Chapter 13
13
KOLBI
1 new message: Dungeons and Dickheads
Hank:
Kolb, you comin’ to lunch?
Conrad:
Haven’t we all agreed to *not* put these messages in this thread? You two work together, get off your ass and walk into his office and ask him.
Hank:
I would but I’m already outside standing with Malcolm waiting on him to come down.
You comin’ or what man?
Malcolm:
Geez Conrad, you need to relax. Being so uptight isn’t good for your sperm count, the stress kills off your swimmers.
Conrad:
Malcolm, is every thought you have tied to your sex drive?
Malcolm:
I am a young virile man, so yeah it is
Hank:
KOLBI? Please chime in before they whip it out and compare sizes.
Conrad:
Please *never* use the word ‘virile’ again. I almost threw up.
Kolbi:
Sorry, just catching up. No, I won’t be coming, you guys go without me. I have some emails I need to get back to so I’m going to eat at my desk.
Malcolm:
Dammit Kolbi, the one afternoon I have off and come over for lunch, you don’t come.
Hank:
Do you need me to stay back man?
Kolbi:
Nah, you guys go. We’ll catch up later. I’m good, sorry I have to bail.
T he messages my friends were sending continued to make my phone buzz so I put it on Do Not Disturb so I could get back to work. For a Thursday, it was weirdly busy and I was off my game. I’d woken up late after a night of graphic dreams involving a shower and a girl a foot and a half shorter than I am. I’d hardly made it into the office before Kendall made me aware of several VIP emails she’d sent me and reminded me of the three in-person consultations I had after lunch in various parts of the city.
Over the years, my job had morphed into a management role and really only consisted of me handling emails, phone calls from our top clients, and meeting people around the city who were interested in working with us. Doing so kept me extremely busy which is why I rarely ever went to client functions anymore and let my people handle it. Next weekend would be different though as it was the annual Christmas party at the Sinclair manor, and since Magnolia had requested I be there, I was expected to go.
I pushed out a breath and scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to come up with as many ways as I could to avoid her that evening when I heard someone clear their throat. The office was empty due to it being the lunch hour, so no one should be in here. I lowered my hands from my eyes slowly and discovered a pair of white satin heels with bows tied around them staring back at me. My eyes moved up her body, taking in the space between her feet and the bottom of the burgundy skirt she was wearing. My hands twitched on the top of my desk and wanted to know what it felt like to wrap themselves around her thighs and push them apart. My eyes lingered on them a little longer than they should have. The cream cashmere turtleneck hugged her tiny waist like a gift I wanted to unwrap and with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, she looked sophisticated yet sexy as hell all at the same time. I tried to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat.
“Hello, Jack,” she purred, pulling her crimson painted lips back and giving me an endearing smile from just inside the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” I choked out as I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the growing bulge under my desk.
“Pretty rude to not say hello first, don’t you think?” The sharp playfulness in her voice warmed my core more than it should’ve. Quickly trying to save face, I cleared my throat and buttoned my jacket once in front of me, and crossed my hands over my lap. I would’ve stood to shake her hand but there was no way I could do that in my current state.
“Hello, Miss Sinclair, how can I help you today?” I tried to keep my voice even.
“‘ Miss Sinclair ’?” Her eyebrows raised and her voice came out flat. “I much prefer the other name you call me, Jack .” The way she hums my nickname sends a shiver down my spine and I felt the collar of my dress shirt getting uncomfortably tight around my neck. There are several names I’d love to call her but none of them were safe for work.
“I think ‘Miss Sinclair’ is appropriate for the setting,” I managed.
She studied me through thin eyes and pursed her lips before taking a few steps across my office. The sound of her heels against the marble floor was almost deafening. You could cut the tension between us with a knife as she made her way around the desk to come and stand on my side of it. I turned in my chair to face her, staying seated with my hands crossed over my lap, and looked up at her once she’s standing in front of me. With my being seated and her heels giving her an extra four inches, she had to look down at me for once. When her hair swung behind her, I caught the scent of jasmine and lavender, which I assumed was her perfume and I wanted to bottle up the scent and keep it forever. She stood in front of me for a beat, looking down at me where I sat, before speaking again.
“Well, Mr. Vesey , I’m here to deliver your invitation for my family’s Christmas party. As you will remember, it’s next Saturday, the twentieth.” Her dark painted lips pulled back in one corner as she pulled out an envelope from the purse she was carrying and handed it to me. It was closed with a wax seal that had a large ‘S’ pressed into it. “My mother was going to mail it but I told her I would hand deliver it instead.” I reached for the envelope and met her eyes. The fire in them was undeniable.
