Grace
At night, the office was a ghost town. During the day, however, it was a colorful ecosystem filled with inside jokes, efficiency and the delicious scent of coffee. As much as I liked being a part of that environment, I couldn’t deny that I enjoyed the darkness and silence a lot more. The office after hours was my domain, one I was happy to share with only one other person.
I looked at the other size of the hall where the door to Fletcher’s office was. I wasn’t sure if it was because he loved what he did or because he hated going home, but either way, Fletcher Cox loved working late.
The idea of spending a million dollars in an apartment you only ever used for sleep was one I couldn’t fully comprehend—probably because I wasn’t filthy rich like Fletcher—but that was my boss’s reality. He had the dream home, the sizable staff and every luxury in the world, and still, he spent every waking moment of every day sitting at his office desk chair. What a waste.
“Grace.” His voice was muffled through the closed door, but it still made little butterflies flutter inside my stomach.
Quickly, I got up and made my way to his office. Even though I knew he wanted me in there, I knocked before I opened the door and popped my head in.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Cox?”
Fletcher stood next to the dark bookcase at the corner with a tumbler containing his usual three fingers of whiskey in his hand. It was that kind of night and, because I was weak and stupid, my lips curled into a happy smile.
As per usual, he waved a hand at me. “Fletcher. Please. We’re not working anymore, are we?”
He wasn’t working. I still was. As his personal assistant, I wouldn’t stop working until he left the office. I thought about reminding him of that, but my lust made me decide against it. Although I knew it was wrong and pointless, in late nights like these, when Fletcher was drinking and asked me to call him by his given name, I wanted him to forget that I was his employee. Things always got fun and exciting when he did.
“I guess we’re not,” I said in an agreeable tone that made him smirk.
He smiled back at me. “Good, Gracie.”
The pet name made me pull in a sharp breath. I glanced down at the glass he was holding and knew it wasn’t his first of the night. Although he could hold his liquor better than most people I knew, his words were just a little t.oo sloppy around the edges and he was sweet to me. That only ever happened when he was hammered.
Even though I knew it was the booze talking, I couldn’t help but swoon just a little. In all my twenty-six years, I had never met a man as ridiculously gorgeous as Fletcher Cox.
His messy, light hair had recently started graying at the sides, but it looked good on him; like highlights from too much time in the sun. His square jaw was lightly dusted with a carefully manicured stubble that called your attention to his straight nose and those perfectly kissable lips. His fit body was draped in a navy, tailor-made suit that matched his eyes. He was everything I had always wanted but knew would never have—at least not when he was sober.
“Why are you here so late?” he asked as he approached me.
The smell of his cologne mixed with the pungent smell of alcohol made my head swim in the best possible way.
“I’m here in case you needed something, sir.”
His eyes slid down my body, and I could feel every part of it like he was touching me with his stare. The hungry intensity of his glance would have made any other employee turn around, run away and file a sexual harassment suit against him. However, I was no ordinary employee.
I was the pathetic kind who had a crush on her boss and would do just about anything for even a second of his drunken attention. I literally hated myself for it, but I could never hate him.
“In case I need something.” The words tumbled out of his mouth as an afterthought. He pulled a deep breath through his open lips and said, “This dress looks great on you.”
Suddenly very aware of what I was wearing, I looked down at my royal blue dress. It was a simple wrap number that emphasized my curves, cleavage, and the dark chocolate hue of my skin. Although I had had it for years, this was the first time I actually appreciated how I looked in it.
When I looked back up at Fletcher, I saw that his eyes were lingering in my cleavage. Without even thinking, I inflated my chest, pushing my boobs out in his direction. His lips curled up in appreciation.
These were the nights I lived for. The ones when reality fell away, and it was just him and me. It was like everything was colored in a different light, and the possibilities were endless.
Fletcher stepped even closer to me, and the smell of his cologne made me dizzy. There was something dark that lurked underneath his scent, something sexy and dangerous that only came out when he drank. Deep down, I knew I should have stepped away. It was the appropriate thing to do, after all. However, I didn’t. I wanted the inappropriate, the dangerous, the forbidden. But above all, I wanted him.
Slowly and sexy as usual, Fletcher lifted his hand and ran a finger down my cheek. It was a seemingly innocent gesture, but we both knew it was anything but. His eyes and the touch itself were so full of lust it left a trail of fire in its wake.
With my heart violently pounding in my chest, I closed my eyes and imagined that our circumstances were different. I pretended that he wasn’t twenty years my senior, a billionaire, the owner of the company I worked for, and completely out of my reach. No, in my mind he was an Adonis sent from the heavens to rescue me, and holy shit was I a woman in distress.
