Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Cassius
I stare out the window of Harmon’s office, looking out at the city. I’ll never get used to this view. I could stare out these windows every day and it would not get old. It’s beautiful. Every aspect of it. The architecture. The river. The people. It’s amazing.
“Sorry about that,” Harmon says.
I glance at him over my shoulder and smirk.
He closes the door and walks to me. I turn, grinning at him. He boxes me in against the window, grinding his body against mine. I groan as he leans in to kiss me like he hasn’t seen me in years.
“What’s gotten into you?” I ask when he finally gives me a second to breathe and brings his mouth to my neck.
“Rough day,” he grunts.
“Maybe I can fix that for you later?”
“I know you can.”
He steps back, but I grab his arm. “Thank you for taking Chrissy to school and Cammy to work this morning.”
“You’re welcome, Cassius.”
“It means a lot to me not only that you offered, but that we… trust you.”
His smile is soft.
“It means the world to me that you trust me. It’s what I want.”
He brings my hand to his mouth to kiss it, then leans in to kiss my lips again.
I laugh, shoving him off.
“Let’s get this over with so I can put your dick in my mouth,” I say.
“You could do that while I talk, you know.”
“Then how will I argue for better pay?” I say as I walk around the desk.
“There’s no arguing here. You get what you want, baby.”
My stomach heats at the nickname. There’s something about it that is so hot coming out of his mouth. This powerful man calling me baby.
“That doesn’t sound fair,” I say as I sit in the chair across from his desk.
“How so? If employees want more money, then they should ask for it. They don’t.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Seriously. It’s not my fault they don’t know how to negotiate.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I say.
Harmon places a folder on the table that he’s pulled out from a drawer. He flips it open and slides me a small packet.
“I’ve already written up your contract. If there is anything in here that you don’t agree with, I will adjust it and print a new one right now.”
He’s always so eager. So very right this second. Like he’s afraid I’m going to change my mind…
I pick up the packet and look over the details.
“Office Coordinator? What does that even mean?” I ask, looking up at him.
He looks proud of himself right now, and it’s kind of adorable.
“You would be in charge of schedules, particularly with the meeting rooms. Ordering supplies and filling requests. You’d handle stocking the cafeteria, and whatever supplies Chef needs.
There would be a lot of interdepartmental communication regarding meetings, but mostly you’d be on your own to do as you please. There’s more, but that’s the basics.”
“That… sounds like Oliver’s job?”
“Oliver is my personal assistant. It’s true he handles a lot of this, but it’s best it’s taken from him. Then he can take more work from me, like writing emails and all the other stuff I don’t like doing.” He grins, leaning back in his chair.
I huff a laugh, shaking my head. I continue to read and go through the duties he mentioned along with a few more that he didn’t mention but are equally as simple.
The hours are listed from 9:00 am to 2:00 pm Monday through Friday, which I know he did so I could get Chrissy to and from school.
I turn the page and almost fall off my chair.
“A hundred thousand a year?” I gasp. “That… sounds like a lot.”
“It is,” he says plainly. “At least for this position. However, it’s significantly less than what I am giving you now.
Though, I have no issue making up for it, if you want.
I have plenty of ideas. But this will put you on the books.
You’ll have taxes taken out. Plus, you get paid vacation, personal time, and sick leave.
And you’re on salary, so if your job is done for the day you can leave early. ”
“This doesn’t feel right.” I put the papers down but can’t pull my gaze from that number. $100,000.00 annually. “Harmon, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I can’t. The last job I had was at the crappiest burger place in town, and mostly I cleaned the bathrooms because no one else would and they were all fucking the boss, so I didn’t have much of a choice.
How am I going to organize things and talk to people who…
who, in any other situation, would step over me on the street? ”
He sighs, folding his hands together. “First of all, you need to not worry about what anyone else in this office thinks of you except for me. Secondly, you are highly qualified for this position, which is why I gave it to you in the first place. All you do is organize, Cassius. You handle you and your sister’s entire schedules.
You have busy days and always get everything done.
” He leans closer to me, lowering his voice and adds, “You’ve never been late when it came to being my slave. .”
“Yeah, but that’s different.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Harmon…”
“Cassius, stop being afraid of the unknown.” He taps the papers on the desk. “This is exactly what you need. It’s what you’ve wanted this whole time. Don’t pretend being my slave was top of your list. This is a real job.”
“I don’t regret what I did,” I say quickly.
“I know that.” He gives me a soft smile. “But I know what you need. Let me give it to you.”
“I—”
His cell rings, and he picks it up from the desk.
“Sorry, I need to take this. Hello?” I listen to the one-sided conversation, unable to make out what the other person is saying.
“Did you think about my offer? And you’ve made a decision?
Good. I’m glad to hear it. I can have papers drawn up this afternoon.
I can bring them to you, or you can come here.