“And why would you do that?” I questioned. I never liked it when clients showed up to my office without notifying me first, but I wasn’t upset at the image of her standing in front of me now. As much as they wanted to, I refused to let my eyes fall to the hemline of her skirt.
“Because I wanted an excuse to come see you. You haven’t been answering my texts. I was starting to feel like a crazy stalker or something.” She wasn’t wrong, I had been ignoring her texts. She had sent a few since inviting me to the party, but I hadn’t replied because if she were any other client, I wouldn’t. Instead, I just read her messages a hundred times a day and did everything I could to avoid answering them.
“You’re not being a crazy stalker. I just don’t text my clients on my personal number, that’s all.”
“Who says I’m not just texting you as a client? Or even just as a friend? Can’t we be friends, Jack?”
“Flower, none of my clients have ever walked into my office over lunch to hand deliver an invite to a private party they’re throwing, wearing a pair of shoes that are borderline sinful, because they were ‘ just a client .’ Or just a friend,” I added at the end. My voice came out low and firm as I tried to settle my heart rate. Between the skirt, the way her sweater hugged her body, and her shoes, the little traitor was starting to beat faster than I wanted it to.
“So you like my shoes?” she quipped. Her shy facade was just a mask to try and cover up how much fun she was having toying with me like this. She turned one of her feet so her ankle popped and showed off her calves that had been well defined by years of wearing heels. Unable to resist the sight of them, my eyes fell to her feet and an image of me behind her with her wearing nothing but her shoes flashed in front of my eyes. I cleared my throat and looked up at her again.
“Thank you for the invite, Miss Sinclair.” I tried to speak as matter-of-factly as I could. “I’ll be sure to RSVP in a timely manner.” I straightened my suit jacket and spun so my chair was facing the door indicating that she was free to go.
“Don’t you think you should show me out? It’s the polite thing to do,” she teased as she walked towards the door.
“You found your way in, I think you can find your way out too.” My words were short but I had no choice. The raging hard-on I was hiding was now at full attention and if I stood up, there would be no way to hide it. She studied me from the doorway and turned to leave. I closed my eyes and brushed a hand down the front of my jacket in an effort to catch my breath when I heard her heels on the floor nearing me again. She leaned over the glass desk with both hands and gave me a coy smile. Her face was mere inches from mine and if I wanted to, I could have closed the gap between us with very little effort.
“I know you’re going to pretend not to care, but just so you know, I’m wearing green next weekend,” she nearly whispered. She gave me a wink and spun on her heels again before exiting my office for good.
With her finally gone, I took a few deep breaths and rubbed my hands down my knees. I squeezed my eyes closed and tried to think of anything, anything , that would kill the erection in my pants. Damn, I really need to get laid if just seeing her standing in my office gets me like this . Pushing up from my chair, I walked to the fridge I keep in my office and grabbed a bottle of water, downing it in just a few gulps. My feet carried me around my office a few times, pacing the open space.
I’d been counting my blessings that her family hadn’t called me to their home for any additional meetings the last few weeks. Ever since she stayed at my house, keeping her out of my mind had been nearly impossible and answering her text last week had clearly been a mistake. Now she thought she could text me whenever she wanted, or worse, be my friend , which was making my attempt at keeping her as just a client significantly more difficult.
You fucking moron, she does not think of you like a friend. A friend would not show up like she did today or look at you the way she was just looking at you.
I pushed the thought of her being anything other than a friend, anything other than a client , out of my mind. Going forward, I would just have to ignore her completely and wait for these feelings to go away on their own. I walked back to my desk and wrote ‘Ask Kendall to remind Miss Sinclair of proper communication channels’ on a pad of paper.
Needing to take a break from work, I reached for my phone and unlocked it. While there were over twenty texts in our group chat, there was another message on the screen my eyes locked on first. A number I hadn’t programmed into my phone but I’d memorized already during my nightly reading sessions.
1 New Message: Unknown
I hope you don’t get that excited for all your clients who come to visit you or else I’m going to have to try a lot harder.
My jaw fell open as I came to realize that my attempt to hide myself had failed.
Don’t forget Jack, the color of the evening is green.
Staring at her message, more of the same thoughts I’d been trying to ignore flooded my mind. Ones of how breathtaking she looked as she slept in the guest room. How her smile caused me to feel one of my own growing with very little effort. The way my neck grew hot every time she called me ‘Jack.’ She’s my age, it wouldn’t be weird if we were friends, would it? It’s okay to be friends with her, she’s more of a peer than a client anyway, right?
I typed a message back, changed the settings of a few things in my phone, and set it down again as I tossed the note about speaking with Kendall in the garbage.
Flower:
Don’t forget Jack, the color of the evening is green.
Green just happens to be my favorite color.