Chapter 2
VEDA
Three in the afternoon and I still hadn't met Asher Locke the way his brother told me I would.
Then Sherise, the HR lady, introduced me to the entire communications team and a few board members before finally leading me toward the offices of the C-suite.
"And," she said, heels clicking as she sashayed out of the elevator across the expensive Italian marble floors, "you'll be expected to dress more professionally.
" Her eyes swept down across my tight skirt and low-cut shirt, which Clayton assured me during our "introduction" was perfect for the job.
"Mr. Locke isn't called the intern eater for no reason. "
I should've known better than to listen to anything he said. I didn't like that I'd been on the job less than eight hours and someone was already pointing out my outfit.
I was a sensible woman who, under normal circumstances, would've been wearing a fitted pantsuit and comfortable shoes.
This didn’t even feel like me, but then it wasn't, was it? I was here to play a role, and so far, I felt I was doing a good job.
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered in reply as we approached a desk where a petite woman hunched over a desk typing away on a computer keyboard.
Her cropped curls made her look like an old, miserly lady, but when she lifted her head I could see by her clear complexion and smooth skin that she was probably not much older than me.
"Penny, this is Ms. Porter… Mr. Locke's new…" She hesitated before saying, "Intern." It almost felt shameful the way she said it, like some unspoken thing passed between them in the single word.
After what Clayton told me Friday night at the bar, I wondered how much these women knew about Mr. Asher's drinking issue and the need to have someone shadowing him more closely than his secretary could.
Though, if it was that bad, there was no doubt in my mind that his secretary knew about it.
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Porter." Penny stood and offered her hand.
"Veda, please," I said, accepting the friendly gesture. "It's nice to meet you."
Penny flicked her hand at Sherise and the grumpy older woman retreated, but I noticed her glancing over her shoulder at me as Penny gestured toward the door labeled Asher Locke: CEO in black letters on a gold plaque.
"He's having a bit of a mood today," Penny warned, moving closer to the door. "But I assume you understand this is an out of the ordinary situation." She paused, hand on the knob, as I nodded at her.
"Mr. Locke explained it to me—I mean, Clayton." I swallowed a lump in my throat.
I wasn't sure what he told anyone or how much to give away.
Obviously, I wasn't going to tell Penny I was here to seduce her boss and take him down, but Clayton had to have told them about the babysitting part.
"Yes, well, Mr. Locke doesn’t care for his brother much." She winced. "Either one of them.
They don’t get along well.
It's a sibling thing, I think…
But Clayton has concerns about Mr. Locke's performance.
Your position as intern will help in ways I can't really be privy to, that's all." I found it funny how she'd say "Clayton" but not use Asher's first name.
I wondered if it was a respect thing.
Penny didn't appear happy to be showing me in, though, which made me feel a bit uneasy.
"I assure you, I just want to do a good job, and this internship, as unconventional as it is, will help me get a job in this field, which is all I want." I didn't even have to force the smile.
All of it was true.
I had to get away from bartending and get into a paid job in my field. It would double or triple my income, which would set me up for my future.
As it was, taking this temporary job at Locke Global meant reducing my hours at The Pub, so Clayton's money would be put to good use.
"Well, good. Mr. Locke just needs a bit more of a helping hand right now." She winced again but didn't explain more.
It felt awkward, like she knew something I didn't but she wasn't at liberty to express it, and I felt too shy to ask about it.
Without waiting for me to respond, Penny opened the door and breezed into Asher's office.
Immediately, I smelled the stench of whiskey and a faint trace of cigar smoke.
I followed after her, noticing the blinds pulled on all the windows—those facing out over the city, and those separating his office from the hallway and offices beyond.
He sat at his desk with his eyes shut, and it looked like he was swaying.
"Mr. Locke, your new intern is here… The one we mentioned could help with some of the—"
"Get out," Asher grunted, and I heard his words slur. Yep, drunk.
I was shocked by how gruff he was, especially when Penny waddled up to his desk and swept a pile of receipts into her hand.
"This is Veda Porter, handpicked for you by a few board members. They think she'll—"
"I said. Get. Out." Asher's eyes popped open and he glared at Penny as I walked closer.
