator!
Holy. Shit.
My eyes are glued to the mortifying hot pink pleasure toy that sits so innocently on my nightstand.
I would like to die now, God.
Quickly.
Like now.
I know the moment Michael’s gaze finds the offending object.
I can’t even bring myself to look at him. It’s like all the oxygen is sucked out of the room and breathing will never be an option again. He inhales so quickly that if I weren’t so in tune with his every movement, I wouldn’t have heard the noise.
He’s looking at it, I think to myself.
Oh. My. God.
I tell myself over and over that it’s not a big deal. I’m a grown woman. Masturbation is a healthy activity. It’s completely normal.
And it’s not like this is the first vibrator he’s ever seen!
When I finally gain the confidence to look at Michael, I’m surprised by what I see.
I was fully expecting him to tease me.
To have to bear through his mocking, sexy grin.
But it’s actually quite the opposite.
His eyes are cold.
His jaw tight as he exhales and his blue eyes darken as they skim over my face.
“I have to go,” he says abruptly. “I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”
He turns quickly and walks out of my room, down the hall, to my front door. I barely have time to catch up to him. He opens the door and steps out, standing tall before he reaches the elevator.
“I’m confident I’ll keep you satisfied.”
“I’m sorry?” I feel my cheeks heat at the innuendo.
“Your new position,” he says as he turns his sizzling gaze to mine.
I can’t read his expression.
And I don’t understand if he’s playing some sort of game with me, or if I’m reading into everything. But I am one hundred percent positive something about seeing my vibrator has dampened his mood.
“With me,” Michael continues.
“I don’t doubt it,” I hold his gaze, wondering if he can hear the longing in my voice.
If he realizes how I’m so turned on I can’t wait for him to leave. If he knows I want to run back to my room and put myself out of my misery with that vibrator he seems to dislike immensely—the vibrator that happens to be my new best friend.
“See you tomorrow.” He smirks at me. “Have an eventful evening.”
Right.
There’s no doubt to what he’s referring to.
I watch his tall frame walk to the elevator and force myself to shut the door. I fall against it and listen to the elevator door ding. Once I know Michael’s gone, I let out a breath.
I am so in trouble.
Just how the hell am I going to survive working with that man every day?
***
“You have an hour for lunch,” Mrs. Lions, the pleasant woman who heads up Human Resources, tells me as she gives me a tour of the office.
I follow Mrs. Lions as she zips through the office.
For my first day on the job, I’m wearing a navy, knee-length pencil skirt, matching sweater, with fitted over-the-knee brown suede high-heeled boots. I pulled my long hair back into a low bun and wore minimal makeup. I feel like I look the part and I want Michael to see me as responsible and ready to take on my new position. And not think I’m trying too hard.
“This way, Abby,” Mrs. Lions says as she takes me up another elevator from the second-floor Human Resource office.
Mrs. Lions is in her late forties and extremely helpful. She couldn’t be nicer, patiently listening to all my questions and going out of her way to assure me that Mr. Sinclair would not have hired me if he didn’t believe I could do the job. What she doesn’t know is that my objections and lack of faith come from my secret fear of not being able to handle the raw sex appeal that my new boss embodies.
When Michael left my flat yesterday, I ordered a pizza, opened a bottle of wine and spent the rest of the day and night panicking over my new predicament. How was I going to survive living in a state of perpetual arousal? How was I going to start dating when I’d be around him every single day?! After my fifth helping of pizza—I should have stopped at two slices—I came up with the only logical solution that could work. Stay at this job for a few months, learn as much as I can and then find another more appropriate place to be employed. Once I gain more experience under my belt, I’ll be able to find something much easier.
Simple. Easy.
A foolproof plan.
In the interim, I told myself, I’d just have to figure out a way to survive it. I’d just have to pretend that Michael is married and off-limits.
My confidence worked until I got to the office and became immersed in Michael’s world.
And then everything seemed to fly out the window.
It’s astounding how quickly I learned he didn’t have a girlfriend.
Apparently, not even dating anyone.
At least that’s what I heard some of the interns whispering about when I went to the commissary for a coffee in the morning. And that’s another thing—it seems that I’m not the only female in the building that is insanely attracted to him. Any breathing and single male or female employee seems to suffer from the same problem I do.
At least I’m not alone…
Who am I kidding?
I want Michael for myself. Just me. And now I secretly view the rest of the women in the office as competition. And as Georgie pointed out so eloquently a few nights earlier, the crazy female in me who is apparently a nudge away from rearing her ugly head just might decide to take center stage.
