Chapter Four
The day didn’t get much better for Lillian. It had been bad enough that she'd spilled her drink all over her boss, but even worse she came in to the office with a giant stain on her own blouse. In fact, it had been the first thing the Dragon Lady had called her out on.
Dragon Lady. That was the name she'd given her new supervisor. The woman was a bitter old woman who seemed to hate everything there was to hate about Lillian. From the moment she first laid eyes on her, Margaret had hated her from the get go.
It was rare for Lillian to meet somebody who actually hated her, not that she was friends with every single person that she met. But still, to be hated right from the start was a new feeling for Lillian.
Most people in her town were fairly friendly. She understood that the big city was different, but this seemed far more targeted.
Lillian tapped her toes on the top of her shoe, allowing her cold wet shoe the chance to dry out and the feeling to come back into the tips of her toes. Nearly three-quarters of the day gone, and she had yet to see the mysterious hot boss from earlier.
Several times she glanced over to where his office was, hoping for another chance to apologize now that she wasn’t nearly so frazzled. Maybe she could make things right.
Lillian still wasn't sure how she was going to do that, but if she went with her gut, she'd say not anything chocolate related. He seemed to despise the smell.
Although maybe what he really despised was the smell on his clothing. Not that she could really blame him. The only saving grace of the whole thing was that her drink hadn’t actually been hot by that point.
An image of her having to rip into that button-up shirt flew into her head. Buttons flying all over the place as she tried to see the hard flesh she’d felt with her own hand. Burning a piece of art like that would be a crying shame.
A stack of paper slammed down on her desk, and she jumped at the sound, bringing her out of the fantasy.
Lillian looked up and found Margaret standing over her. The woman glared down at her through her horn-rimmed glasses. Her sharp features were only amplified by the tight bun her chestnut hair was pulled back into.
"Make copies of these," Margaret snapped.
Lillian slid her foot back into her shoe. Better to suffer the cold squishy shoe than the wrath of the Dragon Lady.
She glanced around behind her to where Margaret had taken her that morning. It wasn't exactly like the place was monstrously huge, but it was still large enough.
"You do know how to make copies, don't you?"
Lillian glanced up to where Margaret stood still glaring down at her. So much hatred from one person seemed a little overkill for a stain on a blouse.
She would just do what she was taught to do all her childhood. Kill her with kindness.
With all the will she could muster, Lillian plastered on the best smile she possibly could and stood with more confidence than she was currently feeling.
"Of course," she said. "I'll get right on that."
Without another word, Lillian picked up the stack of papers and marched herself down the hall. It might've been pulled off slightly better if with each step the slight squishing sound couldn't be heard all around the office space.
Lillian made her way down the hall and turned the corner where she believed the copy machine was and breathed in a sigh of relief. She glanced each direction down the hall and leaned against the wall.
"It’s close to home," she whispered to herself. "It's better pay and an opportunity for advancement." Doing the only thing she knew to help, Lillian started listing all the reasons why this job was much better than any other she’d come across. “There’s no Tucker,” she said with more resolve.
She glanced down at the papers in her hand. The windbag had no problem taking a poke at her on her first day, but she'd show her. She'd print off all the copies and do whatever else needed to be done. Maybe it was one of those times where she just had to put in her dues, and it would all work out in the end.
With renewed confidence, Lillian charged down the hall in the direction she thought she'd been in before.
The halls were quiet. She'd been told that sometimes they bought buyers there when they didn't want the artifact or item to leave the facility.
Everyone had been a bit sketchy with what exactly they were dealing with. She knew there were high-end pieces being collected and sold to the wealthy but not much else.
It didn’t seem like that would be something that would make the kind of money to support the amount of staff and building they had, but she really didn’t know much about high-end art.
Still, she kept wondering about the connections the company might have. It didn’t seem like the sort of place that would be connected with the Mafia, but what the hell did she know? Organized crime in her town was when the local teens decided to TP or egg a house together.
Lillian tried to picture the man from the morning. His dark penetrating stare made her shiver, but not because they were the eyes of a killer. No, it was much more pleasant than that.
She turned the corner once again, her mind still on the smoldering eyes of the man.
