10. Fiona
Chapter 10
Fiona
As I finished checking in books from the afternoon book drops, I stared at the dark window to Sawyer’s office for the seventy-millionth time that day. Where was he?
Then the back doors clicked open, startling me.
His classic black suit showed off the hard outlines of his muscles. His blue-gray, ominous eyes peered at me. It was like he was always on the edge of a growl. My heart soared as I thought about what we had done the day before in front of his office windows, in that tall building. Like I was some kind of whore. His whore. His plaything.
And I had enjoyed every minute.
I clutched the digital file in my pocket, keeping it hidden from his view. Maybe it was okay for him to be Sawyer. As long as I didn’t say his name and ‘please’ together like he wanted.
But there were other ways to win.
Sawyer greeted Erica with a charming smile, asking about her proposal, then immediately flicked two fingers at me, ushering me into his library office without a word. And I followed, like an obedient pet. I blushed furiously, frustrated with myself. It’s not like we were in his skyscraper office—we were in the library, in the only official office, with a window to the staff room. Would he expose me in front of Erica? It’s not like she was stuck in nonfiction right now. She was right there.
When he noticed my hesitation, amusement perked at his lips.
“Nothing like that today,” he said. I relaxed, slightly relieved, but also a little disappointed. A part of me wanted it to be a challenge. To show him he couldn’t decide everything. That if I wanted to have sex, we could do it on my time too. And those conflicting thoughts confused me. Frustrated me. Mentally and sexually. “Ever heard of Hatchcom Focus?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “What is it?”
“Research it,” he ordered.
My shoulders tensed. He wasn’t going to explain why or what I was doing?
“Well, I’m about to head out,” Erica said, poking her head into the office. “Unless you two need anything?” She eyed me, silently asking: Do you want me to save you?
“We’re good,” I said. Please go away so you don’t see me get used by our boss and enjoy it.
“What are you doing, anyway?” she asked, furrowing her brows.
“Research assignment,” I said.
“Interesting research,” she said, her tone sarcastic.
I ignored her jab and faced Sawyer. “What was it called?”
“Hatchcom Focus,” he said, nodding to Erica. “Care to join us?”
Please say no, I internally begged .
“We’re technically off the clock, right, boss?” she asked. Sawyer nodded, and the heat of his eyes was on me, waiting for me to make a move. To latch onto Erica’s excuse to leave, or tell her again that we were okay without her. “I’ve gotta get going,” Erica said, shaking her head. “Don’t you need to go, too, Fiona? We all know you have grad school to get back to.”
It was sweet of her. But could she not read my signals?
“I’m fine. Really,” I said. “This won’t take long.”
Or it could take all night, and I would probably be okay with that, I thought.
I pinched myself. No. Stop thinking like that. He’s using you.
And you like it, I argued back.
“Why are you looking up HCF, anyway?” Erica asked.
“HCF?” I asked.
“Hatchcom’s abbreviation,” she explained.
“They’re a competitor for the Feldman Farm,” Sawyer replied.
“But aren’t they a communications company?” Erica asked. Sawyer shifted but didn’t answer her question. “What does that have to do with cattle?”
Sawyer’s eyes focused on her with sudden intensity.
“We go after the same clients,” he said.
Then a memory surfaced: wasn’t Erica’s master’s degree in communications? Not that it meant anything in this context. But she’d certainly know more about Hatchcom Focus than me. So why wasn’t Sawyer asking her for help? Was it because he preferred me?
Still, I pleaded that she got the hint.
Erica shrugged. “All right. Out of my territory anyway. You two have fun.”
The back door clicked behind her, and for a long moment, Sawyer stared at the door, contemplating her. Jealousy rocked through me. Why was he looking at her like that? Was he through with me and ready to move on? Did they have a game of their own?
Or were they both playing me?
He broke his attention from the door and returned to me. “Where are you most comfortable working?” he asked.
“My computer?” It was one of the best computers in the building, though that wasn’t saying much. I still guarded it like it was my own device.
After I locked the doors and switched off most of the lights, making it obvious to any patrons that we were closed, we both went back to the staff room and sat at my computer. Colorful sticky notes decorated the monitor, and some half-chewed pens laid next to the keyboard.
“Do your magic,” Sawyer said.
My magic?
“Need me to spell it for you?” he asked.
“Or you could do this all by yourself,” I said, a flirtatious smirk on my face.
He grinned at my jab. “Please,” he added, gesturing toward the computer.
I did a basic search in our database. While the results were generating, I wondered if maybe Sawyer was just like that: constantly dashing back and forth between being the gentleman and the douchebag. Sometimes, he was cutting, but at least most of the time, like now, he was… pleasant. Maybe I even liked him.