My work was definitely being cut out for me right before my eyes.
He was a tool, a major curmudgeon and an obvious alcoholic.
"It's okay," I whispered, touching her arm. "I've got this."
Years of bartending had taught me how to handle drunks.
Asher Locke was nothing more than a belligerent customer who needed to be put in his place with a firm hand and a warm heart, and I had enough experience to do just that.
Penny smiled apologetically and slunk out carrying her receipts. I stood there surveying the damage.
Asher had a mostly empty bottle of tequila on his desk and bloodshot eyes.
The puffy bags under them told me he'd been at this awhile and was tired.
And the way his tie was loosened and his shirt was open at the top meant he'd grown weary of conventional trappings.
If I met this guy in a bar, I’d have to ask his story, find out why he was so drunk and hurting himself with it.
But I wasn’t in a bar, and that wasn't my job here.
My job was to make this man eat me alive and record it so Clayton could get someone in this position who could run the company.
And it was obvious to me from first glance that Asher Locke had no business being CEO of anything.
"Sit down," he grumbled, and I obeyed him, crossing my legs conscientiously so as not to expose more of myself than necessary right away.
His eyes didn't even track to my legs, or the fact that my top was practically screaming "look at my tits." He scowled and looked at his bottle then said, "So, you're the babysitter?"
"No, sir. I'm your new communications intern. I'll be—"
"Says you went to," he grunted, leaning toward his computer screen. His eyes narrowed and then he rubbed them, but for all the squinting in the world, it appeared he couldn't read the screen.
I almost wondered if he had glasses somewhere he was missing, which would be a shame.
If Clayton had the bluest eyes in the family, Asher had the most perfect face for them.
He was handsome, and not in the "ooh, that guy's cute" sort of way. Asher Locke would put the GQ Man of the Year to shame.
His face screamed, I make adorable babies, and my groin warmed at that thought.
Screwing him would not be a problem at all.
He'd have me eating out of his hand.
"The Ohio State University, sir. I studied business communications. That's why I'm—"
"I get it." His dismissive wave of a hand annoyed me. Though he wasn't as rude as Clayton was. "But this…" He pointed at the screen, and this time, I was certain of the swaying.
He couldn't even sit straight.
How long had he been drinking today?
And how did he work with so much alcohol in his system?
I waited. I tried to be patient, but it was killing me. This was only a formality, anyway.
Clayton assured me the job, so whatever interview Asher thought he was giving me was a moot point.
It felt torturous to sit here waiting for his questioning when there was real work to be done, and I got a spark of inspiration.
I rose, walking around his desk while his delayed reactions had his eyes still locked on his computer screen, and right away, as I stooped to bend over his shoulder, I saw my resume.
My chest brushed his shoulder as I pointed at the screen, reaching right past him.
"See? OSU… Labeled right there." Here I was pressing my chest to his shoulder, and Mr. Locke was more interested in my portfolio than the press of my body on his. Either he was way too drunk or this was going to be a lot harder than I thought.
"Yes, I see," he slurred and kept reading. "Bachelor’s in communications, with an emphasis in…"
His words trailed off as I let my eyes wander lower.
His desk was a mess for sure, but right in front of him was a press release that looked set to go out today, except there were errors.
In the first line alone I spotted two spelling errors, and if this got out to the press, it wouldn’t look good for the company's reputation.
I could see exactly why Clayton thought Asher was bad news.
"Mr. Locke, did you want some help proofing this press release?" I picked it up, noticing more errors the more I looked it over. "I mean, that's why I'm here, right? To help out?"
"Give me that," he said ,snatching it from my hand hastily. I felt startled as I straightened, but I wasn't going to take crap from him, drunk or not.
"There are typos there that need to be fixed or you'll look bad. Let me help out."
Asher narrowed his eyes at the paper and then up at me, and every single movement was lethargic and exaggerated.
He scowled, then he dropped the paper on his desk and ran a hand over his face.
"Fine, fix it," he grumbled, and he stood so fast, we were chest to chest.
It was a slightly awkward dance as we traded spots and in less than five minutes, while he poured himself another shot of tequila, I had the release retyped and sent to the printer.
