CHAPTER
Today I am wearing a flattering belted, button-front dress with broken elbow-length sleeves. Low heeled black pumps along with a pair of sheer black stockings complete the look. My hair is hanging about my face and shoulders in a wave of curls.
“Whoa, did I miss daylight saving time or something?” she adds checking the time on the kitchen clock. “Why are you dressed for work already and I thought you said you were quitting?”
“I am,” I answer, getting an apple from the fridge to munch on. I am on a mission to reach the office long before six and leave my resignation letter on Mr. Ash’s desk before he gets in. “I’m just dropping off my resignation letter effective immediately.”
Her eyes travel back to the clock. “At ten minutes to five in the morning?”
“Yup. Call it the coward’s way out.”
She gives my outfit another suspicious look. “If you’re reigning why are you dressed to kill this morning? Looks like you even took time to wield the curling iron. At what time did you actually get up to have this all done?”
I blush and look away. How do I explain that even though I don’t plan to run into Mr. Ash, if I do, I want to look my very best? It’s not about wanting to be noticed by my insufferable boss, I convince myself. Why would I want attention from that bully?
“Just going out with a bang,” I reply and jiggle my car keys at her. “Gotta go. I’ll have dinner ready this evening since I’ll be home before you for once!”
“Hmm, I think I like that idea,” Jessica grin. “You can be the housewife for a change while I bring home the bacon.”
“You can’t cater to my expensive tastes,” I return swooping my handbag over my shoulder. As a teacher, Jessica gets out at three and is normally home before me which means she usually has dinner ready by the time I arrive.
The drive from the apartment to the office is nerve-wracking. I have to modulate my breathing over the final five minutes or so but it still doesn’t help as I park my car. I’m relieved to find only a few cars parked in the lot. What is wrong with these people? Always the first to be at work and the last to leave? I don’t have much of a life beyond work and I wouldn’t be caught coming to work at this hours.
My resignation letter in hand, I enter the building, greeting the security guard. After two years working at Cavil’s I know all the different security guards that who come on duty but I didn’t recognize this guy. I have to show him my work ID for him to be satisfied I am an employee. Is this what Mr. Cavil meant by Mr. Ash improving the publishing company? How much is he going to change about this place? Thank God, I wouldn’t be sticking around to find out.
“You’re here very early today,” he comments suspiciously.
“Just dropping off something for the CEO,” I explain, waving the envelope for him to see.
“You can leave it here at the front desk,” he states with a smile now that he no longer suspects me of wrong doing.
“No, it’s fine. I work for him and have an office key. I will just pop in and leave it on his desk and be out of here in five.”
He nods and I take the elevator to the top floor. The office is eerily quiet. I walk by my desk and feel a pang in my chest. Two years of work and leaving all because of this man. I remove an empty box we’d gotten stationary in and removing the lid, start to place my things inside. Photograph of my grandmother, the last photograph I have of my mom before she died of a brain aneurism. The last photo is of me and Jessica at graduation. I place other random items I’d bought from pocket in the box as well, sticky notes, notepads, stapler, punch, colored pens. I plan to leave nothing behind.
Everything placed in the box, I take another look around. This is my first real job and I’m nostalgic that I will have to leave. I shake off the feeling and try to think positive. Maybe I could focus on using my Art degree. That’s what I would do and forget about Cavils’. I keep forgetting, Ash’s. I would forget about Ash’s Publishing and Axel Ash and start a new life for myself.
I push the office door open and walk over to the empty desk. Mr. Cavil must have worked very late yesterday to clear the out the office. I place the envelope on the desk ensuring it is the right way up with the words “To Whom It May Concern” written clearly in my neat handwriting at the front.
I notice too late the briefcase placed on the chair around the desk. My eyes widen in panic and I start to back away at the same time the door to the private bathroom open and Axel Ash walks out wearing nothing but a pair of black pants and shoes. I gape at his muscled bare chest, void of hair except for a thin line running down the center and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. I don’t know where to look, taking in his broad shoulders, the flat male nipples, the well-sculpted six pack.
Heat suffuses not only my cheek by my entire body. My nipples pucker in a state of arousal which pooled in wetness between my legs. I am embarrassed at the way he makes me feel, not used to such raw emotions inside me. I’ve always thought of myself as not a highly-sexed individual. I rarely get the urge to have sex but looking at Axel Ash, he makes me very conscious of myself as a sexual woman being confronted by a very virile man.