As my eyes opened again, Fletcher’s face was so close to mine I could see the light freckles on his nose—the ones that only appeared after he went on a holiday to the Caribbean last year. His breath smelled like whiskey and something that reminded me of despair. The fingers of the hand he had on my cheek stroked my skin lightly, as our eyes locked in a heated gaze.
Like so many times before, I closed my eyes and waited as his face inched closer and closer to mine. Immediately, I was sucked back into the bubble that we created whenever it was just the two of us alone in the office.
Kissing Fletcher was like waking up when I’d been asleep for so long. Whenever our mouths connected, everything felt different, looked different, smelled different. It was as if life and all the heartbreak it entitles was finally worth it.
As I waited for his lips to touch mine as I knew they eventually would, my mind bounced around, going to all the fantasies I’d created around him. In that short moment when everything seemed possible, I pictured Fletcher pushing me onto the desk. In my mind, I saw the stationary falling to the ground as he pushed my skirt up and kissed me like he meant it. I imagined the grit of his beard scratching the soft skin of my face as his hands explored my body. I ached for his touch so much that my back arched and my breath caught at that simple fantasy.
Wetness pooled between my legs as I felt the warmth of his skin approaching my face. Then, just as his mouth grazed mine, the phone rang, and everything stopped. My delicious fantasy died, and Fletcher stepped away from me like he was flammable and I was fire.
“I think you should get that,” he said, filling my body with dread.
I swallowed hard as my body refused to return to the real world. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I wouldn’t let them fall. Regardless of what had just happened, I was at work and had to professional.
Ignoring the wetness between my legs and the bulge on Fletcher’s pants, I walked to his desk and picked up the phone. To my revolt, it was a wrong number, and I couldn’t help but curse silently as I put the receiver back in its cradle.
“Why don’t you go home?” Fletcher asked as I turned to looked at him. He looked uncomfortable and regretful as he always did after one of our moments. “It’s late, and you’ve been working hard.”
Despite his politeness, the dismissal still hurt. I hated the fact that he didn’t want me here just as much as I hated myself for being in this position again. But, what was I going to say? He was still my boss, after all.
“Is there anything else I can do for you before I leave?”
Yes, offer yourself to my pleasure, I imagined him saying. But instead, his real words were, “No, Miss Taylor. That will be all.”
Miss Taylor. My shoulders sagged at the properness and distance of the term.
“Very good, Mr. Cox. I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I said as I turned and walked out of his office smoothing non-existent wrinkles from my skirt.
I was at the door when he cleared his throat. Filled with the tiniest sliver of hope, I turned. His hand was on his buckle, and he tugged at his pants, adjusting the clear evidence of what had just happened between us. I couldn’t help but smile.
After a long glance my way, his face darkened, and he asked, “Will you contact Ms. Bauer for me?”
It was like a punch in the gut. With tears forming in my eyes, I nodded and closed the door behind me. My heart ached as I dialed the number I had called so often I knew it by heart and waited.
“Hello?” Charlotte Bauer’s voice was like a purr.
I cleared my throat. “This is Mr. Cox’s office.”
“Hello, Grace.”
As per usual, I didn’t respond to her cheerful a greeting. There was no reason for me to dislike her other than the fact that Fletcher preferred her company over my own. Rationally, I understood that she was closer to him in every way. She was rich, gorgeous, in her late thirties and, most importantly, not his employee. It made sense for them to be whatever they were. Still, I hated her with every fiber of my being.
“Mr. Cox asked me to contact you on his behalf. He was working late, but he’s now collecting his things and will be leaving the office shortly.”
She chuckled like she had expected this. “Thank you for calling, Grace.”
I put the phone down without saying goodbye and collected my things. With a final glance at Fletcher’s door, I switched off the lamp on my desk and left the office.
As I rode down the elevator, I did my best not to think of Fletcher, but it was damn near impossible. Yes, he was an asshole most of the time. He also had a mistress and, probably, a drinking problem. But despite all of that, I could see a vulnerable and genuinely nice man underneath. It was with that man I had fallen in love; the only problem was that finding him underneath all the crap was becoming an increasingly harder task.
“Can I call you a cab, Grace?” Phil, the night security guard, asked as I walked down the lobby. He stood alone by the door; all the receptionists already gone for the evening.
I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Phil.”
He walked out with me and hailed a cab. Once a car stopped, he opened the door and stood out on the curb until the car was moving away. The kindness in his gesture warmed my heart. I really needed to go for a man like Phil—not Phil himself, of course, he was married—but someone who had manners like and knew how to treat a woman right.
The only problem was that I didn’t want that. I didn’t want a gentleman, I wanted the man I couldn’t have. Life was screwed up like that sometimes. At least, it was for me.