But my dream—co-ownership of the library—came first, and that digital file in my pocket itched at me. I had been waiting to use the work computers to open it once we closed, but now I couldn’t do anything without Sawyer knowing I had stolen it from his office .
He was mostly nice. But I still wanted to win, even if that meant digging for dirt on him.
Maybe it was a bad idea. Disloyal, when he had continually protected me. But it’s not like I was going to give the file to the police. I didn’t even know what it was. Once I opened it, I would decide if it could help me learn what Sawyer truly wanted. And then, like a good, respectful opponent, I would put it back.
It’s not like he didn’t enjoy playing the upper hand with me.
The results popped up: Erica was right. Hatchcom Focus was a communication and consulting firm, though they seemed to specialize in business departures, with a specialization on legal teams. But the exact services they offered were vague.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What do they do, exactly?”
“Make sure people know what they’ve gotten themselves into,” Sawyer said.
“So, it’s like contract planning?”
“When the workers and other associates are already under contract, Hatchcom Focus comes in to make sure communications are clear.”
He knew more than the computer did. So again, why was he asking me to do this? Part of me hoped it was secretly a way to get closer to me, maybe even order me around for a while, but as my eyes glazed over the screen, he motioned for me to click the next digital resource, and that hope faded.
This was probably just work to him. Like everything else.
Because I was just work. Another job. A mildly amusing project to pass the time .
But something inside of me knew it wasn’t that. At least, not anymore.
“You don’t need my help for this,” I said.
“Your research skills are different from my team’s.” He leaned back in his seat. “I figured there was a chance—although a slim one—that you might find something different.”
Tenderness swirled inside of me. Did he respect my skills?
The computer froze. I smacked the screen. “Crap,” I muttered. I hit it again, willing it to work with a forceful love tap, but nothing changed.
“Happen often?” he asked.
I didn’t want to admit the truth or to seem like I was begging a rich guy to help us. He already wanted to trash the place, anyway.
“These computers were donated about three years before I started working here.” I didn’t mention that they had been refurbished, and therefore, were already outdated before they got here. “We were supposed to get new ones last year, but after we began the construction for the multi-purpose room, we only had money to update two of the patron computers.”
“You gave the new computers to the patrons?” he repeated.
“It’s easier than having to restart their computers every hour. Trust me.”
He clenched his jaw. “Fix it. I’ll be back.”
After I ended up unplugging and replugging the tower, the computer finally booted up. I typed in the search bar, but Sawyer’s words popped into my head: We go after the same clients. I glanced around to make sure I was alone, then put Sawyer’s office file in the port. A screen popped up, showing the contents of the drive, but when I tried to double-click the file, an error popped up: Action cannot be completed! I tried a different program, but the same error kept repeating.
“Crap!” I muttered again. But then I had another idea.
This was a database. It’s not like I was breaking into his personal files.
My heart pounded as I checked the time. When would he be back? How much time did I have left? I typed Feldman Farm, then clicked search.
The results were blank. Completely blank.
What was Sawyer hiding?
The lock on the back door clicked. I quickly put the file in my pocket and exited the search. Sawyer pushed the door open with his back, carrying a few large boxes with him. Another person dressed in similar attire brought in another huge package. Desktop computer pictures were printed on the cardboard. My stomach sank. What was he doing?
“Sawyer—”
He nodded to the man, who left and retrieved more boxes until finally, all the boxes had been brought inside. Six new computers. Then the man left. Sawyer grabbed one of the smaller boxes and carried it to me.
“You’ve gotta stop,” I insisted.
“You can set it up tomorrow during business hours,” he said, shoving the laptop’s box in my lap. “Don’t worry about it tonight.”
“I can’t accept that,” I said.
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
My cheeks flushed. “What about your business rental space idea?” I asked. “Isn’t this an extraneous expense?”
“Businesses can use computers,” he said. “But that laptop is yours.”
I shook my head. “Sawyer. ”
“You need it for school, yes?” He grabbed my hands, forcing me to hold the box. “If you win the game, you can give it back. But if I win,” he cocked a brow, “then you have to use it for the entire year you work for me. You’ll have to work for it.”
Seconds passed, the universe was crushing us closer together. Every time I objected, every hopelessly lustful reaction—it was like he knew me. And I didn’t understand why.
“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” he asked, breaking into my thoughts.
“Dinner?”
My lips parted, and a smirk traveled over his lips. “I told you, plaything,” he said in a low voice, “As much as I want to devour you, we’re not doing that right now.” My shoulders sank, and he laughed. “Such disappointment.”
“Well…” Skipping underwear had made me more sensitive than I had ever been before, but I didn’t admit that out loud.
“Dinner?” he asked again.
