Chapter 19 ~ Isabella ~
A s agreed, I stood in front of Carter's office.
On time.
More than that!
I, Isabella Abbott, the perpetual latecomer, the scatterbrain, was even five minutes early! What might be natural for others was a reason for me to be proud, so I smiled contentedly to myself. So I could be punctual. To hell with Emmett Kershaw, who had written me off as a hopeless case.
"Hello," I greeted the unobtrusive assistant who was sitting behind a desk in Carter's anteroom. I was unsure how I should behave. Did I have an appointment with Carter? Did I need to check in?
As I hesitated, the doorknob of Carter's office door turned. Ah, the previous appointment was over. So I wasn't too early, but just right. Radiant with joy, I hurried over to Carter.
Out of the office stepped a medium-sized woman with an unremarkable hair color and pale blue eyes. Was she one of Carter's colleagues? She looked capable, though more in the way you'd expect from someone in an office or a court.
Pale eyes fixed on me.
"You are the one," she hissed with an unpleasant voice. I looked at her bewildered. Who was I supposed to be?
At that moment, a thought struck me. Did she mean with "you are the one" that I was Carter's fiancée? Did the woman know... about the contract between Carter and me? Was she... Carter's confidante?
The idea stabbed me.
I wanted to be his confidante.
Don't be... so... unrealistic, Isabella. You ARE not his confidante. You have a contract. If you were his confidante, there would be no contract. It's about fun and getting what everyone wants. You and Carter. Trust was never mentioned.
Before I could think further about what my thoughts meant and what I should do now, Carter appeared behind the woman in the doorway. He looked annoyed.
"I should have known," hissed the woman now, defiantly jutting her chin up and hurrying past me without looking at me again. As she brushed past me, I noticed a faint musty odor. Did she keep her clothes in an old, poorly ventilated closet?
I looked after her puzzled.
She wasn't a colleague after all.
Or was she?
Actually, I was the employee.
Employee instead of confidante.
Again, there was a stab inside me.
At that moment, Carter grabbed my arm and pulled me into the office. "Well, you're dressed like a businesswoman today. Suits you!" he greeted me and gave me a kiss on the neck.
And another.
And another.
"We... I... she... I have a job interview later," I stammered. Actually, I had wanted to ask Carter who the woman was who had just left his office. Where he knew her from. What their relationship was. If she was his confidante. But Carter's kisses literally took my mind away. They made me forget everything I had thought in the last seconds. Already the woman was only a faint memory. I postponed my questions for later and surrendered entirely to the touch of Carter's lips. And to the burning desire that spread throughout my entire body.
I let out a soft moan.
"Who was that?" I finally whispered.
"Who are you talking about?" asked Carter as he took off my coat.
"The woman who just left..." I could hardly concentrate, my body yearning so much for further touches from Carter.
"Oh, just an old acquaintance. No one special," Carter said casually.
"She seemed to know me..."
Carter looked confused. "Oh, that... She'll also be at the wedding, so I've talked about you." He changed the subject. "You'll wear a dress to the wedding, right?"
"What?" I could hardly concentrate on his question. Carter's athletic body in the custom-made suit and sneakers brought back memories of our first evening together. And the charity dinner.
"The dress you want to wear the day after tomorrow..." My blazer fell to the floor. Carter now set to work on my trousers.
"Purple," I whispered. Then I looked around uneasily. "What if someone comes?"
"No one will come. Francis is keeping an eye on things," Carter reassured me and sealed my lips with a kiss. Francis. That must have been the unobtrusive assistant. Carter's kiss ignited my passion as quickly as it had the previous times we had sex. No matter how often I saw him and how often he touched me, my desire for him never lessened. On the contrary, I wanted Carter every time even more than before.
And Carter wanted me. The best proof that the other woman certainly wasn't important.
Impatiently, I pressed my body against Carter's, feeling his cock demand its due. I began to undo his belt, deciding to give him a gift. When I finally had Carter's cock in my hand, I stroked him. First gently, then more intensely. I massaged him, kneading his balls with my other hand, and enjoyed the feeling as he grew harder and harder under my touch.
Then I went down on my knees in front of Carter.
I leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock with my tongue.
Briefly.
Playfully.
Carter's cock tasted like it wanted more.
So I ran my tongue along the shaft.
"Oh Isabella!" Carter groaned loudly.