At any moment. The thought is chilling.
I think about my competition.
There is the young American, Jessica—the intern with the perfect body who’s quite aware of this genetic blessing of hers. Her jeans and tops couldn’t be any tighter. And today I noticed she’s wearing a full face of diva fuck-me-hard makeup.
Jessica’s best friend in the office is Marina, an intern from Madrid, who I learned from Mrs. Lions is here for course credit for her university. Of course, she’s also equally blessed in the looks department and has a chest that you can’t help but stare at in awe. I have never been self-conscious about my breasts because they are pretty amazing but compared to Marina…
And that’s it.
The problem.
I haven’t been on the job for even a day and I’m already comparing myself to every single woman here. I’m unconsciously narrowing down my competition, potential females who Michael might be attracted to.
Georgie was right, all my crazy alter ego ever needed was a nudge, and she would be awakened in all her frightening glory.
“You will be Mr. Sinclair’s number one,” Mrs. Lions tells me as we make our way back to my desk.
“Number one?” I ask in confusion.
“I thought Mr. Sinclair might have mentioned this to you earlier, but I guess not.”
“No,” I shake my head.
“Mr. Sinclair has two PA’s,” she explains. “His number one sits outside his office, and number two takes any calls that number one misses and takes care of personal business matters.”
“Where is number two?” I ask feeling foolish referring to someone as a number and not a name.
“I’m taking you to her now. Danielle has been with Mr. Sinclair for five years. She is now his longest lasting PA. Wanda, who just left, was his number one before.”
“Forgive me for asking, but why is Danielle not his number one?” I ask the obvious. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for me to be number two?”
I would so much more prefer that. Not having to sit directly outside his office, being able to hide away somewhere in the back of the office—talk about the ideal situation for me.
“It was Mr. Sinclair’s decision.” Mrs. Lions face does not betray what she’s thinking.
We walk to an office that is located at the far end of Michael’s. The doors are glass, and I can see a pretty dark haired woman who I think is in her early thirties sitting behind a glass desk facing a giant desktop.
Mrs. Lions knocks on the door and the woman nods welcomingly. We enter her pristine office.
“Danielle, I’d like you to meet Abby,” Mrs. Lions says as she motions toward me.
“Nice to meet you, Abby,” Danielle says with a wide, welcoming smile. I can’t say I’m not surprised to see it. I thought she might be resentful that I had usurped her number one position. I wouldn’t blame her—I probably would be after five years.
Up close, Danielle isn’t just pretty. She’s beautiful. Her face is soft and quite stunning. She reminds me of the actress Zoe Saldana.
“Please, have a seat,” she offers politely.
“Can I leave you to it?” Mrs. Lions asks, looking at her watch. “My schedule is packed this morning. I’ve given Abby a general overview of the company and how things work, but thought you might be best suited to talk to her about Mr. Sinclair’s needs.”
“Of course,” Danielle smiles graciously.
“Wonderful. I’ll be seeing you, Abby. Welcome to the company.”
“Thank you for showing me around, Mrs. Lions,” I tell her gratefully. I like her. She seems very nice.
Plus, she’s happily married.
I’m so not crazy.
Mrs. Lions leaves Danielle and me alone. As Danielle studies me, I can’t help but shuffle uncomfortably.
“We’re excited to have you here with us, Abby.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m really grateful to be here and want to do a good job for Mich… Mr. Sinclair.”
Danielle smiles as she catches my slip.
“I know you guys are cousins,” she tells me. “Michael filled me in when I saw him last night.”
My stomach drops to the floor. He saw her last night? I wouldn’t be surprised if he were dating this bombshell.
“I just got engaged,” she goes on to tell me. To my great relief as she shows me her sparkly ring. “I had my party last night, and Michael’s one of my best mates from school. I am so grateful you’re starting now and can take away some of the pressure off of me since I’m planning my wedding and all. It’s been a little overwhelming trying to handle all of this on my own.”
“I was just there,” I tell her with sympathy. “I completely understand how crazy a wedding can get.”
Danielle seems surprised as her gaze flickers to my wedding finger and lack of a ring.
“You’re married?”
“No,” I shake my head awkwardly. “We broke up before the day actually arrived.”
“Ahh,” Danielle says knowingly as she meets my gaze. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Understandable. So I’ll just go over some quick things with you.”