“I have class,” I said reluctantly.
“I’m actually impressed that you’re in school,” he said. My heart fluttered. “Despite a full-time job and a hard-ass boss.”
“You mean asshole boss,” I said. And an infatuation with that asshole boss.
“Don’t tempt me, plaything,” he winked. “I’m eager to show you what an asshole I can be. But this is your place, for now.” He pushed his chair back. “When it’s mine, I’ll take you wherever I want.”
My stomach twisted at those words. So help me, I wanted to know what he meant. Wanted him to say ‘screw it’ and take me right there. Everything inside of me craved his control, and yet he didn’t move .
Then the realization flashed through my mind: he wanted to make me beg. To say those two words.
Please, Sawyer.
And then he would give me what I wanted.
It was getting harder to resist.
“I’ve got to get going,” he said. I let out a breath, somewhat relieved, and a little discouraged. But his expression wasn’t arrogant for once; it was something else. Like he was seeing me for the first time.
Maybe he wasn’t touching me because he respected me.
Maybe he wasn’t as conceited as I had originally thought.
He put a finger under my chin. A wave of shock radiated through my body. How did he have so much power in one touch?
“Your sister has been bugging my brother to arrange a family night out,” he said. “So the next time you have a night off, we’ll meet in Pierce.”
“You’re not asking me; you’re telling me,” I tried, even though I secretly liked that he was demanding me, like he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer, because he wanted me that much.
“You don’t want to go?” he joked. “Even when I ask, I always get what I want.”
His mahogany scent consumed me. I wished he would press his lips to mine, swallowing me down into his depths. “Then ask me,” I breathed.
“Please, Fiona,” he chuckled, “Let me take you to dinner with our families.”
I smiled, satisfied with this small win, but the expression quickly dropped. What would I do when Maisie was around? Did she know I had been seeing Sawyer?
Was I seeing Sawyer? Or was this another game ?
“All right,” I said, unsure of what else to say.
He walked me out to my car, then watched as I drove away. At the apartment complex, the gate was broken, and consequently, permanently opened, so I entered without using the remote. The gate was mostly for show, anyway. It was an element to make older apartment complexes more attractive.
Once I was inside, I immediately got a text from Erica.
Are you okay? she typed.
Of course I was; why wouldn’t I be? I put down the phone without replying. Maybe a shower would refresh me, or even remind me I was Fiona Ross, not Sawyer Feldman’s plaything.
But was being his plaything that bad? He respected me, didn’t he?
As soon as I stepped out of the shower, my phone rang: Erica.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Girl, are you okay?” she asked.
I inhaled deeply, thinking of him. “I’m fine. It’s nothing,” I said, knowing that the last part was a lie. “He’s investigating that company, I guess.”
“And did you find anything?”
“Anything I found, he already knew.”
“Which means,” she paused for dramatic effect, “that he was doing it to get closer to you, Fi. You know that, right?”
My phone dinged. “Hold on,” I said. I checked my phone’s screen. I clicked the notification: an email from an unknown source.
We are contacting you regarding your relationship with Sawyer Feldman. This is an official warning. Do not make any more contact with him, or we will be forced to take action .
My heart raced, perspiration lacing my skin. What the hell was this?
“I’ve gotta go,” I said.
“What? Why?” Erica asked.
“Nothing.” I made up an excuse: “I’ve got a date planned with my sister. I’m running late.”
“Before you go—” Erica scrambled, “—trust me on this. If he’s creeping on you like that, he likes you. And you need to be careful around him.”
My forehead throbbed. Just when I thought I finally had a handle on Sawyer, Erica wanted to have this conversation?
“Why?” I asked, my words clipped.
“He’s rich, right? Powerful men like that are dangerous. I just—” she paused, “—I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I rolled my eyes. This was annoying. First the email. Now, this?
But deep down, I knew there was some truth to what she was saying. He purchased multiple computers like it was nothing. An entire floor of an office building was dedicated to his business. Guards followed him around almost constantly. And he had beaten up that man at the nightclub until he was barely conscious.
The truth was I had no idea what Sawyer was capable of. And that scared me.
“I gotta go,” I said.
“Fi, wait?—”
I hung up and walked over to my bed, plopping down on the mattress. There was some dry spaghetti and a can of sauce in the pantry, but I had lost my appetite.
Do not make any more contact with him.
We will be forced to take action.
This is an official warning.
It must have been someone trying to harass me. People as rich and powerful as Sawyer always had enemies. And ‘action’ obviously meant legal action. But how had the email come from an unknown address? That unnerved me. Who could do that? And why would they? Did it have anything to do with the note on my car? And how did they know I was talking to Sawyer?
It was as if it truly was a warning.
Maybe someone was trying to help me.