Now I took his cock into my mouth and began to caress it with my tongue. Carter placed his hand on my head and gently guided it back and forth.
"Yesss...", he groaned.
His cock grew even harder in my mouth. I could feel Carter's arousal transferring to me and I grew wet. Very wet.
Carter moved his hips slightly. "Yesss....", he groaned again.
Suddenly, he pulled me up. "You should get yours too," he whispered. My panties flew off and I stood before Carter in my blouse. He lifted me up and sat me on his desk.
Oh yes, baby. I was more than ready, because Carter's indulgence had simply made me incredibly hot. I spread my legs, Carter entered me, and took me. Fast. Deep. With thrust after thrust. My body burned with desire. More. I leaned on my hands on the desk and arched my back towards Carter. Carter leaned forward and gently bit my neck.
I groaned.
Now Carter grabbed the back of my head and sealed my mouth with a kiss, just in time to muffle my moan. Because now I could feel the arousal building inside me. When Carter thrust his cock into me again, hitting that most sensitive spot, I came.
Unexpectedly.
Intensely.
And soon after, Carter found his release in me.
"Insane!" I gasped as we finally parted.
Insane, because sex with Carter was always insane.
Insane, because right after I came on a glass designer desk, I looked out of a huge panoramic window onto the New York skyline.
Who could say that?
I giggled happily.
Carter let his hand glide down my arm, and I noticed the expensive Montblanc watch he was wearing. More precisely, I noticed the hands of that watch.
"What, already so late?" I blurted out. Immediately after, I bit my tongue in shock. I definitely didn't want Carter to think I had appointments that were more important than him. This week I was his employee, so basically he could dictate my time. At a salary of $50,000 for a week, I could hardly ask for longer breaks.
And I didn't want to.
On the other hand... $50,000 wouldn't last forever. The amount wouldn't even be enough to pay off the entire remaining mortgage on the apartment. So I needed a job. Preferably starting next week. Three days ago, I uploaded my resume to various job portals and now, a hotel chain actually contacted me and wanted to meet me.
I had thirty minutes until the appointment.
That would be tight.
Damn tight.
If I wanted any chance of being on time, I had to leave immediately. But I didn't want to rush out of the office. Carter shouldn't think I was just... ditching him like that.
"Don't be mad, but I have to get back to work," Carter's words freed me from my dilemma. He looked at me with a regretful look and fished his shirt and pants out of the pile of clothes on the floor. I enjoyed watching as Carter's athletic body disappeared back into the tailored suit.
If he had wanted me again...
...yes, what would I have done then?
That question is not up for debate, Isabella. Carter has to work and you have to take care of your future. As much as you'd like this week to last forever, it won't. Time doesn't stand still and life goes on.
"Isabella?" Carter's question brought me back to my thoughts.
"Sorry," I mumbled, slid off the desk, and started putting my clothes back on.
"How do I look?" I asked a minute later, running both hands through my hair.
"Perfect," Carter grinned and gave me a thumbs up. "But now I really have to get back to work. I'll see you the day after tomorrow. I'll pick you up." He gave me a light slap on the ass and sat down at the desk.
The desk where we had just...
I pushed the thought aside. Along with the slight disappointment that Carter wanted to see me again only the day after tomorrow.
Thirty-five minutes later, I rushed breathlessly into the anonymous-looking reception area of the personnel manager of the hotel chain that had contacted me.
"Hello, my name is Isabella Abbott. I have an appointment with Mr. Baldwin."
"Ms. Abbott." The secretary behind the desk was around fifty and looked at me sternly. "We were expecting you five minutes ago."
"I'm sorry, the traffic..." I helplessly shrugged my shoulders.
"Traffic is bad every day in Manhattan." The secretary sounded accusatory. "You need to plan accordingly."
What was this? Was this some kind of aptitude test? Would I only be shown to her boss if I came up with a suitable excuse?
"I'll do that next time. Then I'll know the quickest way here," I said with my most charming voice and put on my most charming smile. Anyone who knew me, however, would have noticed that it didn't reach my eyes.
Whatever.
This was just about a job, and if I got it, hopefully, I wouldn't have to deal with the personnel manager's secretary too often.
"Go through." With pursed lips, the lady pointed to her boss's office door.
"Thank you." I was still smiling. A little extra charm couldn't hurt. Then I knocked on the office door.