For the next hour, she goes over my job duties with me. From what I understand I’ll be scheduling Michael’s meetings and running his personal life. Everything Danielle explains to me is pretty straightforward and seems fairly easy to do. Once I find my rhythm, it shouldn’t be so bad. From what I understand, Danielle works on the more business related tasks for Michael. Keeping his deals in order. His appearances at events that will garner money for a charity and meetings in other countries with important dignitaries, or CEOs of companies. Also, if I miss a call, it is forwarded along to Danielle’s desk. From what I gather from Danielle, Michael is a pretty laid-back boss as long as things are getting done.
After she’s done filling me in, she gets up and walks me to my new space. It’s directly in front of Michael’s office. My glass desk faces the center room I walked through the day before where the Think Tank is set up. There is a large desktop computer and a phone. There’s also a leather-bound day calendar because, according to Danielle, Michael likes to have a hard copy backup with his schedule in it in case the computer system goes down.
“So here you are,” Danielle says with a kind smile. “ I think you’re going to do just fine here. I’m going to leave you to it to fiddle around on the system and become acclimated. Here are the instructions for setting up your voicemail and you’ve got your password for the computer. IT has come by already and synched Michael’s personal email to your account so you can start familiarizing yourself with his life.”
“Personal email?” I ask.
“Yes, Abby,” she says matter-of-factly. “That was his request. We both have access to his emails. Lyle from IT will be around shortly to answer any questions and help you navigate the system.”
“Great. Do you know when I should be expecting him?”
“I believe he’ll be in later this afternoon, which should give you plenty of time to get comfortable.”
I’m actually relieved I get to immerse myself in the job without Michael around to unnerve me. Danielle leaves me a short while later and before I can even turn my computer on, Lyle, the young IT guy, is there to go over passwords and protocol with me. He gives me a company cell phone, a personal laptop, and shows me how to use the network. It’s all fairly easy to navigate, and within no time I am up and running.
He opens Michael’s inbox on my computer and loads his personal contacts into my hard drive, and I’m good to go. The thought of going through Michael’s personal emails still feels strange. I avoid looking at his inbox and instead choose to read the resource book about the company that Mrs. Lions gave me earlier. I’m quickly impressed with all the work the foundation has done around the world. Michael’s really helped make a difference in people’s lives and for the planet itself.
I end up working straight through lunch and am reading up on company protocol when Michael finally shows up.
It’s after three o’clock when I hear his voice echoing through the room. I glance up from my reading material and see him standing next to the Think Tank chatting with Jessica. She assumes the instinctual flirtatious stance with him. Hip tilted to the side, hands on her narrow waist, finger twirling a strand of her hair.
It’s so obvious it practically induces vomit.
I have no right to be annoyed, I tell myself.
No right at all.
I hear her frilly little laugh and roll my eyes.
“Vulgar,” I mutter under my breath and flip through a page in the book.
I stare blindly down at the words and try to block out everything around me. You’re going to have to get used to this, I tell myself. This is going to be your life for the foreseeable future.
Demoralizing.
I reach for my cell phone, desperately needing to text Georgie for a power drink after work but stop when I feel someone walk behind my desk.
It’s Michael.
Standing directly behind my chair and essentially trapping me to the desk. He places his hand on the glass counter next to where mine rests frozen over my phone.
He leans down over my shoulder, his lips a breath away from my ear, his cologne invading my every sensory skill, his muscular body burning mine even though he isn’t even touching me.
I am so in trouble.
“What are you reading?” Michael’s voice is low and husky, his breath tickles my skin.
All I have to do…
All I have to do is turn my head and my lips will be right on his. For a moment I think about doing it… but then sanity…
Keep the crazy under control, Abigail.
Don’t let her out.
“Protocol,” I manage to croak out.
I hear Michael sigh as I remain utterly still.
“The rules, you mean?” he whispers.
“Yes.”
“What do you think of them?” I swear his lips are practically touching my ear and I know his gaze is on my flushed face. I can feel my nipples harden.
I am so turned on I don’t know what to do with myself.
“They seem good.” My voice is practically a whisper.
“What’s your favorite so far?”
The man is insane.
“I can’t remember.”
His wicked laughter in my ear wakes me up.
“No fraternization with the employees,” I blurt out.
I don’t even know if it’s a rule. But I have to say it, especially because somehow I know he’s doing this to me on purpose. And I still don’t understand how to play his game.
“Do you usually follow all the rules?” There’s almost a primal look in his eyes when he asks the question.
“I do.”
“That’s a shame.” Michael sounds disappointed.
And just like that, I’m robbed of his presence. He steps away from my desk and walks into his office.
“I’d like to speak to you for a moment in here,” he calls out over his shoulder before he disappears into his office.