Whatever is easier for you. Yeah, I could do that too.
No, I will handle all of that. I am sure.
Yep, okay. No, I haven’t said a thing. That’s up to you.
Of course. Nice talking with you. Bye.” He ends the call and puts his phone down. “What were you saying?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Isn’t there a rule about not dating employees?”
“No.”
“No? That’s it? Just no?”
He shrugs. “My lawyer is married to the secretary to one of the fashion execs who is dating, and has been for at least two years now, one of the tech guys. As long as I’m not your direct supervisor, which I am not, then there is no problem.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t know?”
“Yes.” He smirks.
I groan and hold out my hand. He grins as he gives me a pen. I sign the contract. There’s nothing here I can argue. He’s right about it all.
“I’ll make sure these are processed today, along with the money owed to you from breaking our contract early.”
“Oh no, you—”
“It will all go into the account that is set up for you. You can keep the cell that you have as a personal one or turn it into your work phone and get a separate one for personal use. Either way is fine with me, but you won’t want to use only one phone, I assure you.
These people don’t know when to stop calling.
And I suggest leaving your work phone in your desk while you’re not on the clock. ”
“I’ll figure it out,” I say, still feeling icky about this. It all feels too easy.
Yes, I’ve struggled for a long time, and I always wondered when I would get a break. But now I can’t stop wondering what I did to deserve all this, while there are still so many people struggling out there. The guilt is starting to weigh on me.
“There are some forms you’ll have to fill out. Tax stuff and other things we need on file, but that can be handled on your start date.”
“Which is?”
“Monday.”
I stare at Harmon. He stares right back.
I can’t figure out if I want to punch him or fuck him.
Kind of both. But punching him would be unfair.
I’m frustrated, but it’s not with him. It’s just my situation.
I’m grateful for him, and everything he’s done for me.
Even if, in the beginning, he had no idea how much it would matter to me.
He does now, and has for a while, and he’s only doing more.
For me, and my family. This man is… amazing.
His gaze is soft as he holds mine. Emotion wells in my chest, making my entire body warm. The way he looks at me, it’s so much. He’s always looked at me like a person. Like I matter. There hasn’t been a single moment when I’ve questioned his attention. It’s always on me. Always.
“Harmon, I think I—”
A rapid knock on the door stops me from talking. I snap my mouth shut, grateful for the interruption. I can’t believe I was about to tell him that.
I can’t even be sure it’s true. I appreciate him. I like being with him. I’m grateful for all he’s done. But is that why I’m feeling this way? Is it because of what he’s doing for me? That’s not a reason to love someone, is it?
How do you know when you love someone? I’ve never seen a healthy relationship, so I don’t know what that looks like.
I know I love my sisters, but that’s always been there.
It’s not something that happened—it always was.
Do I care about Harmon the way I care about my sisters?
Sort of, but it’s different. I’m not as protective, because Harmon can take care of himself.
But if he got hurt, I’d be upset. If I didn’t talk to him, I’d be concerned.
If he never spoke to me again, I’d be hurt and not just stressed over the money but over him. I’d miss him.
So yeah, I definitely have feelings for him. But is it love?
“Sorry about that,” Harmon says, taking his seat. “Again. What were you saying?”
I didn’t even see who came to the door or heard what they said. I was so caught up in my thoughts. And as I stare at him now, my entire body gets hot. My head feels heavy, and it looks like I’m seeing through glass.
I jump up from my seat, causing him to grow concerned.
“Sorry, I, uh… I have to go.”
“Where?”
“I forgot that Chrissy has something at school I’m supposed to be at.”
Harmon gets up and follows me. “Cassius, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly. Way too quickly. He doesn’t believe me.
“If this is too much, you can tell me,” he says gently. “We will figure something else out.”
“I—”
My heart is pounding and my head is screaming run, run, run!
Why am I panicking?
I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth. I feel his hands on me, soft and warm. My arm, My shoulder. My neck. Jaw. I open my eyes and he’s staring at me with concern.
“What’s going on?”
“Just having a panic attack,” I mutter.
“Clearly. But why?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Well, I do, but I don’t.”
His brows raise.
“I know it doesn’t make sense. I think I need to go home and lay down, okay?”
“You’re okay to drive?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“I can have someone drive you.”
“Harmon, I’m fine.”
“Text me when you get home?”
I smirk, my shoulders deflating. “You’re going to worry about me now?”
“This isn’t new,” he says seriously.
“Oh. I—uh… okay,” I say, accepting it. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry if that’s weird for you, but it’s the truth.”
“I’m not used to someone worrying about me, is all.”
“I know that.” He leans in to kiss my cheek, then whispers, “Drive safe. Don’t forget to text me.”
The moment I pull up in front of my house, I send him a text to let him know I made it. Then I go up to my room, crawl into bed, and smell the pillow he slept on until I fall asleep.