Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Theo
All night long, the scene from my patio replays in my mind on a loop.
That’s dangerous, she had said.
And she’s never been more right. Dangerous is putting it lightly. I’m already in deep shit for being an inadequate jerk of a boss to my last assistant. The last thing I should be thinking about is kissing my new one.
I don’t break rules, I make them. I don’t develop attachments, I distance myself.
Yet, Marley has somehow started to become the exception I never planned on coming.
I’ve only known her for a month, and somehow, she’s already carved out space in my life. Slipping past walls I didn’t even realize had cracks.
I drag a hand down my face and stare at the ceiling, willing my brain to shut the hell up.
It doesn’t.
Instead, it repeats the way she whispered those words: That’s dangerous. Like she knew exactly what I was talking about. Like she felt it too.
After my idiotic little stint on the patio, I called one of the driving services that I trust with my life to drive her home.
There was no way in hell I was going to let her leave in the back of some sketchy cab.
And the alternative of having her stay the night at my place would be equally as impossible.
I’m not sure how much longer I can control myself from making a move that could unravel everything.
She’s the best assistant I’ve ever had, and I can’t afford to jeopardize a job she’s relying on.
Marley is the only thing I’ve wanted in a decade.
And of course, fate makes her the one thing I can’t have.
My selfish wants cannot be acted upon under any circumstances.
Which is why when I get to the office, I try to put back that buffer of distance. She arrives shortly after I do, her heels tapping a steady rhythm against the floor as they draw closer and closer, until her head pops through my doorway, a full smile already in place.
“Good morning, boss,” she says, far too chipper for the early hour.
“Morning,” I grumble, sounding miserable even to my own ears.
She winces. “Hangover? Sounds like you could use a little ibuprofen.”
Before I can tell her my mood has nothing to do with a hangover, she’s already gone, off to the kitchen in search of medicine that won’t fix anything.
What I have? It’s beyond repair.
Nonetheless, I let her chalk up my out-of-order energy to drinking too much the night before. It’s easier this way, for the both of us, to pretend like it isn’t the start of anything more.
Minutes later, she waltzes back in, hips swinging gently side to side in a pencil skirt that has the ability to snap my willpower in half.
She deposits the pills into my palm, hands me a cup of black coffee, then settles into the chair across from me.
She watches me closely until I take the pills, like she thinks I’ll toss them into the trash when she isn’t looking.
“So,” she begins. “Did you sleep well last night?”
I swallow the pills in one gulp. “I’ve slept better.”
It’s the first truth I’ve told all day. Because after she stepped into that sleek black car, after I watched the door shut between us, I stood there.
Feeling helpless for countless reasons, as I slipped a hundred into the driver’s hand, instructing him to make sure she got inside her building before pulling away.
I should’ve been the one to drive her. Should’ve been the one to watch her walk through her door, to see for myself that she was safe.
Unfortunately, I stupidly drank too much. Let myself lose control when I should’ve been on alert instead.
And then, she rolled down her window, snapping me out of my thoughts like a twig breaking underfoot.
“Happy birthday, Theo,” she said, light and cheery, smiling like I was someone she genuinely cares about.
As they drove off, I stood there feeling like my world had been rocked. I’ve purposely pushed down feelings for years, and now it’s as if I feel everything all at once.
“Hey, while you’re here,” I begin, changing the subject. “I’m supposed to be presenting at a conference soon. Unfortunately, you may or may not have been able to tell that public speaking is not my forte. Think you could call around and find some miracle worker who could give me pointers?”
“I can coach you,” she replies easily. Like she’s offering to teach me how to tie a tie, not face my worst nightmare.
No fucking chance. Not with my restraint so thin a light breeze could rip through it.
I straighten the pen near my desk, giving myself a second to think about how to turn her down without sounding rude. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure you have better things to do than coach your boss through a public speaking meltdown.”
She leans forward, elbows on my desk. “Please. I was head of the debate team in high school. Sure, it was amateur level, but I was obnoxiously good at it.”
“I believe it. You’ve got that … persistent energy.”
Narrowing her eyes, she says, “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment, but I’m going to pretend it was a compliment.”
