6. Lenora
6
LENORA
“O kay. So.” Honor jabs her finger at an item on the very intimidating looking wedding spreadsheet she has going. “Now, we really need to schedule the bridesmaid dress fittings. Does this day work?”
My sister Sophie and I are stationed at a corner table of the coffee shop across from E so overwhelmed by the many requirements needed to become a functional, happy adult that I’m not doing anything at all.
Except fixating on my boss.
I eye the two women sitting across from me, suspiciously. Are daddy issues contagious? I make a mental note to do some research on the phenomenon I have found myself participating in. Or, at least, fantasizing about participating in.
As it turns out, the heated energy between us on New Year’s was not a fluke. Nor, apparently, does my virginity or my newly fucked-up leg detract from his desire to screw me. After a full week of sitting just outside his office and feeling his eyes on me every time I move, I’m pretty confident that’s what he was up to when he took me along on the road trip to nowhere the other day, because there most certainly was no groundbreaking of an important project upstate.
I’ve been trying not to ask myself if I would be down for that now, because the answer isn’t pretty.
Yes.
Fuck yes.
Oh my god, please, yes.
“O-kay. I should go. This was fun!” I say loudly, slapping a smile on my face for the benefit of the women across from me. The strange looks suggest I’ve overdone it a bit, and I let my expression fall back to impassive.
Honor and Sophie watch me stand, and my sister’s eyes flit over my outfit. “Wait, you wore that to work?”
I glare at her. “Could you be any more judgemental?”
My sister sighs, rolling her eyes at Sophie as if to say, little sisters, am I right?
This doesn’t help my temper, and throwing her a filthy look, I turn on my heel. The storming off effect is kind of ruined by my cane, but I keep my nose in the air, aided by a lifetime of pretending not to be bothered by her opinion. Giving Honor the satisfaction of being right about anything goes against my rebellious little sister sensibilities.
That being said, she does have a point about the outfit.
There’s nothing inappropriate about it exactly, but it isn’t what I’d wear to an office job where my boss didn’t look like a six-foot-something Viking warrior king. The pencil skirt thing was an accident, but my four days of outfits since then most certainly haven’t been. Catching him looking at me, feeling the now-familiar weight drop into my core whenever his gaze lingers just a little too long… It feels good. Really good. Addictive, even.
So, because I have yet to find a hobby, I started doing it on purpose.
Today’s ensemble—comprised of the very same pencil skirt that kickstarted this whole thing, and a fitted, black lace blouse, lined with fabric to match my skin tone—might have been a touch too far. I’ve been getting double takes all day, but Holden choking on his coffee when I came in made it more than worth it.
I’m fighting a smile as I walk across the street and back through the doors of E&V, remembering my usually smooth-talking, smirking boss reduced to hurriedly dabbing brown liquid off the front of his shirt. Is this what people mean when they talk about job satisfaction? Somehow, I doubt it, but considering this is the most chipper I’ve been in months, I’m not going to complain.
Most of the team is still at lunch when I get back into the office, and Holden is nowhere in sight as I drop into my desk chair, wiggling my computer mouse to bring up the login screen. Today’s mind-numbing task is inputting all the staff birthdays into the company calendar so their coworkers can shower them with obligatory attention—whether wanted or not.
I fight a smile as I read the name on the next line.
Lenora M. Vogel — May 2 nd
Without inputting a single thing, I check myself off and skip to the next line. As I do, a woman entering the room catches my attention. I’ve never seen her before, and while it’s not impossible a client wandered up here, it doesn’t seem likely.
She looks… worn. Her blonde hair is clearly dyed, and pulled back from her heavily lined face. In a building full of professionals, she stands out like a sore thumb in a cheap blouse, jeans, and a knock-off purse that’s so stuffed full it’s bursting at the seams. She scans the room, and I still as her eyes come to rest on me.
“Can I help you?” I ask in my most polite, customer service voice as she makes a beeline directly for my desk, a heavily laden handbag swinging from her arm.
“Hi, honey,” she says as she approaches, glancing into Holden’s empty office behind me. “Do you know when your boss will be back?”
“I don’t, but it should be soon.” I check the clock in the corner of my computer screen. Technically, everyone at E&V gets an hour for lunch, but if we take less, we have the option to subtract the unused time from the end of our day and go home early. As such, almost nobody but our workaholic leaders, Dad and Holden, actually use the full hour.
“I’ll wait.” The unnamed woman nods distractedly, reaching into her purse to pull out a pack of nicotine gum and popping a piece into her mouth. She shows no sign of moving from the spot directly in front of my desk.
“Do you want me to text him?” I offer, because even from four feet away, the cigarette smoke is clinging to her clothing and is making my throat hurt.
