Chapter One
Mason
The early morning light shines through the floor to ceiling glass windows, in the office that should be mine, as a paper copy of Liv Marx’s schedule for the day drops onto her neatly organized desk. It seems ludicrous to be here an hour before her, but if I don’t complete all that’s required before she arrives, then I’ll be forced to listen to her bitch all day long. Nobody wants that. God forbid she looks at the online calendar I update every morning for her or doesn’t have a piping hot cup of black coffee waiting at precisely eight o’clock when she arrives for the day. I’ve been on the end of her wrath, and it’s not pretty. You would think she wouldn’t be such a bitch…she knows my father is a partner at this firm, which is why I hardly ever take her rants seriously.
It really sucks having to cater to a woman whose job you desperately wanted. Over twenty years ago, my dad started Finn, Vale, and Sidman Firm with two of his buddies from college. I thought I would have an in. That I wouldn’t have to be the assistant to a woman who graduated just two years before me at the University of Virginia. We both graduated with honors and received our Bachelors in Architecture but instead of hiring me on the spot, like I thought my dad would, he made me her assistant. His reason? As the head of the firm, he doesn’t want to show favoritism, and I need to “work my way from the bottom” like he did. What a bunch of bullshit. So, now instead of designing buildings and printing up my own appointments for the day, I’m scheduling them for someone who doesn’t appreciate how much I fucking tolerate from her. I know I need to be patient, bide my time and play my cards right so my dad will see me taking it seriously, but sometimes Liv makes it too damn hard. Not to mention she is hot as hell, which makes me hard.
We call her The Siren, which fits her to the exact definition in the dictionary: a seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men. Beautiful, fuck yes. Her long auburn hair is usually pulled back into some low bun at the nape of her neck or falls in waves after work hours when she thinks no one is still in the office. Her dark green eyes offset the freckles that are haphazardly strewn about her heart-shaped face. Her body, which is tight and toned from taking spin classes every morning at five thirty, is usually hidden by the skirt suits she wears that are just one size too big. I suspect, hell I know, it’s so people take her seriously in this mostly testosterone-fueled workplace.
I pick up a picture on her desk. It’s the only one she keeps here, and I get semi-hard every time I look at it. The image of her on the beach, with her hair pulled up into a mess of curls, in a barely there bikini on the beach of Bermuda, has been the star of my late night fantasies recently. Despite how much of a bitch she is sometimes, this captured moment in time shows how sexy she is underneath the mask she wears around the office. At times when she is going off on one of her tangents, I imagine her in this swimsuit, on her knees, taking my cock into her mouth to shut her up. When I’m alone, I fantasize about putting duct tape over her mouth and watching her writhe in front of me as I take her from behind. There is something seriously twisted about masturbating to images of your boss, who on a good day you barely tolerate, but I know the hate fucking would set us on fire. I think I see it sometimes from her as well. The way she bites her lip when I lean over her or the shudder of her body when I squeeze by her in the staff lounge. She may be a hardass, but she is still a woman. A feisty, smart, dedicated, hardworking shrew of a woman and for some unknown reason, despite all that, I’ve recently taken to liking her on a deeper level.
The elevator chimes from down the hallway alerting me that someone is arriving. I don’t have to glance down the hall to know it’s her since there isn’t anyone else who would think twice about coming in the office before nine o’clock in the morning. I guess in her quest to prove herself, she decided that getting here an hour before everyone would show how dedicated she is to the job, thus making her assistant arrive an hour and a half earlier to do menial things that I could do throughout the normal working hours. Like opening her blinds, watering her plants, and making sure all her pens are facing the right way. I think she has a touch of OCD if you ask me. In doing all this, do I get to leave early? Hell no. While most in the office have an eight to nine hour work day, mine is almost eleven. On salary, not hourly. I’m the first in and last out. She doesn’t even allow me to take more than an hour for lunch to make up for the extra time I give in the morning. I just can’t wait to finally acquire my own accounts one day and get out from underneath this frustratingly beautiful woman.
That last thought brings more dirty thoughts into my head. I close my eyes involuntarily and picture her straddling me as I sit in her chair. Her head is thrown back in ecstasy as I grip her hips and slam them onto my own. Her breasts bounce, and I slide my tongue out taking in what I imagine is a pretty pink nipple. My breathing deepens with each second I live out this fantasy, but it’s all washed away as soon as I hear her speak, which is why in most of my fantasies I cover her mouth.
“Mason.” She calls from the doorway, forcing me to look her way. “What the hell are you doing in my office?”
Standing upright, I look her over from head to toe. She’s as polished as she is every other day when she arrives. Showered after her break of dawn workout, her hair is perfectly placed, eye makeup done precisely, with red lips to match her red skirt suit. Her emerald irises take me in with venom as though I have already pissed her off with just my presence. I have to admit it’s hot. There have been times when she comes in like a raging lunatic, I want to walk over to her, pull her hair out of its confines and twist it up between my fingertips and draw her head backward before biting her bottom lip. I know there should be therapists lining up to try to figure out why I want to claim this woman when she has such distaste for me, but I think it’s the challenge. I love a good challenge.
“Good morning to you too, Ms. Marx.” I greet her with just as much malice. “I’m setting your printed schedule on your desk because it seems to be impossible for you to click the icon on your computer to find it, and I’ve made your coffee. I hope you enjoy my spit in it.”
She lets out a loud huff and storms toward her desk essentially squeezing me out of her way. “You’re lucky your dad is my boss. I would have fired you months ago.”