"Come in." Mr. Baldwin's voice in the office sounded stern but not unfriendly. Carefully, I opened the door and slipped inside. Behind a cheap desk made of painted plywood stood a thin man with steel-gray hair and steel-gray eyes. Everything about him seemed cold. I felt like I was meeting a ghost.
"Ah, the tardy Ms. Abbott." Not a promising start.
"Sir, I really am sorry, but today..."
Mr. Baldwin waved it off. "Save your excuses. They're always the same, no matter who delivers them. Traffic, the child, only today, not tomorrow... I can't stand to hear it anymore."
"I understand," I agreed with Mr. Baldwin.
He looked at me sharply. "Oh, you can understand that."
I shrugged. "Why not?"
Another sharp look. "Suitable candidates don't arrive late." A simple statement. I swallowed. Mr. Baldwin clearly wasn't going to make it easy for me. On one hand, I couldn't blame him, because I was late, and that wasn't a good sign. On the other hand... they were generally interested in my cooperation in the company, right? Otherwise, they wouldn't have invited me to the interview?
I swallowed again. "During the probationary period, I will prove to you that I can be punctual, Sir."
Mr. Baldwin's gaze didn't lose any of its sharpness. "You speak as if you already have the job."
"I... uh, I mean of course... if you were to give me a chance... in that case..." Now the guy had actually made me so nervous that I started stuttering. My cheeks turned red. I cleared my throat. "I just meant that there's a probationary period so you can see if I'm always late or just this once."
"The other candidates for the position arrived on time for the interview."
I stared at Mr. Baldwin. "Excuse me?"
"The other candidates for the position arrived on time for the interview," Mr. Baldwin repeated.
I had understood him the first time, but I had no idea what to say in response.
At that moment, a loud, but audible whinny came from my bag.
Damn it!
It was my phone.
Someone had sent me a message.
Recently, Hayley and I had tried out various ringtones for fun. The whinny had made us giggle particularly. Imagine you're somewhere and suddenly there's a whinny. People will think there's a horse on Times Square. Hayley couldn't stop laughing at the thought.
"What's that?" Mr. Baldwin's gaze now pinned me to the spot. I hadn't believed he could look at me any sharper. Now I was proven wrong.
"That... uh... was my phone," I stammered now. "I'm sorry. I was in such a hurry that I forgot to turn it off. I certainly didn't want to keep you waiting any longer."
"So it's true what Emmett Kershaw says about you." Mr. Baldwin's dry statement made me jump in surprise.
"Yes, young lady," he said now patronizingly. "You didn't include a recommendation letter with your application, but according to your resume, you worked at the reception of a hotel on Crosby Street for a few months. That immediately caught my attention. So I called my old acquaintance Emmett Kershaw and asked how satisfied he was with you."
Silently, I looked at Mr. Baldwin.
"Don't you even want to know what he said?"
Silently, I shook my head. I already knew the answer.
Not at all.
"Mr. Kershaw was very forthcoming."
Mr. Baldwin seemed to be just as much of a talker as Emmett Kershaw. I could be glad I didn't get this job. It would be just as hellish as with my previous boss.
But what was I supposed to do? I needed some kind of job!
I broke my gaze from Mr. Baldwin and looked up at the ceiling. It felt like I was watching a soap bubble burst there. A big, colorful, shimmering soap bubble with my dream of working in a hotel with people from all over the world and making sure they had as comfortable and pleasant a time as possible far from home.
"Mr. Kershaw strongly advises against hiring you. You might want to look elsewhere, young lady. I believe McDonald's in the kitchen is still looking for staff."
That was it.
"Thank you. But I already have a job. There are people who don't care about Mr. Kershaw's opinion. I just wanted to see if your company offers better conditions than my current employer." My words were disjointed. But I absolutely did not want to give Mr. Baldwin the satisfaction of seeing me down. I would not be humiliated.
"But $50,000 a week is unfortunately not within your reach."
Mr. Baldwin chuckled mockingly. "Now you're lying too. Get out of here. Don't waste any more of my time."
I didn't need to be told twice. With my head held high, I left Mr. Baldwin's office and coolly nodded at the secretary as I passed.
But as I waited for the elevator, deep despair overcame me. If Emmett dragged my reputation through the mud like this, I would never find a job.
No matter what kind.
And then I would be broke.
Not immediately, thanks to the $50,000 Carter would transfer to me after the wedding.
But then a few months later.