3. Holden
3
HOLDEN
I ’ve done a lot of perverted shit in my life, but jerking off to a performance of the Nutcracker might be a new low.
Well, not new new, as I’ve been doing it for months. At forty years old, however, the phenomenon is a relatively recent development. Before I started getting hard for the fucking Sugar Plum Fairy, I got hard for normal things. While some of those “normal” things might push the limits of what many of my prudish countrymen would consider typical, again, one needs to look at the bigger picture.
Bondage and threesomes are pretty tame when you think that somewhere out there, some guy is dry humping the hood of his 1988 Toyota Camry.
I’ll take Sugar Plum Fairy perversion over car humping any day of the week. However, admittedly, the problem didn’t seem quite as pressing when the cause for my sudden interest in ballet wasn’t an active part of my life.
Sure, lately I’ve paid more attention when Bram mentioned his daughter. Sure, I’ve asked after her recovery more than I would have ordinarily, and obsessively checked her social media accounts in the hope I’d gain some insight into her daily life, or—better yet—lay eyes on her for the first time since New Year’s.
All that was harmless, and if I felt a little guilty over being this attracted to Lenora Vogel, it was easy enough to dismiss. After all, I wasn’t going to do anything about it, was I? I tried, and she turned me down. That’s the end of it. It’s not as if I was planning to show up on her doorstep and beg her to fuck me, even if, after six months of abstinence, I’m beginning to suspect my dick is on the verge of falling off.
I hadn’t counted on ever spending an extended amount of time with her, and I certainly hadn’t expected for her to take up residence at the desk directly outside my office, perched on the rolling chair like a beautiful, sullen statue.
Throughout the entire morning meeting, my eyes are drawn to her, over and over again. She doesn’t say a single word or acknowledge any of her new coworkers apart from a brief, pained smile around the room when I make introductions. When it’s over, she retreats to her new desk, knuckles white on the handle of her pink, sparkly cane.
Going about my typical daily routine was a challenge. No matter what I did, the awareness of her presence seemed to linger at the edge of my mind, and along with it, the knowledge that if I looked around, I could set eyes on the woman who had become the object of my fantasies over the past few months.
It’s a relief when she goes to lunch.
My respite doesn’t last long, however. I’ve barely collapsed back in my chair, a headache blurring the edges of my vision and my dick painfully hard, when Bram strolls into my office.
“Hey.” I sit up straighter, attempting a casual smile. “What’s up?”
My business partner closes the door behind himself and takes the seat across from mine. “I wanted to thank you,” he tells me, “for taking on Len. I suspect having her on my team wouldn’t have worked out.”
Oh, hell. I scrub a hand over my stubble. “Does she want to work here?” If the perpetual frown is any indication, taking an administrative assistant role at her father’s business was not Leni’s idea.
Bram winces at the question. “She wants to be dancing, but obviously, that isn’t going to happen.” He rakes a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “She’s been cooped up in Honor and Sophie’s apartment for months. Frankly, at this point, I’m happy she’s putting on pants and doing something other than watching game shows all day.”
It’s difficult to swallow past the lump lodged painfully in my throat. “I’m happy to help.”
This was not the sentiment I wanted to express. Now that the shock has worn off, I could have come up with any number of reasons why having Leni on my team would be far, far less ideal than having her on Bram’s. Getting rid of her before this fixation sinks its claws any deeper into me seems paramount.
It’s too late, though. Bram is already nodding, offering me a grateful smile. “It’s appreciated. I didn’t come here to talk about Leni, though.”
“No? Did you miss my face, Bram Cracker ?”
He groans. “Who told you about that?”
I wave my hand vaguely at the surrounding building. “Everyone, old friend. Everyone. Does Sophie let you keep your balls attached to your person, or are they rolling around at the bottom of her purse with some lipstick?”
Choosing to ignore the question, Bram huffs, reaching into his pocket to remove a small white envelope. Slapping it down on my desk, he glares at me. “Honor’s engagement party is coming up and you still haven’t RSVP’d.”
Now, it’s my turn to groan. “Fuck, Bram. Don’t make me go to this. Can’t I just send a gift?”