The woman chews her gum loudly, leaning over to examine a silver-framed architecture award on the wall beside my desk. “Oh, sure. That would be great.”
“Who should I tell him is here?”
She shoots me an annoyed look, but just as her mouth opens with a reply, a familiar voice cuts through the quiet room. “ Mom? ”
My jaw goes slack as I watch the woman—Holden’s mother, apparently—turn to face her son. “Well hey there, sweetpea!” She beams, opening her arms for a hug.
Holden’s expression is stony as he strides across the room and offers her a brief, perfunctory embrace. “What are you doing here?” he demands, and though I’m only a few feet away from them, he doesn’t acknowledge me at all.
“I was in the area.”
“Come into my office,” he tells her briskly and turns on his heel, walking through the door without a backward glance at either of us.
His mother sighs heavily and follows. The door closes, and the room is plunged, yet again, into near silence. The only other inhabitants are busy at their computers, noise-canceling headphones in place, and apparently oblivious to what just transpired.
If I’d ever stopped to guess Holden Ellinger’s origin story, I would have assumed it included elite boarding schools, sailing lessons, and a massive trust fund. He certainly acts that way. The way he speaks and dresses, the carefree, cocky charisma that must have charmed the panties off way more women than I’d care to imagine… All of it. Even now, I can’t quite reconcile any alternative.
It takes all my self-control to keep my attention on my job and not peek over my shoulder as the minutes pass. People are starting to return from lunch, some of them glancing curiously into the office behind me, but I stare determinately at my computer. When the soft brush of a glass door opening comes to my right, however, I can’t resist any longer.
Looking over, I watch as Holden’s mother steps back into the office, her lips pursed and her eyes rimmed with red. She pauses, shoving her hand into her bag for another piece of gum, and catches my eye with a scowl. “Mind your own business, missy.”
“Don’t speak to her that way.” Holden’s sharp tone sends my heart into my throat as his towering form appears in the doorway, glaring at his mother. “Leave. Before I have security escort you out.”
The woman looks between us with a bitter smile. “Always the same,” she says with a nasty little laugh and sets off again, head held high and handbag swinging from her arm like a wrecking ball. Holden and I watch until she’s gone, and as I turn to look back at him, my mouth opening as I prepare to say something , I see the door to his office closing yet again.
He doesn’t reemerge for the rest of the day. Whenever I get up to do something, I can see him at his computer, brow furrowed and fingers flying over the keyboard. He doesn’t look at me, or anyone else for that matter, and the whole thing makes me feel kind of sick.
There is more to my father’s funny, easygoing business partner than meets the eye, and I’m not sure why it bothers me so much that I didn’t see it until now.
I should check on him.
We’re friends, right? Or, at least, friendly? He knows that I saw what happened, so if I didn’t ask, wouldn’t it come off as me not caring?
My fingers pause over the keyboard, my heart beating a touch faster than usual. Do I care? It’s one thing to enjoy the way he looks at me, it’s a whole other for Holden Ellinger to matter to me. He does, though, and I do care.
“See you tomorrow, Leni!” call a few of my new coworkers as they pass, waving on their way to the door.
“Goodnight!” I reply a beat too late. Somewhere in my preoccupation about Holden, the room emptied for the night. Desks are unoccupied, and computers are still and dark. The only sound is the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the distant rumble of traffic out on the street.
Biting my lip, I peek over my shoulder. Holden is where I last saw him, but now, an electronic pencil is in his hand as it moves freely over a huge tablet. Like me, he seems oblivious to the departure of his team, and his lips are pressed into a flat line, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Swallowing back my apprehension, I stand, edging around the back of my desk and over to Holden’s office door. It whispers over the old wood floor as I push it open, causing him to look up, his eyes darting from my face, down my body, then back again. His throat bobs. “Can I help you?”
I move further into the room, closing the door behind me in the off chance somebody comes back. “I just wanted to check on you. You seemed a little rattled after, you know, earlier.”
Slowly, Holden lays the e-pencil down beside his tablet, staring at me. “You wanted to check on me,” he echoes as I stop right in front of his desk.
“Yeah. It didn’t exactly seem like you were expecting her and, well…” I trail off, feeling stupid for thinking this was a good idea. The way he’s looking at me, it’s like I’ve just come in here and told him I want to be an astronaut. “Do you know what? Never mind. I shouldn’t have butted in.”
As I take a step back, Holden shakes his head. “No. It’s fine. I—” He seems to cast around for the correct words. “I don’t have the easiest relationship with my family.”
My hands snake around my middle, holding myself. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He smiles weakly, brushing it aside.
