Chapter 2 Rowan
ROWAN
“Morning!” I put a piping hot latte and a fresh bagel on Rubin’s desk.
Elevated is buzzing with hard work vibes this morning.
Cheerful Christmas music is playing, and almost everyone is swaying along to it.
A few tuneful people are singing along over in fulfilment.
Rubin is a graphic designer and the first person to speak to me when I started working here.
Not that work here exactly. I work for Elevated, but I’m not technically based in the office.
I just hang out here when Nigel, the boss, doesn’t need me to drive him anywhere.
He has two gorgeous cars, and I get to drive and take care of them. It’s my dream job.
Rubin takes the plastic lid off the cup and inhales the scent of the latte. “Thanks. You’re cheerful this morning.”
“Of course I am. It’s almost Christmas.”
“You might not be when you find out we’ve had a boss switch,” he whispers.
I widen my eyes. “Tall, dark, and handsome is in charge?”
“If you mean Damon, yes. And he’s really not happy about it.”
“Huh.”
“What did I do to deserve breakfast?”
“Christmas spirit? I had to grab breakfast for myself, and I figured you might have skipped.”
“You know me so well.”
“I’m honestly surprised you get to skip breakfast with two Doms in the house.”
He chuckles. “There are five Doms in my house, but I only sleep with two of them. All three of my men were fast asleep when I left.” He yawns. “The only thing I hate about my new living arrangement is the commute to work.”
“Yeah, yeah, moan to someone who doesn’t live further out than you.”
“But you’re clearly a morning person.”
“How so?”
“You’re always so chirpy first thing.”
I grin. “How do you know it’s not because of the coffee?”
He shrugs. “I don’t. You might also take happy pills.”
I snort. “There’s no such thing.”
“If you say so. Look lively. Grumpy boss is on the prowl.”
I stand tall and stare in the direction towards Nigel’s office.
Damon is standing in the doorway, flicking his gaze around the room.
He is so dreamy. Tall, dark hair, a stern expression, and fuck, does he look good in a suit.
I don’t know how old he is, but I’d guess he’s in his mid-thirties.
If I’m right, he’s around six or seven years older than me, which is perfect.
Or it would be, if he weren’t one of my bosses.
He’s overdressed compared to everyone else here, but I appreciate the cut of his navy, single-breasted jacket, and his royal blue tie.
I’m overdressed, too. As Nigel’s driver, I need to look as smart as his cars. My official uniform is a charcoal-grey suit and a white shirt, which I jazz up with my choice of ties. Today’s is green with tiny candy canes all over it.
Damon’s piercing stare falls on me. His irises are dark blue, although from this distance his eyes look like shining lumps of coal. “Rowan. Do you have a minute?” He returns to his office without waiting for an answer.
“I will always have a minute for you, handsome,” I mutter under my breath.
“Careful not to trip over your hard-on on the way to his office,” Rubin says.
I flip him my finger. “I do not have a hard-on.”
“Yet.”
“I’m professional.”
“Oh, yeah. So professional, you’re drooling right now.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
I roll my eyes and make my way across the vast, yet cluttered space to the office.
I knock before entering. “You needed me?”
Damon is staring at the monitor, a vein pulsing in his temple and another throbbing in his neck. Is he stressed about something? Probably the fact that he’s here, rather than taking time off, like he should be. But if he’s here, where is Nigel?
He gives me an apologetic look. “I need a favour and you’re the only one I can spare.”
Which means he doesn’t need me to drive him anywhere. That’s a shame.
“I need you to pick up my costume for the charity ball tomorrow night.” He pushes a Post-It Note across the desk with an address on it. “It’s a bit of a trek, I’m afraid.”
“I don’t mind.” I scoop up the Post-It Note and scan the address. Yeah, he wasn’t kidding when he said it was a trek. “Wait. I thought Nigel was going to the charity ball.”
Damon sighs. “Nigel’s not here.” His words are clipped and stern. “Fuck, how am I going to get there? It’s in the middle of nowhere.”
I clear my throat, drawing his attention back to me. I smile brightly and wave my hand. “Your driver’s standing right in front of you.”
“It’s in the middle of nowhere. At night.”
I widen my smile. “It’s my job. You do know that because it’s in the middle of nowhere, Nigel booked two rooms for the night, don’t you?”
He stares at me. I guess he didn’t know.