Bram fixes me with a withering look. “You’ve known her since she was eight years old. Yes, you have to go. And no gifts, it’s donation only.”
“Right. I’m sure Daddy Warbucks can buy her all the salad spinners she could ever want.” I take the envelope, staring down at the curvy, embossed lettering. When the invitation arrived, I did little more than glance at it before tossing it aside, resolved to ignore it in the hopes I could get away with not going. Now, unbidden, a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminds me that Leni will almost certainly be in attendance.
I snatch a pen from the holder on my desk, scribble my name in the indicated place, and slash a line through the joyfully accepts box before shoving the thing back at Bram. “I’m going to wear sweatpants and a stained T-shirt.”
Unfazed, Bram stands, slipping the envelope back into his pocket. “Whatever you like.”
“I’m going to adopt a different accent at the top of every hour.”
“Sounds like a wonderful topic of conversation for the other guests.”
“I’m going to eat a burrito with extra cheese and beans immediately prior.”
This last one earns me a withering look. “You’re a child.”
No, I’m the fun, rich friend who avoids commitment like the plague. The fun, rich friend who has found himself in the unprecedented position of being wholly obsessed with a woman who has no interest in him, spending his nights jerking off to a video of her dancing across a stage in a tutu instead of fucking any of the very willing women in his contact list.
One can only assume there is some sort of karmic justice at play after decades of sprinting from commitment of any kind. Not that a commitment is what I want from Lenora. I want to fuck her, and it seems like a reasonable assumption that I’ve become fixated for the simple reason that I can’t.
Behind Bram, my gaze catches on Leni limping back into the room. Even clutching a cane and scowling, she manages to look more elegant and graceful than any other woman I’ve known, and as she folds herself into the chair behind her desk, my entire chest aches. Whatever the fuck this is, having her here is not going to end well.
With difficulty, I tear my eyes away from Leni and back onto her father. “Guilty as charged. Please be sure to warn the bride about my burrito requirements.”
Bram ignores me, striding from the room after one last weary, exasperated look. I watch as he pauses at Leni’s desk, saying something to her I can’t make out over the chatter in the office. She nods, smiling at him, but the moment he turns away, her expression falls.
It’s difficult to drag my eyes back to my computer, but even when I manage it, I can’t quite shake the uncomfortable, gnawing urge to look right back at her. Mercifully, yet another distraction arrives in the form of an email from our scheduling department.
For fuck’s sake.
Getting to my feet, I walk out into the main workspace, pausing beside Leni’s desk.
She looks up at me, lips pursed. “Did you need something?”
“Can you work late tonight, perchance? I’m sorry to do this to you on your first day, but a rather large prospective client has asked to move their pitch meeting with us up to tomorrow instead of Friday. I’ll need someone to assemble the packets for them.”
Leni’s expression doesn’t change, but she turns back to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’d rather not.”
I feel a flicker of annoyance. “Do you want to come in early tomorrow, then? This isn’t something that happens often, but it needs to get done.”
“I’d rather not do that, either,” she replies primly, without a hint of apology.
“Do you have better things to do, princess?”
She sighs, as if this conversation is an annoyance she’s being forced to engage in, and turns back to face me, an almost pitying expression on her face. “Pardon me for not getting excited about stapling pieces of paper together in this corporate hellhole.”
The image of putting her over my lap and spanking her tight little ass red appears in my mind’s eye. I ignore it. “Stapling pieces of paper together in this corporate hellhole is your job. If that’s too much for you to handle, then you should probably call it quits now.”
Leni leans back in her chair, and though she’s looking right at me, I get the sense that her mind is a million miles away. “Okay.”
The tension bleeds from my shoulders. “Great. A lot of people will be staying. I always get pizza. It’s not all bad, Len. I know this wasn’t your plan, but?—”
She scoffs. “Okay, as in, I quit. Not okay, I’m staying to staple pieces of paper together in the corporate hellhole.”
A few of my other team members are filing back into the room, conversing cheerfully and oblivious to the tension between me and the new administrative assistant. My mouth is unreasonably dry as I open it to respond. “You quit?”
