9. Natasha
9
NATASHA
“ H ey, you got a minute?”
I glanced up from my work, twisting around in my swivel chair. Trent leaned against my office door, arms casually crossed, his dark hair swept back with product. Damn, the man was insufferably hot. He arched his brow slightly, and I almost expected a team of photographers to appear, shooting him for next month’s cover of GQ . His fitted suit hugged everything just right, and I had to force myself to look away. I could only admire him for so long before it would get weird.
Whoever his tailor was, they needed a massive raise. That’s all I’m saying.
“I have a few minutes,” I said, putting my pencil down. “Then I have to get this idea out to Bonnie and Shay.”
“I’ll make it quick then. Wouldn’t want to cross the CAD designers. I’m well aware that they’re a clique I want to be on good terms with.”
I smirked.
He inclined his head. “Join me for a little walk?”
I climbed to my feet, following Trent into the hall. “Where are we going?”
His lips curled into a smile. “I wanted to show you the demo for the showroom that’s going to be set up in our international locations.” He stopped in front of the elevator, hitting the call button.
“The demo…Already?”
The elevator door rolled open, and we climbed in, riding it down. Trent stood next to me, so close—almost too close. I could see the trace of stubble on his jaw and smell the spearmint of his soap. My heart stuttered in my chest. Why was he so close?
“The staff have been working really hard on it,” Trent said, looking away to watch the numbers on the display board count down. “I think you’ll be impressed.”
I frowned up at him. That didn’t make any sense. How were they working hard on the showroom demo when the designs for the new line weren’t even approved? As far as I was aware, none of the pieces had gone to production yet. I traced the chiseled line of his jaw with my gaze, curling my hands by my sides. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and run my hand along that dark stubble, and not just to make him turn his head back in my direction so I could ask him what the hell he was talking about.
The elevator doors opened, and Trent walked out—no, sauntered out—crossing a floor I didn’t recognize. Where had this been on the tour?
“Where are we?”
“Just this way,” he said, leading me through a door. It opened to the most luxurious lounge demo I’d ever seen. In the middle of the floor was a raised pedestal bathed in soft yellow light, and right there, front and center, was the chaise sofa I’d just been drawing in my office. I turned and gaped at Trent. How was this possible?
I hadn’t even scanned the drawing into the computer or sent the file to the CAD designers.
“What do you think?” Trent asked, giving me a sexy smirk, like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
I climbed up on the pedestal where the chaise slowly rotated. I ran my hand over the gleaming dark wood—polished to perfection—and the soft, velvet cushion. I didn’t usually focus much on fabrics, seeing as custom pieces like this would require the buyer to choose what they wanted, but the deep red was alluring. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
I turned, eyeing him under the soft light. He’d stepped up on the pedestal, the room narrowing to the two of us slowly turning there. He shrugged out of his suit jacket, throwing it down on the chaise. When I opened my mouth to ask him how he’d gotten the chaise made so quickly, he reached for his tie, and my stomach flipped as he popped open the top button of his dress shirt.
“What are you…” I glanced around. Anyone could walk in at any time. My god, were we on a security camera? “What the hell are you doing?”
He smirked, popping another button and another. I just stared, watching perfectly delectable, well-muscled skin appear. A line of dark hair disappeared beneath his slacks. I wanted to chase it like an arrow.
“I’m going to fuck you on this chaise,” he said, the words low and gravelly. Goose bumps exploded across every inch of my body. “We’ll call it quality control testing.”
I licked my lips. Holy fucking shit. He couldn’t be serious. I couldn't seriously be considering saying yes. What I needed to do was walk away. Right now! But I…I needed…he had very nice abs.
Trent shrugged out of his shirt, his broad chest and muscled shoulders on exquisite display, spotlit by the carefully planned lighting arrangement. Squash sure kept this man in shape. Maybe I needed to start playing squash. Maybe I needed to start watching Trent play squash. Naked. Naked squash.
What on earth was I thinking about?
Trent waltzed toward me, unhurried, with the quiet stealth of a big cat. He was delectable and dark and dangerous. Like a panther.
Yep.
He was a sleek, muscular panther filled with explosive power, and I sure hoped he used it to pounce on me.
God, girl! Get a grip. I backed away from him, inch by inch, until my knees hit the chaise, and I collapsed on top of it.
“I’ve wanted you since the moment we met,” Trent said as he leaned over me, getting his knee between my legs.
My words left me, replaced by a breathy little moan.
He smiled, a wicked finger running along my jaw, down my neck, and disappearing between the valley of my breasts. When the hell had I taken my shirt off?
“I’ve wanted you exactly like this. Splayed out for me on a piece of Saunders Furniture.”
My chest heaved. This couldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t let this happen, but hell if I wanted it to stop. Trent leaned down, his lips like the promise of fire after the cold, and I surged up, wrapping my arms around his neck. I kissed him like he was my one and only lifeline, moaning as he sucked at my tongue.
His hands traveled down my body, his hips grinding against me.
