7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Brody
It’s late and the cool autumn air is flowing through the house. My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, the loud rumble against the marble top pulling me from my thoughts.
Tasha has been texting me on and off all night, asking for my advice on whether she should go to Vegas with Jasmine.
I’ve been reminding her that it’s a decision she has to make for herself, but I can’t help the worry that knots my stomach.
Then my phone rings.
“Tasha?” I answer immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have anywhere to stay starting tomorrow,” she admits in a shaky voice. “Jasmine is leaving and following her for a place to crash is literally the only reason I would go to Vegas with her. I don’t know what to do.”
A wave of relief washes over me, but I quickly temper it with caution.
I want her to stay, but the last thing I can do is say that outright.
Also, I don’t want to influence her selfishly. I want her to pursue what she wants.
“Tasha, you need to think about what’s best for you. I can’t make that decision.”
“I just wish I had a solid place to go,” she says, and I can hear the uncertainty in her voice. “When my ex…well, without going into all of that, let’s just say I wasn’t prepared to move out when I did.”
After a moment of contemplation, I blurt out, “You can stay in the other wing of my house for now. It’ll give you time to save up and figure things out.”
The silence stretches between us, and I wonder if I’ve taken a step too far.
Then she breathes out a soft, “Really? Thank you! I…”
“Just get your things sorted. We’ll talk more tomorrow,” I say, cutting her off before I let myself get too caught up in the excitement of having her close.
After hanging up, I lean against the counter, rubbing my eyes with my hands. My mind races. I can’t believe I just offered her a place to stay.
What have I gotten myself into?
Sure, I’m relieved she’s not running off to Vegas, but now what? I’m responsible for her well-being now.
The thought of coming home to Tasha every night makes me smile despite my reservations. I picture her here, sitting across from me, brightening up my space with her energy and laughter.
The idea is intoxicating.
But then, reality hits me.
What if this arrangement raises eyebrows? My reputation as CEO is important, and I’ve worked too hard to gain respect in my industry.
Having a young assistant living with me could raise some serious questions.
I think of my family and friends. Their judgment might break my heart.
Yet, despite the risks, I can’t deny that Tasha is the best thing that’s happened to me in years. She brings a youthful spark into my otherwise serious existence. Her laughter, her passion…everything about her is refreshing, like rain on a hot summer day.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way, and it makes me question if I’m really ready to give up on what we have just for the sake of appearances.
As I stand in my kitchen, staring into the distance, I weigh the pros and cons of Tasha living with me. On one hand, there’s the age gap. I’m pushing fifty, while she’s in her twenties.
What could we possibly have in common aside from the job I hired her to do? Will I come off as a creep?
And then there’s the obvious issue of her being my employee. If anyone finds out about her living with me, it could lead to whispers and rumors that could jeopardize both of our careers.
Yet, looking at it from another angle, having her around could be just what I need.
Tasha challenges me, pushes me to think outside the box. With her, I find myself smiling more often.
I can’t remember the last time I felt so alive. It’s invigorating to have someone in my life who isn’t tied to my past or my responsibilities. But can I really keep this professional while we are living together? What if my feelings grow even stronger?
Trying to suppress the stirrings of attraction that rise at the very thought of her being nearby all the time, I shake my head.
This arrangement could lead to trouble, but the thought of losing her, of her leaving to chase a new life in Vegas, feels worse. She’s become a part of my daily routine, and the idea of her not being around at all stings more than I expected.
I head to the kitchen, where Dana is wiping down the counters. She’s a sweet woman with bright white hair and an infectious smile. With my thoughts swirling, I decide to take action on the things I can put in motion.
“Dana, I need you to get the spare bedroom ready for a guest who might be staying for a while,” I say, trying to sound casual.
She lifts an eyebrow, surprised. A smile spreads across her face. “Oh really? Who’s moving in?”
“Tasha Daniels,” I reply, mentally bracing for her reaction.
Dana’s eyes light up, and she nods. “That’s your newest hire, right? The waitress turned assistant? Well, it’ll be nice to have some female company for once. You know, someone to balance out all that testosterone in this house.”
I chuckle, feeling heat creep up my neck. “It’s not like that, Dana. She just needs a place to stay for now.”
“Sure, sure,” she says coyly, clearly not convinced. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Brody. I get it. I’ll let you off the hook if I see any late-night guests in your wing of the house.”
I roll my eyes, but deep down, I feel excited trepidation about this new arrangement. As Dana starts gathering fresh linens, I can’t shake the feeling that my life is about to get a lot more interesting.
Lying in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, I imagine the look on Tasha’s face as I fucked her on my desk today.
I think of the sound of her voice muffled by my hand over her mouth, the way my name sounded on her lips.
This might be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Or the worst.