Without warning, her body slammed into a wall of muscle. Again.
The papers she had been holding flew out of her hands and littered the ground around them.
Lillian struggled to right herself and cursed her overactive imagination as the heel in her soggy shoe snapped, sending her face first into the wall of muscle for a third time.
Her mom had always told her that her imagination would get her into trouble someday. If she believed in that sort of thing, she might have assumed she was a witch or something.
"I'm so sorry," Lillian said as she slid the blasted shoe off her foot. Her ankle was bound to be sore after this one, but she’d seen worse.
After a moment of silence, she realized the strong arms were still holding her as she hobbled on one foot. Slowly she looked up.
Dark, stormy eyes stared back at her, this time much closer than they had been earlier. Before all she’d seen was disdain and anger. Now all she saw was concern.
And desire? Or maybe that was just her libido hoping.
"I wasn't paying attention to where I was going," she said softly. “Again.” A flush of heat covered her face.
The man didn't speak as he stared at her. She could see the hard lines on his face and strong chiseled jaw. Before she'd thought he was attractive, but from this close, she could easily say he was one of the most attractive men she'd ever seen. Or maybe it was just the fact that his arms still circled her, clouding her head with all sorts of lustful thoughts.
"This seems to happen to you quite often," he said, his voice a soft rumble.
There was no anger in his voice, but there was also no humor in it as well. It was a statement, and she wasn't so certain it was the best statement considering.
Lillian shook her head, trying to shake loose some sort of sensible thought.
For the first time, she realized that his white button-up shirt was wide open, and what she had actually tumbled into was his undershirt. Little droplets of water fell off the ends of his hair.
“You changed,” Lillian breathed out.
She liked him before when he’d smelled of man and chocolate, but fresh out of the shower was just as good. Deliciously good.
Lillian tried to keep the images of him standing in a shower, water cascading down his body, out of her mind, but the thoughts were already there.
“Yes, well, not everyone likes the smell of cocoa,” he said.
Lillian licked her lips. “I do,” she said absently, and then blushed once she realized the words had actually left her mouth. “I mean, I’m sure you smell good in anything. Um, or you smell good now.”
Her face burned now, but she couldn’t seem to shut up and step away with even a little bit of dignity. Beneath her fingers she could have swore she felt a sort of deep, low groan. The feel of it made her inside shiver and nipples come to attention. Christ on a cracker, the man oozed sex appeal.
"Erik, they're here.”
Lillian jumped at the sound of another voice. She’d nearly forgotten where they were. This wasn’t some bar. This was her workplace.
When she turned, she spotted yet another tall, dark, and steamy man. This new arrival had soft brown hair and a beard. His hazel eyes watched her with curiosity.
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment, and she wondered if they only hired extremely attractive men to work for this company. If so maybe she'd really lucked out after all. No Tuckers here.
Erik stepped away from her and gave a short nod to the new arrival.
Lillian knelt near where the papers were and started to quickly gather them in her arms. Maybe if she just didn’t look at him, he would go to whatever meeting he had scheduled, and she would have to time to think about all the things she wished she was doing with Erik.
When his feet didn't move, she glanced back up to where he stood over her. His dark eyes watched her with an expression she couldn't quite place.
Confusion? Not that she wasn't a confusing person. Two times running into the man in one day was likely to be very confusing, especially for a man who clearly wasn’t used to being run into.
"Things move very quickly here," Erik said. "Pay attention to what's going on around you, or you're going to get hurt." She watched, open-mouthed, as he strolled quickly down the hall and stopped just before turning. “Wear sensible shoes and put ice on the foot,” he said quietly before disappearing around the corner.
Maybe Lillian wasn’t the confusing one. First, Erik gave her a harsh warning only to follow it up with kind concern.
Was this how big city guys did things? She couldn’t decide if he was offering her boss-like consideration or flirting with her.
Lillian shook her head. They’d only just met. She shouldn’t read any more into this. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful… and hot.
Slowly she gathered the papers from the floor and groaned as she realized there were no page numbers on the bottom. There was no telling how out of order they were, or if it even mattered.