A sudden desperation washed through me, aching between my legs, and I almost bucked him off the chaise as his hand slipped beneath the waistline of my pants. Yes, yes ! God, I wanted him to touch me there.
I wanted him to?—
I startled from the dream so abruptly that my chest clenched, the ache between my legs throbbing out of control. I squeezed my thighs together.
Holy fuck!
It was a dream. Only a goddamn dream. I rubbed my hands over my face, trying to get control of myself. I was not supposed to be fantasizing about Trent, no matter how sexy he was—and man did dream-Trent really know how to get a girl going. But this coffee-spilling, parents-hating man was my boss. Not someone I was supposed to be almost-kissing in abandoned churches, and certainly not someone I was supposed to be crossing boundaries with.
I couldn’t be drooling over someone who treated his parents like garbage.
Get some damn standards, girl .
I had to admit the chaise had looked really good.
When I hadn’t been able to shake Trent from my thoughts, I’d sat down at my desk at work, headphones in, and let myself get lost in the design—my favorite place to be. If I was going to be plagued by that dream, I might as well get something useful out of it.
And I was clearly not getting off , so I saw no reason to let my subconscious designs go to waste. The line could use a good chaise design. But losing myself in design wasn’t working the way it usually did. I bit my lip, tightening my hold on my drawing pencil as I shaded in dark hair. At some point, I’d veered away from simply drawing the chaise and had added an entwined couple, all bare skin and hands everywhere. It was possibly the filthiest thing I’d ever drawn.
I sort of wanted to frame it.
But that would be ridiculous. I picked up my eraser, hesitating as I took in the sketch. I supposed this couple could be any couple. The fact that the woman had my curls and the man had Trent’s dark hair and athletic build didn’t mean anything.
I nodded, trying to convince myself that this artistic rendering was in no way related to the dream. I held the picture up, letting the light spilling in through the window highlight shaded muscles and one very attractive backside. I hadn’t actually seen dream-Trent’s ass, but I’d seen him around the office enough in those fitted slacks that I could picture it clearly. Very clearly. Maybe a little too clearly. Because even in just a pencil sketch, without defined facial features, it was pretty obvious who the subjects were. I could only hope now that I’d gotten the image down on paper, I could finally get it out of my head and return my focus to the real star of the show.
The chaise .
But before I could crumple the paper and discard it, Trent walked through my open door.
“Have we finalized these desk sets yet?” he said, looking up from a file in his hand. “Because I think they’re ready for production. What’s the holdup?”
I slammed the sketch down on my desk. “Um…which desks?” I said, my voice pitched way too high.
“What do you mean ‘which desks’?” he said, scowling at me. “The ones you designed, obviously.”
“Right, yeah.”
He frowned. “What’s that you’ve got there?”
“Nothing!” I shifted my chair to block Trent’s view of the sketch, but I must have moved too quickly, creating a draft, because the paper fluttered out from behind me and landed on the floor.
Trent reached down and snatched it up before I could.
“No—” Too late. My blood ran cold.
“Well, well…” His expression turned smug. “What do we have here?”
“Give it to me,” I demanded, thrusting my hand out. “It’s not finished.”
“I’d say it looks like something’s about to finish,” he teased.
I rose, half out of my chair, trying to grab it. Trent was taller, holding the sketch out of reach. “Just a second,” he said. “I haven’t finished admiring the proportions of this very lovely chaise.”
“Trent,” I said, annoyed. “I’m serious. Give it here.”
He lifted the paper higher, obscuring his face. “I can tell just how serious you are.”
“It’s just a little warm-up drawing,” I muttered, slumping down in my seat. Mortification surged through me.
“I’d say it looks pretty warm already.” He lowered the paper enough to waggle his eyebrows over the top of it. “Anyone I know?”
I clenched my teeth. “No.”
“Just saying…this guy looks great.” He shot me a smug grin. He knew damn well it was him. “The girl too,” he added, making me flush and squirm in my seat. Did he really think— No, bad thoughts , I scolded myself. You absolutely do not care if your boss thinks you look hot naked .
“Can I have it back now?”
He dangled the sketch out in front of me. “You want that badly to keep staring at it?” he teased. “Can’t say I blame you. It’s pretty hot.”
A blush washed across both my cheeks. This was literally the equivalent of him reading my diary. Now we both knew I was thinking about him a lot more than I should be.
I snatched the sketch back. “Can you go annoy someone else? I have work to get done.”
“I believe I was asking a valid, work-related question,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. “But you clearly have more important work tasks to be getting on with. Or should I say getting off?—”
“Don’t even!”
He mimed zipping his lips shut, shaking with laughter as he backed out my door. “Can’t wait for you to present this piece at the next team meeting.”
“Out!” I ordered. He disappeared, but I could hear him laughing all the way across the conference room. Probably all the way back to the elevator. I picked up my water bottle, taking a couple of big swigs. My whole face was on fire. The red could probably be seen from space.
“Hey, Nat, how’s it going?” I turned to find Sheila poking her head through my door. She’d taken to calling me Nat recently. I didn’t love it, but I was rolling with it. “Didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
“Oh, you didn’t,” I assured her. “Just chatting with the boss.”