“Yup.” Leni reaches into the drawer to take out her bag and stands, collecting her cane from where she left it leaning against the desk. “I would say this was fun, but it wasn’t. Have a good one, Holden.”
And she heads for the door.
For a moment, I’m frozen to the spot, mentally replaying the conversation we just had. What the fuck is wrong with her? Is she such a brat that she would rather rot away on her sister’s couch, rather than try to build a new life?
Recovering from the shock and bristling with irritation, I stride for the door. There is no point in following her, no reason for me to be pursuing this conversation. It’s none of my damn business, but even that doesn’t stop me. Leni is already at the front door when I emerge on the second-floor balcony, oblivious to the fact she’s being followed. Heart pounding, I jog down the marble stairs after her and duck outside onto the warm, sun-soaked sidewalk.
“Leni!” I yell, catching the attention of the petite ballerina, who pauses, looking back at me with her eyebrows raised.
When I approach, coming to a stop five feet away from her, Leni’s lips are pursed. “What?”
Jesus, she’s beautiful. Even being a bratty little princess, throwing a tantrum because she didn’t get her way, there’s no dismissing the way my body reacts to her. It’s as if every goddamn cell is screaming at me to close the distance between us, throw her over my shoulder, and eat her out against the nearest flat surface.
Blowing out a rocky breath, I gaze at her, shoving aside my attraction in favor of the annoyance I was so filled with a few minutes ago. “I’m just surprised,” I drawl, lifting my eyebrows. “You didn’t strike me as a coward.”
Her eyes flash, but Leni gives no other indication that my words have had an effect. “So, because I don’t want to do a job I hate, I’m a coward?” she asks coolly.
I don’t reply right away. A few members of Team V exit the building behind us, offering us polite smiles that do nothing to disguise their curiosity. Leni and I ignore them, and the moment they’re gone, I cross my arms, bracing myself for what I have to say.
“No,” I tell her flatly. “I think you’re a coward because you’d rather hide away in your sister’s apartment, feeling bad for yourself, than risk getting hurt again.”
There is more life in her than I’ve seen all day as she glowers at me, those dark eyes burning right through me over the stretch of concrete between us. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. How would you feel if you couldn’t design big, fancy buildings anymore?”
“Devastated,” I reply promptly, taking a step closer to her without thinking about it, and halting immediately, every muscle in my body pulled taut. “I’d be fucking devastated . Losing one thing you love doesn’t mean there aren’t others out there, though, and you sure as hell won’t find them on Honor’s couch. Do the goddamn job, Len, even if you hate it. Do it until something better comes along.”
Leni shakes her head, her jaw tight, as if she’s biting back the urge to yell at me. “Thanks for the inspirational speech, but I’ll pass. I’m going home.”
I can’t remember the last time I hated anything more than the flat, dead tone of her voice. What the hell is my problem? Nothing about this woman is my concern or business, and yet I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from pushing until I get a reaction out of her.
There must be some regions of my brain not exclusively dedicated to Lenora Vogel, because I manage to force my head to bob up and down in silent agreement.
Am I so fucked up over this woman that I’m now acting against my own self-interest? So what if she wants to quit after one day? Having her under my nose for forty hours a week was a recipe for disaster. It’s good if she leaves.
I don’t say that, however.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nod slowly. “We’ll be here until nine or so. If you decide you want to rejoin the land of the living, you’re welcome to come. If you don’t, I’ll assume I need to find a new administrative assistant.”
Leni stares at me for a long moment, and I don’t miss the way her free hand has balled into a fist at her side, nor the way her chest is rising and falling far too rapidly for a woman who hasn’t moved in several minutes.
Finally, her lips twist into a vicious smile. “Don’t hold your breath,” she spits, ripping her gaze from mine and turning on her heel, resuming her path home.
I watch her go, and there’s no use trying to convince myself that this is a good thing, that I’ve narrowly escaped becoming so goddamn hung up on Lenora Vogel, I may become desperate or stupid enough to actually do something about it. The sinking feeling in my stomach and the tightness in my chest tell a different story.
It’s been a long time since I cared enough about another person to worry.