Rose
I can become invisible—fade into the background—without even trying. It’s like a superpower of mine. I’m that faceless person in the crowd that goes unnoticed. The co-worker no one remembers. The girl that the waiter ignores. The last kid picked for every sport.
And I like it that way. I’m not sad or lonely. I have a great job, a few close friends online, an expensive vibrator, and a library of books I can disappear into whenever I want a little excitement in my life.
I wasn't bitten by a radioactive spider or blessed by a goddess. No, this power was born out of necessity; forged in the chaos of my childhood. I had to be invisible to survive.
I’m older now, and in a better place in my life, so it’s not necessary, but it does still have its advantages. I’m never the person people ask to host events or coordinate group functions. I don’t have to come up with a lame excuse to get out of my co-worker's baby shower. And I get a front row seat to most of the office gossip simply because people don’t realize I’m even there.
As a matter of fact, I’ve managed to turn that particular skill into an art form. I know who’s fighting and why, who’s sleeping around, and who just broke up. But my favorite subject of gossip is my bosses.
Leo Mason and Asher Knight. The two owners of Lash Equity could have been ripped from the pages of one my favorite smutty novels. Alpha, dominate, and bodies that would make a virgin nun reconsider her vows. If the world of finance had rock stars, they would be headliners.
And like rock stars, the two men revel in their bad boy reputations in and out of the boardroom. They stormed onto the field of finance in their twenties like hostile invaders and declared themselves victors. And since opening, that aggressive business style has made Lash Equity one of the fastest growing financial firms in the country.
That was why, despite the fact I’d had job offers at firms around the country after graduation, I decided to accept a low-paid internship with Lash. It’s almost impossible to get your foot in the door here. The staff is dedicated and fiercely loyal. They promote from within.
The internship is a bit like a corporate Hunger Games. The long hours—including weekends and holidays—wash out the less driven among the recruits. The rest of us are fighting for a coveted spot on the team.
But despite my hard work, I feel like I’m losing the game. It’s been nine months since I accepted the internship and moved halfway across the country, hoping to get my foot in the door. I still haven’t been offered a permanent job, but my direct supervisor loves me—even if I don’t quite fit in with the rest of the staff.
The entire office works hard, but they also party hard. I’ve never been around a group of people so uninhibited. Drinking during working hours, sex in the office store room... I’ve seen and heard it all. And Asher and Leo are no exception. The rumor around the office is that they shared everything, and I do mean everything. The company, their extravagant penthouse downtown, and their women.
It’s probably untrue, but those rumors have sent my imagination into a tailspin. The thought of both those men sharing a woman... okay, to be honest, sharing me, is enough to make my pulse pick up and my panties get wet every time I look at one of them. Asher and Leo are regulars in my fantasy rotation. I might be a bit obsessed with them.
It’s ridiculous really. I’ve worked hard over the last few years to build a normal life. One free of scandal and sex. I had enough of that living with my mother. Luckily, I’m completely invisible to both of them, and as far as I know, they never sleep with anyone from the office. So my normal, boring life is safe.
Voices from the hall drag me out of that train of thought just as the break room door flies open. As if pulled directly from my imagination, Asher walks through the door followed by Leo. Leo scans the room, his eyes skimming over the little cubby where I’m sitting. He shuts the door and locks it.
“Lita texted me while I was in a meeting,” Leo says and walks over to the coffee maker out of my view. “I’m over it. I think it’s time we let her go.”
“Thank God,” Asher says with a sigh and leans against the counter. “I was worried you had gotten attached to this one. She’s way too needy for my taste.”
“I wasn’t getting attached,” Leo says, and I can imagine him shooting his partner one of his patented death stares. “Quite the opposite. I can’t hold a conversation with the woman without wanting to slit my wrists.”
“Talking with her was never the point,” Asher says with a chuckle.
“And why is that too much to ask?” Leo says with an exhausted sigh. “Why can’t we have both? A woman I’d enjoy spending time with in and out of the bedroom.”
“We’ve talked about this,” Asher says. “The kind of women we hook up with aren’t exactly looking for long-term. Expecting more is just a recipe for trouble.”
It sounds as if this is a long standing argument between the two of them, and I’m curious as to what kind of woman wouldn’t want more from either of these men.
“I’m tired of the rotating door,” Leo finally says.
The sound of the coffee maker percolating fills the silence. I know I should let them know I’m here—a cough, drop something—but I’m riveted by their conversation. I put down my book and lean forward, trying to see Leo, but the dividing wall blocks my view.