At the same time I am embarrassed, I can’t help being curious. What would it feel like to run my fingers tentatively along the ridges of the hard chest? Would his nipples get all hard and sensitive like mine when he is aroused? My eyes follow that trail of hair again and as much as my brain screams to look away, I disobey and find myself eying his crotch. Is he aroused too or is the material of his pants just close-fitting? I could make out the shape of his manhood pressed against the flap of his zipper.
I swallow hard, a trickle of sweat cracking through the foundation of my makeup. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and my feet would not listen to my brain to run and get the hell out of there. I have nothing to say to him that isn’t in the letter.
A look of surprise crosses his features before he recovers and take control of the situation. His lengthy strides bring him closer and that delicious tempted to touch chest of his. Don’t come any closer! I want to scream but with the discovery of how wet I could get by just staring at a man’s chest, comes the loss of my ability to form words.
He grasps me by the shoulder, once more invading my personal space without my permission.
“What are you doing here?” he demands, his blue eyes flashing shards of ice.
“I- I-I,” I stammer like an idiot. I can imagine how dumb I must look peering up at him, my eyes opened wide, tongue-tied.
“Well, spit it out already,” he orders and gives me a little shake.
It’s that little shake that did it, made me pale even worse and my brain scatter. He looks furious and fear takes hold of me and what he can do to me with his strength.
“No daddy, leave mommy alone!”
“Joyce baby, go to your room.”
“No, mommy. Daddy please, please don’t hit mommy.”
“Then you’ll get it.”
I flinch at the memory of being backhanded into the wall. And I almost faint. My body sag and I would have fallen to the ground if not for Mr. Ash holding onto me and supporting my weight.
“Don’t try that fainting bit on me,” he grounds out in exasperation. “It might have worked with Cavil but it sure as hell won’t work on me. What are you doing here so early? I told you six and it’s barely past five.”
I straighten my spine, pushing the memories of my childhood away. “I- I wanted to be here early,” I lie, afraid of what he would do if he finds out the truth while I’m still around.
“You’re lying,” he says, pushing his face close to mine. I can smell the woodsy scent of his aftershave. It makes him seem wild.
“I’m not lying,” I protest.
“Prove it.”
“You tell me to be here at six. Is it a crime to want to come in early to impress the new boss?”
He remains silent as he stares into my face. I almost swoon again when he looks deep into my eyes as though seeking answers. His eyes held mysteries and- and other things I couldn’t identify. His nostril flare as though he is angry at me. Why would he be angry at me? It is his fault. Why is he at work shaving anyway? His aftershave was too strong. He must have just finished shaving.
I’ve never been in Mr. Cavil’s bathroom before but imagine there must be a shower inside.
“Okay,” he concedes and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Say I believe you and that’s the reason you’re here early. Now what’s your reason for being in my office? Are you looking for something to steal?”
My face is no longer pale with this remark. I become heated at the accusation. Who does he think he is to go about making these random accusations about people he doesn’t know.
“I would never do such a thing,” I protest, trying to wrench myself out of his arms but he is holding onto me too tightly. I cannot budge. “Will you let me go?”
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing in my office.”
I decide to go with a version of the truth. “I- I picked up a letter at the front desk that arrived for you. I was simply dropping it off.”
He glances up and down my person. “I don’t see a dress unless you’re telling me it’s hidden in that dress you’re wearing in which event I’ll oblige you to retrieve it.”
“You-why you,” I stammer out.
“The letter Miss Brown or will I have to search you for it?”
“You- you wouldn’t dare!” I exclaim in astonishment.
“Watch me.”
His hands went to the top button of my dress and I wench myself away from him with such force the top button flew off. I clench the two flaps close. The V of the dress hadn’t showed any cleavage given my breasts were small but now with the button gone, the lace black bra I have on underneath is visible.
“This is sexual harassment!” I declare in outrage.
“No Joyce. You end up in my office at an ungodly hour claiming to have a letter for me which I see no evidence of.”
“Because it’s on your bloody desk,” I respond, very annoyed at the way he is treating me when he knows nothing about me.
He turns slightly and looks on the desk where the letter is lying. He looks back at me with a scowl. “Why the hell didn’t you just say so?”
“How could I get in a word when you were so busy accusing me of being a thief.”
“Well, you have yourself to blame. Now, excuse yourself while I get dressed. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”