I invade her personal space, my chest grazing the side of her as she picks up her schedule. “Don’t kid yourself, Liv. No one else would put up with your bullshit.”
As if on cue her body shivers at the slight contact. It’s just the reaction I was hoping for. She may be my superior, but if I ever got her in bed, I’d show her who’s boss. She takes one look at the picture I was just holding and picks it up. “Looking again at what you can’t have, I see.”
I scoff, taking it from her hand and setting it back down. “More like reminding myself that underneath that tough, bitchy exterior, there is a real-life human.”
Ignoring my jab, she takes a seat in her chair, sliding her legs underneath the desk. One look at her coffee in the FVS logo paper cup and she dumps its contents into the trash can.
“I’d like you to make a fresh pot and bring me a new cup when it’s ready.” She commands before firing up her computer.
I start to walk away, no longer wanting to poke the bear but she catches me just before I hit the door. “And I’d love it if none of your bodily fluids were in my coffee.”
My brows raise, my mind going to deep and dark places. “Well where would you like my bodily flu…”
She holds her finger up to stop me from what words are coming next. “Mason, just go.”
I laugh all the way down the hall. It’s still eerily quiet, but I know soon this place will be bustling with men and women making the world more beautiful one building at a time. It makes me jealous. I know what my father is trying to do will help me in the long run. Paying my dues will give me the knowledge I need to know about the ins and outs of the business and hopefully, one day, I will become a partner. I just wish I didn’t have to work for a woman who when I see I want to stick my foot out and trip while simultaneously hoping it’s into a bed with me. Don’t get me wrong. This job is not beneath me. All I want is for my learning experience to be a positive one.
Skipping the fresh pot request, I pour her more coffee after filling a second cup for myself and throwing creamer in mine. The elevator dings once again as I pass by bringing in the first wave of assistants and architects. I spot Mia Vale, a fellow errand runner and coffee retriever. She, like myself, is another spawn of a partner. Her dad, Mr. Vale, is a longtime friend of my dad’s so Mia and I grew up together. Unlike me, she just finished up her junior year of college and is helping out on her summer break. A long time ago, she asked me on a date. Very brave on her part, but I just wasn’t interested. She is beautiful with blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and a brain to rival the masterminds here, but she’s too sweet. I just don’t have any other explanation for it.
“Hey, Mase.” She smiles while we walk alongside one another down the hall. “How’s your morning been?”
I raise the hot beverages. “Well, The Siren believed me when I said I spit in her coffee so it’s been a good day.”
She laughs at that. “Always messing with her. One day you’re going to get fired.”
I shrug. “I doubt it. I think deep down she really likes me.” I tell her with a wink.
Dropping my coffee onto my desk, I turn to take Liv hers. She looks at her computer and her brow is furrowed as she appears deep in thought. I say nothing when I set it down and she doesn’t look up when she says, “I need the Towne Center blueprints.”
I pause. “Please?”
Her eyes slowly rise to meet mine and she cocks her head to the side. “Please, what?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m telling you to ask me nicely.”
She laughs. “Okay, Mason. Can you please do your job and get me the damn TC blueprints?”
“Of course, Liv. I’d love to.”
I don’t know why I push her buttons but to me it’s fun. Walking to her filing cabinet, I reach in and find what I’m looking for. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I drop the blue folder onto her desk before I make my way out. Halfway to the door, I read the text that came in.
Ryan: Don’t forget to ask for the 4th of July weekend off.
My head falls back in defeat. It’s exactly two weeks from today and yesterday was the cut off to ask for more than one day off in a row. I take a big breath and turn in the doorway.
“Liv?” I call out, my voice laced with sweetness. Most wouldn’t call their bosses by their first name, but she insists and I only use Ms. Marx when I want to piss her off. Or Livvy. That one really irritates her.
“Mason?” She responds, tapping her pen against the desk in annoyance.
My shoulder hits the doorframe as I lean into it. I’ve been quite the dick this morning, and I just have a feeling this isn’t going to go my way.
“I need off July 3rd to the 7th,” I say it as a statement rather than a question. She seems to respond better that way. “I’d like to go to Lake Gaston for the week.”
The fourth is on a Tuesday, so my buddies and I rented a cabin on the lake for the whole week.
She does something I’ve never heard her do. She fucking snorts. “Yeah, right, Mason. Leave me to work.”
I step forward. “I’m not joking. I haven’t taken off any days since I started here last year.”
She stands. “I’ve not either. I’ve got too much going on that week and I need you here. Plus, today is Tuesday. You’re less than two weeks out to ask off for more than one day in a row.”
I know that there is nothing I can say to her right now. She’s right. I was supposed to request by yesterday and going to my father isn’t an option. He won’t step in and I would never ask him to.
Even though I am trying to stay even-tempered I can’t help my next question or the rest of the shit that comes out of my mouth after that. “Do you need help with that?”
She looks around, confused. “Do I need help with what?”
I take a few steps closer and point down toward her hips. “I was asking if you need help pulling that large stick out of your ass. Seems like it may be wedged up there really good.”
I can see her face begin to turn a faint shade of red. She’s pissed. Her heels click on the floor of her office as she comes around her desk and gets dangerously close to my face. “Get out of my office. I don’t have a stick up my ass, Mason. You’re just pissed that you actually have to do something around here.”
Her nearness takes me by surprise. This is the closest her face has ever been to mine and it takes all I have not to close the distance and give us both what I believe we want. Instead I say, “So, if it’s not a stick that’s making you so damn uptight, then maybe you need to get fucked. And good.” My eyes dart to the floor to ceiling windows. “Maybe up against that glass.”