“Charlotte.” I was stunned. Did he really not remember? Or was he messing with me? I had a flash back to the way he whispered in my ear, asked me what my name was before he left. I remembered the way he slid into me, the way he felt buried inside of me, the rhythm of his hips as he fucked me. My face burned.
“Well, Charlotte,” he said. “I’m sure Worthington has briefed you on my case?”
“Not.. I mean, he just told us you might be charged with murder.” Maybe he was going to just pretend the whole thing had never happened. Which, honestly, would be a relief.
The thought of being charged with murder seemed to amuse him. “Yes.” He nodded. “And I can count on your complete discretion as it pertains this matter?”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
“Good.” He nodded. Then he stood up and walked around to the front of the desk. He sat down on the edge so that he was mere inches from where I was sitting. He didn’t say anything for a moment. I looked down at the floor and twisted my hands in my lap. “Stop fidgeting,” he commanded. My hands settled. “Look me in the eye.”
I looked at him. The electricity that flowed through me felt all-consuming, a surge that took my breath away. His closeness was intoxicating. I could still feel his hands on me, his dick inside me, his fingers, his mouth, his presence, his dominance.
“I have your discretion?” he repeated again.
“Yes.” I nodded.
“In all things?”
“Of course.” If he was talking about what had happened in the alley, he didn’t have to worry about me saying anything. There was no way I was going to admit that to anyone.
“Good.” He reached out and took my hand, turning it over to inspect my wrist. The X was still there.
I tried to snatch my hand back, embarrassed. But he held me tight. “You left the X,” he said.
“I didn’t have a chance to wash it off.” The pad of his thumb traced a slow circle over my pulse point, and I was afraid he’d be able to tell how fast my heart was beating.
He raised his gaze to mine, looking at me from under lowered lids. “That means you’re still mine.”
“Oh.” I tried to take my wrist back, and this time, he let me. “I…”
“Stand up, please,” he said.
It was automatic. I stood up. He looked me up and down, his eyes stormy, like maybe he was displeased with me. And even though it made no sense, even though I hardly even knew this man, in that moment, all I wanted to do was please him.
“Bend over,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I spluttered.
He stood up from the desk and began to roll up his sleeves. “Bend over the desk, please,” he said.
Fear and excitement pulsed through me. Was he going to fuck me again? I wanted him to so badly. My body was already ready, my nipples hard, my panties starting to get wet. But if I fucked him, there would be no way I could work with him.
“Mr. Cutler,” I said. “I don’t… that wouldn’t be appropriate.”
“Now you’re worried about being appropriate, Ms. Holloway?” he asked. He moved close to me, so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. “After what we did earlier?”
“That was.. that was different.” My resolve was melting, and I tried to take a step away from him. He had that same spicy scent of mint and expensive cologne.
“How?”
“That was before I was working for you.”
“You’re not working for me yet,” he said simply. “I still have to call Worthington to let him know I’m comfortable with you.”
I stared at him in shock. Was he seriously saying that if I didn’t sleep with him, if I didn’t let him take me over the desk, that he wasn’t going to hire me? I’d heard about this kind of thing happening, and even though I’d had the sense that my male law school classmates had been taken more seriously than I had, I had never been so blatantly propositioned like this.
And I didn’t care if it meant my law school career was over. I had my boundaries. And no matter how badly I wanted him, I wouldn’t be made to feel like my job depended on my willingness to have sex.
“I won’t be working for you, Mr. Cutler,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “Thank you for your consideration. Good luck with your case.”
I turned and walked out of the room, tears of humiliation burning at my eyes.
When I got to the reception area, Josh was gone, and the receptionist was no longer at her desk.
Maybe Josh had gone downstairs. But when I got outside, there was no sign of him. And no sign of the car that had brought us here.
Great.
As I began to scan the street for a cab, my cell phone started to ring.