“It’s a good thing,” I confirm. “I also think you’re severely underestimating how uncoachable I am.”
Her smile spreads slowly, like she’s savoring every second. “Good. I like a challenge. Makes the victory sweeter.”
“Should I be worried?”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Only if you don’t listen.”
Fuck. Me.
Her threat goes straight to my dick. I’m hard instantly, the ache immediate and impossible to stop. And now all I can think about is what happens if I don’t listen. What she’d do. What I’d let her do.
I need to get a grip. She’s twenty-eight. I’m forty. This is a fantasy I should shut down before it goes anywhere.
But when I glance up, she’s already watching me with that same mischievous look, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. And when she bites her bottom lip, I’m done for. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel so impossible. It feels inevitable.
Whatever is between us is already burning. A slow fuse crawling toward the moment everything explodes. One day soon, I’m going to cross a line I can’t uncross. And I’m not sure I’ll even be sorry.
Between back-to-back meetings, conference calls, and finalizing quarterly reports, I barely step foot out of my office for the remainder of the week. The only things I’ve seen more than spreadsheets and contracts are the four dark walls surrounding me.
Besides the occasional passing good morning, I haven’t seen much of Marley either. We haven’t spoken anymore about her coaching offer, which I’m both relieved and disappointed about. So come Friday afternoon, when a text from her pops up, I’ve never grabbed my phone so quickly.
Marley
Serious question, but what are your thoughts on having a company-wide karaoke competition?
Theo
My thoughts are that I think I’d rather die.
Marley
I love your drama. Is that a yes?
Theo
Would there be a prize, or is public humiliation the reward?
Marley
Depends if you see it as humiliation, or good old-fashioned team bonding with a side of emotional damage.
Marley
Speaking of emotional damage, when are we practicing this speech of yours?
I run a hand down my face.
I’m fucked.
I was hoping she’d forget about that. It’s bad enough that I’m not skilled in public speaking, but to put a spotlight on those deficiencies in front of the woman I’m very, very attracted to, seems like pure torture.
Theo
I appreciate the offer, but you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have better plans.
Marley
We’re doing it. No need to pay someone to help you when you have me at your disposal.
She says it like it’s simple. Like this won’t be a slow, torturous test of everything I’ve been trying not to feel. But fuck it, there’s no way I can say no to her.
Theo
If you’re free tonight, we can stay late. I’ll feed you. And pay you for your trouble, of course.
Marley
Don’t worry about paying me. You already won me over with your company and food. Plus, the entertainment value alone will be worth it. (Kidding.)
Theo
Why do I already regret this?
Marley
I promise I’ll be nice … ish.
With the amount of work on my plate, I have enough to keep me busy without stressing about it for the next several hours. It still doesn’t curb the number of times I look at the clock. I promise myself not to work late, so as not to keep her waiting all night.
At five p.m. on the dot, the pizza delivery arrives, and the entire floor instantly fills with the smell of cheesy garlic.
Exiting my office, I find Marley rising from her desk chair, stretching her arms above her head like a graceful sort of house cat.
“Thank god, you came out. My mouth is watering,” she says.
We walk to the conference room where a few pizza boxes are stacked on the table. I had no idea what type of pizza she likes, so I ordered enough to feed a small party. “I hope pizza is okay,” I begin. “I know it’s not particularly fancy, but …”
She walks over and touches my shoulder, light and breezy and reassuring. “You don’t have to make excuses for pizza, Theo,” she cuts in. “It was a solid choice. Besides, I don’t require ‘fancy.’”
She takes slices out of a few of the boxes, because of course someone like her is willing to try something new every time. Whereas I, on the opposite side of the spectrum, never venture from my typical routine or choices.
While we eat, I notice things about her I hadn’t before. Little details that stand out now that it’s only the two of us here after hours under the glow of the conference room lights.
The way her foot bounces slightly as she chews, like a quiet little happy dance over food.
How completely in the moment she is, focused on the food, our conversation, like nothing outside of this room exists. I envy the way she lives in the moment, not even seeming to be in her head, questioning herself.
Marley James is slowly becoming the friend I never expected to have, and that’s a problem. Because friends don’t think about what their assistant’s mouth might feel like when it’s not running.