As the machine spooled up and whirred to life, I felt a swell of pride in my chest.
Already, I was settling in and finding ways to be practically useful around here.
It was the environment I dreamed of, a corporate office with skirts, suits, and official business.
Not at all like wearing jeans and hoodies to a bar on the weekend hoping for tips.
That surge of pride in myself brought a grin to my face as I stood and realized Asher hadn't backed up at all.
He was still standing right over me where our awkward dance left him.
Our bodies were almost pressed together shoulders to knees, and he had one hand on his desk to steady himself.
"It's, uh… It's done, sir." I was flustered, face hot, hands sweaty.
And Asher was staring down the front of my shirt where, after that bit of leaning over his shoulder, my black, lacy bra was no longer hidden under the camisole.
My tits were plumped like two large, soft pillows waiting for his tired head to rest and his mouth was agape.
He might as well have been drooling.
I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw a man who was lost. He wasn't just some stubborn, angry drunk.
In my years of bartending, I knew people didn't just go fill their gullet with whiskey because it was fun and normal.
Men like this had secrets, maybe buried skeletons, or trauma they had endured.
Asher Locke wasn't a bad guy.
He was messed up.
Something, maybe that thing that Penny winced about—the one she didn't mention but I knew was likely the driving force—had hurt him really badly.
And drinking was the only way he found to cope with it.
He was broken, not bad, and I felt a surge of guilt and shame as he licked his bottom lip.
It was the reaction he was supposed to have.
A hot woman in front of him, thick with curves and ready to please.
I stood right in front of him and he was drooling, and I felt like a piece of dog doo on the bottom of his shoe for pushing my chest out in front of him.
"I fixed it, sir…" I said softly, my conscience getting the better of me. I couldn't just throw myself at him when he was this drunk.
It was morally reprehensible—taking advantage.
I knew that. But it was so perfect.
All I'd have to do is put his hand on my chest and nature would do the rest. I bet if I touched his crotch, I'd find him hard as a rock.
"Fixed," he slurred, and for some God-forsaken reason his hand moved from the desk to my hip and made my entire body ignite.
I sucked in a breath of total shock.
His eyes never left my chest.
God, it would've been so easy to pluck this low-hanging fruit.
And like I said—cover of a ladies’ porn magazine hot.
I pictured his abs hardened and bronzed under that shirt, and when he leaned forward and rested his forehead on mine, finally closing his eyes, I didn’t back away.
"Sir…" I said hesitantly, but he didn't respond. "Asher," I said more forcefully as he pulled me against his body.
All I could think was how this was too easy.
He was too drunk.
I felt too guilty.
He reeked of whiskey, but the cologne was intoxicating.
And wow, the way he made my body feel alive.
If only he were sober.
And if only I hadn't left my phone in my purse in the HR office.
I couldn’t even record this if I wanted to, and I couldn’t ruin this shot.
Clayton already paid me half of the million dollars.
Screwing up now meant getting fired.
Bad idea.
"Asher, it's my first day… This is a bad idea…" The nurturing part of me took over. I knew I couldn't do the job today because I would never live with myself if I did it like this. "I think we should stop."
"Stop," he whispered, and he backed me one step closer to his desk. His chair pressed into my calves, and I inadvertently tipped my chin upward.
His lips were so close to mine, I could kiss him.
I could literally taste the whiskey on his breath, he was so close.
And then someone knocked on the door and snapped the tension.
I backed away quickly, pulling the rolling chair between us as Asher started to sink.
The door swung open to reveal Penny breezing in while looking down at a file in her hand, and I scurried to the printer that had long since stopped printing the corrected press release.
While Asher, still drunk as a skunk in summer, dropped to his chair and covered his face.
The blazing heat on my cheeks made me feel like hiding so I kept my back to her as she talked to him, and I realized this job wasn't at all what I thought.
I wasn't cut out for this.
The guilt was going to consume me, and I wanted out.
Asher needed help, not a scandal.
And I already took half of the money.
Worse yet, Penny was nurturing him and mothering him like a sick child.
Now who nurtures a mean, nasty drunk?
What if I'd gotten this all wrong?