We stare at each other for a long moment as his words sink in. Then, my gaze falls to the drawing still illuminated on the tablet before him, and I feel my eyes widen.
“Oh, wow,” I breathe, moving to the side of the desk so I can see it clearly. “Holden, that’s so beautiful.”
It’s a conceptual drawing of a house, one that I’ve definitely never seen before, and very different from the kind of work Holden’s team usually takes on. It’s as if pieces of the building have been chipped away, replaced with glass, and I tilt my head, gazing down at the design, which manages to be contemporary and organic at once.
“Thank you.”
My heart flutters as I look up to meet a pair of intensely blue eyes. Neither of us looks away.
“Who is it for?” I manage to ask in a quiet rush, hyperaware of the slickness coating my panties that definitely wasn’t there a few minutes ago. When I came in here, I had the purest of intentions, really, I did.
Then, he looked at me, and now… Now, all I can think about is walking around to the back of his desk, sinking to my knees between his parted legs…
As if he knows what I’m thinking, Holden leans back in his chair, his fingers digging into the edge of the desk. “I’ll answer your question if you answer one for me in exchange.”
I swallow, and my heart is pounding so wildly that in the silence of the office, there’s no way he can’t hear it. “Okay.”
The word is out of my mouth before I can think better of it, and, as Holden’s lips curve into a smirk, I know I’ve taken a misstep. “It’s for no one,” he tells me calmly. “I just like to draw.”
Oh boy. Straightening up, I cross my arms, staring at him and willing myself not to run from the room as quickly as my dumb leg will allow. Why would I have agreed to that exchange? Is this man so hot he scrambles my brain? Seriously, I should have known that was dumb…
Holden’s head tilts slightly as he studies me, obviously enjoying my tension.
“I should be getting home?—”
“Why have you been dressing like that?”
My thundering heart stalls. “Like what?” I ask, glancing down at my outfit, as if I have no idea what he’s talking about.
My boss lifts an eyebrow, his expression arranged into one of amused skepticism. “Don’t lie to me, princess.” His eyes rake over my body without apology, lingering far longer than could ever be considered casual. “Answer the question.”
I blow out an unsteady breath as heat floods my body. He wants to put it out there? Fine. “I like you looking at me.”
Holden nods slowly, thoughtfully. Then, pushing his chair away from the desk, he looks past me into the main office space, at the rows of empty desks.
“What are you—Holden!” His name comes out in a squeal as, without warning, my boss reaches out to grab my wrist, pulling me toward him so abruptly that I stumble. The air is pushed from my lungs as I find myself face down across his lap, staring at the floor with my ass in the air.
An impatient growl sounds above me, and before I can make any attempt to right myself, my skirt is being pulled up around my waist. Beneath, I’m wearing tights and a plain white thong, but soon the top layer is gone, too, shoved down below my butt.
The sound of his hand hitting my flesh is almost more unexpected than the feeling of it. Squealing, I buck against him, trying to push off the edge of the chair, but it’s no use. Holden keeps one hand on my lower back, pressing me down as he delivers four more spanks to my bare ass.
“If you’re determined to be a goddamn cocktease, there will be consequences, Lenora.” His voice is rough with want, and I gasp as I feel the long, hard line of his erection pressing against my stomach. Another round of spanks, and I stare at the floor, dizzy with shock and arousal.
Holy shit.
My face burns as he grips my ass in both hands, squeezing the burning flesh harshly. “Consider this a warning. The next time you decide to put on a little show to get my dick hard, you’ll get more of the same.” He spanks me again, hard enough to make me cry out as my clit throbs and arousal coats the narrow strip of fabric covering my pussy. If I parted my legs even an inch, he would be able to see exactly what this is doing to me.
So, I do it.
My thighs inch apart, and above me, there’s a low, furious curse. I can feel Holden’s chest heaving as the rush of blood makes my ears ring. Against my stomach, his cock twitches. Seconds pass in which neither of us moves, and every one of them is unbearable.
I open my mouth, preparing to beg, to plead for him to keep going, to touch me like I need him to… Then his hands are gone.
Face burning, I scramble to my feet, adjusting my tights and skirt. Holden stares up at me from his chair, looking as stunned at what just transpired between us as I am, his erection still straining against his slacks.
“I’m sorry,” he says at last, his voice strained. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He’s rattled, but so am I. My pulse is still racing, my breathing still ragged, and it takes me two tries to remember how to speak. I should tell him I’ll stop trying to torture him, or that I’m sorry too, or any number of things that would diffuse the sudden tension between us.
But since when have I done what I was supposed to?
I smirk, drawing backward toward the door. “See you tomorrow, boss.”