I’m left panting with desire. Completely turned on. My entire body is on fire, and I wonder if I even have the energy to walk into his office. To face him this time.
See that mocking look in his eyes.
It’s too much.
Breathe, Abby. Just breathe.
Is this some sort of fun torturous game for him, I wonder? What is he doing to me? Flirting, turning me on…
And now he’s my boss.
My phone rings for the first time. It jolts me out of what could have been a quick spiral into fantasyland, a dangerous place that I know can only serve to further torture me.
“Michael Sinclair’s office,” I will my voice to be calm and professional.
“I’m waiting.” The sound of his sexy voice on the line jolts me right to my core.
My boss.
My tormentor.
My fantasy lover.
I put the phone down, pick up his calendar, and make my way to his office. I walk inside and try to leave the door open, but he stops me.
“Shut it.”
Lord.
I do as he says and stand next to the leather couch he’s sprawled on. His arms are stretched out over the top of the couch and the look on his face is playful.
“Have a seat.”
I sink into the chair opposite him.
“How has your day been?” he asks politely.
“Wonderful,” I return easily. “Mrs. Lions and Danielle couldn’t be more helpful. And I have to say, what you’re doing here is pretty impressive. You should be proud of the work you’ve accomplished.”
“There’s still so much that needs to be done,” Michael returns.
“But you’re helping make a change,” I tell him. “That’s a step in the right direction.”
“Are you complimenting me?” Michael gives me a teasing smile.
“Yes, I am.”
“Thank you,” he says softly. “It means a lot coming from you.”
It does?
“Have you had lunch?” Michael suddenly asks, changing the topic.
“Actually, I haven’t had a chance yet,” I shake my head. “Time flew by and I completely forgot. I wanted to acclimate myself with everything before you got here.”
Before I know what he’s doing, Michael picks up his cell phone and makes a quick call.
“I’d like a club sandwich and Caesar salad brought to my office,” he orders into the phone.
“That’s totally unnecessary,” I argue, but I’m touched by his thoughtfulness.
“It’s my job to keep you satisfied.”
I think my stomach flips over.
Michael throws the phone on the couch and folds his arms. I can’t decipher his look.
“How was your night?” I don’t miss the mocking tone in his voice.
“Fine, thank you,” I barely manage as I think about how he saw my vibrator last night. Talk about a giant elephant in the room. A vibrating one at that. I grip his calendar in one hand and click my pen hoping he’ll keep things professional and ask me to write something down.
“And yours?” I ask politely.
“Unsatisfactory.”
Don’t ask, Abby!
“Why?” Clearly, I’m glutton for punishment.
“I find myself to be in a state of acute frustration,” he tells me quietly. “It’s a feeling I don’t particularly enjoy.”
“Are you in the middle of a deal?”
“Fortunately, I closed the deal,” he says as his eyes blaze into mine. “I’m just working out the terms. It’s always the most tedious part of any negotiation.”
“Should I be familiar with it?” I ask him.
“You will be.”
The way he says that… it’s almost like he’s about to be in control of something.
Or someone.
“In fact, it will probably take up most of your time.” His voice is commanding.
“Is there any reading material you can give me?” I’m trying to keep our conversation as professional as possible. “I can take it home with me tonight and get up to speed.”
“You’re not ready yet,” he tells me, his eyes settling on my mouth, causing it to go dry. “But soon. Very soon.”
I think I hear a warning in his voice, but I can’t be sure. His gaze flicks down to the calendar I’m clutching.
“I take it Danielle filled you in on your job requirements.”
“Yes,” I’m happy he has changed the subject to something that feels safe.
“What did she tell you?”
“That I’ll be scheduling your meetings and seeing to your personal needs—”
Did that even come out right?
“I mean—” I stutter. “I’m taking care of whatever you might need outside the office.”
Michael grins.
“My extracurricular activities, you mean?”
“Yes.” I look down at the book again. I wonder if discussing his personal life will ever get easier with time. “Setting your dinner dates, making sure your life is in order. The usual duties of a PA.”
“And how are you feeling about everything?” Michael continues his cross-examination.
“Fine,” I say, plastering a smile on my face as I meet his gaze. “And appreciative, of course. Thank you again for giving me this chance.”
“Don’t thank me,” Michael says cryptically. “I never do anything I don’t want.”
“Still.” I know my voice sounds nervous. “I’m happy to be here, and I’m just looking forward to diving in.”
Michael watches me for a moment before a broad smile sweeps across his face.
“Perfect,” he says. “Then let’s get to it.”