“It sure is nice to hear Trent laugh like that.” She shook her head fondly. “He used to walk around here glowering. Now I catch him smiling to himself in the hallway.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said.
She came in and sat down. “It’s obvious how good you are for him. I still can’t believe he won’t play ball on that PR campaign. Marketing could do so much with the two of you. The public would eat you up.” She leaned toward me, like we were sharing a secret. “In the best way possible, of course.”
“Yeah, I got that.” I forced a smile, not wanting to seem like I wasn’t a good sport. In truth, I was grateful for the way he’d defended me in the meeting, because he was absolutely right: even if we had been dating for real, that kind of campaign would still have made me uncomfortable as hell.
“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it’s been a rough few years for Saunders. And obviously, Trent’s had to bear the brunt of that—stepping into the role of CEO, managing the transition with his parents. I can’t even tell you how many fires he had to put out when he first took on the job. Managing public affairs took up half his time in the beginning.”
“Right…”
“I guess it’s just nice to know he has someone in his corner. I’ve always thought he takes on too much himself. It’s a lot for one person, and I know it’s hard on him.”
Her words caught me off guard. I’d never considered Trent to be the kind of person to struggle like that. “Can I ask what happened? With his parents?”
Sheila reclined in the chair, crossing her legs. “He hasn’t told you?”
“Only in passing,” I lied. I didn’t want it to seem like Trent didn’t confide in his girlfriend. “I mean, I’ve read the press releases, obviously.” And I had, the moment I’d left Dee’s place after Trent offered me the job. I’d immediately Googled the company, reading up on everything I could. “I know the official narrative, but it’s clear there was a lot more going on.”
Sheila glanced at the door, like she was worried someone might overhear her gossiping. Satisfied that no one was hanging around, she sighed, shaking her head before diving in. “I guess it really boils down to the divorce. When Conrad and Lara announced that they were done, I can’t say anyone was surprised. Anyone in this building with a pulse knew they were having problems in their marriage—and it had started to spill over into their work in a very toxic way.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah. There were fights at the board meetings, contradicting email chains, entire furniture lines that had to be shelved because someone wasn’t on board with…whatever.” She waved her hand. “In a way, a lot of us were relieved to see the relationship end. They were so focused on tearing each other down they didn’t care if they tore the company down too.” She winced, like she thought she’d said too much. “I mean, it was an emotional time for them. They weren’t thinking clearly. And it all just kept escalating until it got past the point where it was even an option to try to walk it back. It was very messy by the end.”
“Sounds like it was a tough situation for everyone.”
She nodded. “We weren’t sure who was in charge of what anymore, or who we should be taking orders from, or escalating problems to. They’d run the company together for years, but they reached a point where they couldn’t get on the same page. All of us felt stuck in the middle, unable to do our jobs.” Sheila shrugged. “In the end, the only thing the board could do was bring Trent in. He hated the idea at first. His parents hadn’t always been the most present while he was growing up, and he wasn’t at all impressed with their behavior. He wasn’t part of the business back then—he was off doing his own thing. But he stepped up when Dee asked him to.”
I forced a smile. It sounded like an awkward situation all around. If Trent had never been close to his parents, had been unhappy with the way they’d handled the divorce, and had resented being dragged into the family business when he’d wanted to do other things, that gave some context to why his interactions with them were so harsh. I could sort of see where he was coming from.
But that didn’t mean I agreed with his choices.
There was nothing I wouldn’t give for more time with my parents. And even if he didn’t have the same kind of relationship with his that I’d had with mine, I had to think he’d regret it if he kept freezing them out. You can’t take family for granted. Especially not when it seemed like he was judging his parents by unfair standards, blaming them for bad behavior during what had clearly been an incredibly difficult time for them. He could maybe afford to give them a little more grace.
“Anyway,” Sheila continued, “I do think Trent foresaw completely different things for his life. So, the fact that he’s here, running the company, couldn’t have been easy for him. And now with Dee’s diagnosis…I’m just glad he has you.” She winked at me. “I’ll let you get back to work. Talk later?”
“Sure,” I said, twisting back around as she disappeared, facing that scandalous sketch of me and dream-Trent. My phone beeped, and I looked down to find a notification from 1stDibs. I usually ignored these messages until I was back home, but I needed something to clear my head.
I opened it, grateful for the distraction as I scanned the message.
Good day, I’m looking for something one-of-a-kind. Would you be able to design me some pieces that reflect…
My heart sank.
I stopped reading. This was a new client, but it sounded an awful lot like the jerk customer that liked to commission a piece, make me waste hours of work, and then ghost me. Even the wording was familiar. One-of-a-kind my ass! I deleted the message without responding and closed the application, irritated. I didn’t need to waste my time drafting things for someone who was never going to end up buying my work.
I huffed, finally crumpling the sketch of the chaise and throwing it away. The last thing I needed was anyone else seeing it. Sheila might have thought I was good for Trent, but that was because she thought we had a relationship that didn’t exist. I was here for the paycheck, nothing more. And I needed to remember that.