“Aren’t I lucky that he doesn’t expect me to sleep in the car?” Although I could easily. “I think he was planning on taking the Rolls-Royce. Is that all right with you?” It’s a beautiful car, with a stunning interior ceiling.
“This is why we need a PA,” he grates out.
“Nah, this is why you’ve got me. If it’s anything to do with getting from A to B, I know what the plan is.” I wave the Post-It Note. “One costume coming up.”
He half-smiles. “Thanks, Rowan.”
“You’re welcome.” Now get out from behind your desk and give me a hot, steamy, thank-you kiss. A guy can dream.
“What’s the verdict?” Rubin asks when I rejoin him.
“Oh, he wants me to go collect his costume for the ball tomorrow night.” I lean on his desk and fan my face. “Which means I get to spend a couple of hours in the car with him tomorrow. Be still, my heart.”
“Make sure you keep your eyes on the road rather than him.”
“He’ll be in the back.”
“Exactly. Eyes on the road.”
“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent driver. I wonder what his costume is.”
“Go pick it up and sneak a peek.”
“I shouldn’t.”
“But you could.”
I grin. “I could, couldn’t I? You're a terrible influence.”
He points at himself and mouths ‘me?’ with the most indignant expression I’ve ever seen.
“Yes, you. Right, I’d best get going. See ya.”
I don’t take either car. It would take far too long to navigate London traffic.
Instead, I go tube line hopping to make my way to the other side of the Thames and London.
The city is so bright and vibrant. Christmas music is playing everywhere.
Even the buskers are playing happy tunes.
It’s packed above and below ground, which slows everyone down.
At the same time, there’s a weird sense of camaraderie.
We’re all sardines in this giant tin, and nearly everyone is smiling and chatting about their Christmas wishes.
Eventually, I make it to a tiny costume shop.
The window is packed full of decorations and Christmas costumes, from bright to garish, from modest to sexy.
It’s easy to imagine Damon wearing a sexy Santa costume, with an open, bright red jacket, trimmed with fake fur, an equally bright jockstrap, and black, knee-length boots.
Would he put me on his good list or his naughty list?
I’d quite like him to put me over his knee and spank me for being naughty.
Another dream that will never come true.
I go inside. The shop is warm and smells of hot chocolate and cinnamon.
I wait for my turn while imagining Damon in more sexy costumes.
He’d look hot as a vampire. A sheriff in nothing but a blue shirt and brown leather chaps?
Yes please. He can arrest me any day. I’ll admit it, I have a crush on my sort-of-boss.
Nigel owns the business. Damon helps him run it.
Most of the time, I’m driving Nigel around or running errands for him, so it’s a rare treat to get to do anything for Damon.
“How can I help?” the woman behind the counter asks, snapping me out of my daydream.
“Hi. I’m here to pick up a costume for Damon Cole.”
She flicks her gaze up and down me. “You’re shorter than you claimed to be on the phone. I’m not sure the costume will fit you.”
My face heats up. “Oh. I’m not Damon. I’m just picking up the costume for him.
He’s around six feet.” Which is the limit of my ability to estimate someone’s height.
He’s taller than me by roughly half a foot, and his shoulders are broader.
He has big hands, too, perfect for— I blink, smile and focus on the moment.
“I’m sure whatever he’s ordered will fit him. ”
“Uh-huh.” She turns to a rail behind her and, after a little bit of searching, takes a bag off it. “It’s prepaid, and he signed the rental agreement online. Tell him he needs to bring it back by noon on the twenty-seventh.”
“I’ll make sure it’s returned on time.”
The bag is black, which means the only way to get a sneak peek is to open it. I can’t do that. I shouldn’t do that.
“Oh, you need the hat.”
Hat?
She takes a black box off the top of the rail and puts it on the counter beside the costume.
I’m far too curious now. “What costume did he order?”
“Scrooge.”
I press my lips together to stifle a laugh.
“Something funny?” the woman asks.
“No. No. Damon will make an excellent Scrooge.” I pick up the costume, loop it over my arm, grab the hat box, and whistle ’Jingle Bell Rock’ as I leave the store.
Damon will be a perfect Scrooge, and a sexy one at that. Can Scrooge be sexy? If it’s Damon in a costume, yes. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he’ll say ‘bah humbug’. It’s a thought that shouldn’t make me shiver with anticipation, but it does. Now I’m really looking forward to driving him to the charity ball.