She stood with the papers and quickly made her way down the hall. When she noticed the exit door leading to the emergency hallway, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was the one thing she remembered from the tour really. The breakroom, which held the copy machine, was near the emergency exit.
Lillian stepped inside and glanced back to the door. A small frown played on her face.
If he was coming from this direction, that meant he would've come up the fire escape. She was told that it led down to the basement, which was only to be used in emergencies.
The layout of the place was a little strange. The first floor was actually the basement. The second floor was where they stored the items and was off-limits to most third-floor staff. Her understanding was that there were two ways to get in, and both were under heavy lock and key. So even if she’d wanted to get in, likely she wouldn’t be able to.
Margaret mentioned that the building used to be a bank headquarters, and that might explain the layout. Still, it didn’t really explain why he’d come from the first floor.
Lillian shrugged. Letting her imagination run wild was what had gotten her into the strange situation. Trying to figure out just what he was up to wouldn't help. He was the boss, and she supposed he could go anywhere he wanted to. That was one of the perks of being boss.
Not really certain what else to do besides make the copies, Lillian placed them into the tray and tapped away at the keypad. The machine hummed happily as she watched the paper slip into the right dock on the other side.
As time ticked on, Lillian tested her ankle. It was sore, and Erik was right, she’d likely need to ice it later. Ironic, since she basically just spent the day icing her toes.
“Oh, Lord, tell me there’s still a caramel mocha left.”
Lillian was startled as a woman marched directly into the breakroom and over to the coffee machine, her sharp heels clacking against the tile floor.
She couldn’t help but stare at the other woman. Her honey blonde hair was pulled into a perfect bun, not tight like Margaret but soft. The hairstyle was the sort that looked effortless, but Lillian knew it took hours to pull off. The other woman wore a gray pencil skirt and a cream blouse. Her long legs were perfect in the outfit.
This was the sort of look Lillian wanted, but knew she could never achieve, even if she didn’t have horribly short legs. It didn’t help that Erik told her she should give up the heels and go with something sensible. Maybe she was more like Margaret than this woman, which didn’t sit all that well with her.
“That cow! She does this on purpose! I swear she does!” the leggy woman said. She turned to Lillian, and all she could do was nod. The other woman opened the pod container and huffed loudly.
“Last caramel,” she grumbled to herself. She pulled the pod out and tossed it violently into the trash.
At this point, Lillian was debating if she really wanted to be in the room with the other woman. Maybe it would be best if she risked the wrath of the Dragon Lady and returned half done. It was a toss-up concerning which path was the safest.
The woman placed a cup under the spout and hit start. Her mood changed in an instant. She breathed in deeply, a clear calm sweeping over her.
She smiled at Lillian. “So, you’re the new temp?” The other woman kept her eyes on the cup of coffee, fixated on the black brew.
“Oh yes, I’m Lillian.”
The machine hissed loudly just as the woman took the cup away. She dumped cream and sugar into the cup before taking a drink.
“Much better,” she mumbled before looking over at Lillian. “Sorry, just got in after a long flight. I’m Gwen.” The woman reached out a hand and Lillian took it. “So you’re under Margaret?”
There was no mistaking the way she said the name, as if she’d just eaten something very bitter, which was sort of how Lillian imagined Margaret tasting.
“She sent me in here to make some copies actually.”
Gwen rolled her eyes as she glanced over at the papers. “It’s busy work. She’ll likely toss it in the trash. That’s just how she does things.”
Lillian frowned. She hated busy work.
“She’ll lighten up here soon,” Gwen said. “But don’t expect her to be nice. I’ve been here for two years, and she says she can’t stock my caramel mochas, but somehow always finds the last one.”
For a moment, Lillian thought about laughing but decided not to given the state the other women was in when she entered the room. She clearly took her coffee seriously.
“I’m more of a cocoa fan,” Lillian said softly.
For the first time, Gwen smiled brightly, and a warmth passed over Lillian. “I think you and I will get along fine.” She gathered her cup. “You ever hear the phrase, ‘Fake it till you make it?’” Lillian nodded. “You just follow that, and things are going to get a lot easier for you,” Gwen said with a softer smile. “I’ll see you around, Lillian.”
Just like that she was left with her busy work and a head full of questions.