“I hear what you’re saying.” Asher pushes away from the counter and begins pacing. “Maybe we need to try someone new. Someone a little different. Remember that bartender at Senator Timmons fundraiser last week? The one working her way through nursing school? I got her number, and we’ve been texting. She’s asked about you a couple times. I could feel her out if you want.”
“I don’t know,” Leo says. “After Lita, I think I need a break.”
“Are you sure?” Asher asks. “You do remember the woman I’m talking about. Hot, sweet smile, tongue piercing. She couldn’t take her eyes off your crotch the whole night.”
“I’m not interested,” Leo says with a slight edge to his voice. “But if you are, go for it. You can do whatever you want.”
“No. I’ll wait until you’re ready,” Asher says with a shrug. “I don’t really want to fuck her by myself. Where’s the fun in that?”
I cough, choking on my drink. I slap a hand over my mouth to keep the sound from traveling. Oh. My. God. The rumors are true. Every dirty fantasy I’ve had about the two of them comes flooding back with even more detail.
“Let’s talk about this when you get back from Austin,” Asher says and turns towards the door. “I’ll call Lita and give her the news.”
“Sounds good to me,” Leo says, following him out.
Leo pauses before going out and glances back over his shoulder. With my heart racing, I press back into the shadows of the corner. Did he see me? I’m not sure how long I stay there, but once I was sure they’d both gone, I gather my things.
I can’t believe what I just heard. Had my bosses really been talking about sharing another woman as casually as if they were talking about sharing a cab? I’m not sure if I’m disgusted or turned on.
I slip out the door and race down the hall, back to my office. But when I turn the corner, I run right into six foot of solid muscle that is Leo Mason. My book and lunch box hit the floor, spilling the contents. Asher reaches out to offer me a steady hand, but I take a step away from them. And of course, trip over my lunch. Leo catches me around my waist, pulling me back into his solid body.
“Are you okay,” Leo asks.
For a brief second, the two men surround me. My heart starts to pound in my chest, and heat floods my system as I remember their conversation. All I could manage is a nod. God, it had been far too long since I’d let a man hold me and it took every ounce of willpower not to lean into Leo’s embrace.
Luckily, my superpower kicked in. Asher’s eyes glaze over, and he turns to Leo—as if I’m not even standing there.
“I’ve got to make that conference call with Beijing,” Asher says. “I’ll let you know how that other issue goes later tonight.”
And just like that, he is gone. Embarrassed that I’d even entertained the idea that their touch could be anything or than polite, I try to pull away. But Leo’s arm is like a vice, holding me tight.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to save face. “I should be more careful.”
“Are you?” he said, in that low caramel voice of his.
“Am I what?” I’m not quite sure what he’s asking because my brain has checked out. Because holy shit Leo Mason is still holding me. His hand rests on the hollow of my back, and my entire body focuses on that one point of contact. There had to be a hard reset button or something back there because my brain goes blank and I can’t think straight. He is hard all over and that smell—woodsy and masculine. It is like catnip to my pussy, and it is all I can do not to rub up against him.
“Are you sorry?” he says, finally letting me go.
I still don’t have the wherewithal to respond, so I just nod.
“Good,” he says and kneels at my feet. I’d forgotten all about my lunch box and book until he glances up, head just inches from my body. That’s when I notice in his hand is the book I’d been reading. Their Slave. His eyes go to the cover, two hot guys wrapped around one half-naked woman, and he smiles like a predatory animal.
“Primrose, right?” he asks getting back to his feet.
“Yes,” I say, my mouth suddenly dry. “My name is Primrose, but I prefer Rose.”
“Hmmm.” His eyes narrow as he looks at me. A lock of golden hair has fallen across his forehead, and I have the irrational urge to push it back. “I think I prefer Rose, too.” That smile widens as he hands back my lunch box and the file I’d been working on. I notice he didn’t hand back the book. “I accept your apology.”
I pull my gaze away from the book and look at him, confused by his word. “My apology?”
God. The man must think I’m an idiot. But I can’t think straight with him standing so close to me.
“Yes, your apology,” he says, stepping around me. “It’s not nice to listen in on other people's conversations.”
My mouth drops open, and I am sure both my cheeks are bright red. He doesn’t wait to see what excuse I have—not that I have one.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Rose,” Leo says as he passes.
We are standing in a wide hallway, but his shoulder still brushes mine as he passes, still holding my book.