Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
ADRIANNA
My thumb clicks the pen over and over as I read the email in front of me that Elijah sent telling me to find him a new dry cleaner. He didn’t like the bag they sent his clothes home in last time.
Be fucking for real.
Elijah makes it really, really hard to like him.
In fact, he makes it easy to hate him despite the way he makes me feel.
He’s fine if he stands there all judgmental.
Something about it makes my skin tingle, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about.
Then he has to go and ruin it by running his mouth.
You didn’t seem to mind his dirty mouth when he was fucking you.
It’s that little voice in the back of my head that’s been nagging me.
Logically, I know I should hate the man.
He has been nothing but an asshole to me since he came here.
Other than the orgasms, he has given me nothing but grief.
Yet those same orgasms are the reason my head is muddled when it comes to him.
I don’t know how to reconcile that I fucked him and I want to again with the fact that I also want to strangle him in his sleep most days.
It’s as if two parts of me are warring with one another.
My head is spearheading the hate campaign against the enemy while my pussy is salivating for another taste of him. It’s driving me insane.
It doesn’t help that he keeps sending me these looks. Sometimes they are heated, while other times they are annoyed. I have no idea how to read him.
I shake my head, pushing away the thought.
No, I need to hold strong and avoid him as much as possible. It’s the only way I know to prevent us from crashing into each other again. I won’t let him risk my reputation in the office by fucking me on his desk. No, everyone we work with can never know. Not even Francine.
I hear the elevator ding but don’t look up until I sense someone approaching.
“Hi, how can I help you?” I ask the man from a local courier company.
“I have a delivery for a Mr. Samson.”
“Sure, I can take it.”
I hold out my hand, and he slips me his tablet to sign. After I’m done, I hand it back, and he passes me a manila envelope.
“Have a great day,” he says before walking away.
“Thanks, you too.”
I look down at the envelope and see it’s from the event space where the gala is going to be held. I know for a fact that the contract was done considering I’m the one who signed it, so why are they sending something over now?
Very carefully I open the envelope, my curiosity getting the better of me. As I read through it, I can’t help but roll my eyes. Of course he got the event space for a cheaper price. I’m not even remotely surprised he managed to pull that off.
I can’t help but frown, though, when I see that he has requested less staffing than what I had hired. I usually have the event company bring in ten workers who will help wherever it’s needed for the night. They will fill in with bartending, discreetly remove trash, and help the caterers if needed.
Whatever. Maybe he hired someone else.
My eyes continue to scan down the paperwork, and my heart drops when I catch the date.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
Instead of having the gala scheduled for a Saturday, they have it down for a Monday.
Surely, that’s a mistake, right, and it wasn’t done intentionally.
With shaky hands, I slip the paperwork back into the envelope and tape it closed.
Biting my lip, I start to drum my fingers on my desk, trying to decide what to do.
Do I mention the date change to him? If I do, he would know that I opened something I shouldn’t have, and that would only make me look as guilty.
He already doesn’t trust me when it comes to the foundation as it is.
Then again, if I don’t tell him and he does hold it on a Monday, that means there’s no way he will earn more money than I did last year during my gala. I would come away as the winner and he would be forced to tell the Williamson boys that I deserve the position of CEO.
It’s such a conundrum.
I know what the right thing to do is, though. I can’t let this go even if it means admitting I looked at the mail.
I push back from my desk and grab the envelope. I take three steps until I’m in front of his door and I knock.
“Come in.”
“The courier dropped something off for you.”
He waves me forward and takes the envelope from me.
“Nice of you to show your face again, and here I thought you were hiding from me,” he says as he breaks the tape from the envelope.
“Fuck off, I don’t hide from anyone. Is there anything else you need from me?”
I watch his face as he scans the documents. Surely he’s going to find the error, right?
“I need you to get me a new coffee.”
My eyes roll before I can stop myself. “Seriously? You don’t even drink it.”
“Only you and I know that. They don’t.” I don’t bother to move, and when he notices, he looks up and narrows his eyes. “I’m waiting.”
Huffing, I grab the cup off his desk and leave.
I march down the hallway and into the break room.
Instead of tossing the coffee out, though, I put it in the microwave for a minute and a half.
Once the microwave beeps, I pull it out.
While I stir it, I look into the swirling abyss and an idea takes form.
I spit in the liquid like I did all those weeks ago.
With confident steps, I walk back toward his office and let myself in.
“I spit in it,” I tell him as I set the cup down.
Elijah drops the papers and stares me down. I will my face to stay neutral. I can’t let him see that my impulsive decision is now making me nervous.
“Did you now?” He leans back in his chair, smirking at me.
“I did.” My hands find their way to my hips.
Elijah leans forward and picks up the cup.
Without looking away from me, he brings it to his mouth and takes a drink.
It’s so silent you could hear a pin drop as he drinks down the beverage we both know he isn’t fond of.
He keeps gulping until the entire cup is gone. When he finishes, he sets the cup down.
“Delicious. Thank you.” He smacks his lips, licking any stray liquid from them.
My mouth has fallen open. I can’t believe he just did that. I was hoping to annoy him, but there is heat in his eyes. He is turned on right now.
“Did you seriously drink something after I told you I spit in it?” I stutter, shocked.
“I did.”
My nose crinkles. “Why? That’s disgusting?”
He raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Sweetheart, a little bit of spit has never bothered me. Did you forget that I’ve had my tongue buried deep in your pussy? Any piece of you is fair game, Adrianna.”
I have no response to that. What does one say? It’s almost sweet, what he said.
I don’t know why, but for some reason his words turn me on so much so that I can’t help but shift, rubbing my legs together. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Why does a man I can’t stand turn me on so much? It isn’t right.
Elijah chuckles darkly as I stand mute.
Without saying a word, I spin on my heel and make my way toward the door.
At the last minute, I spin and glance at him.
“The date is wrong. Have them correct it.”
I don’t specify what I mean. He will figure it out.
I didn’t owe him anything, but I owed the foundation.
Feeling out of sorts, I settle back into my desk, wondering what the fuck just happened.
I’m well and truly fucked.
ELIJAH
Leaning back in my chair, I smile as I look at the door.
I can’t see her, but I know Adrianna is on the other side.
Probably squeezing a stress ball or cursing me in her mind.
I know it’s fucked up, but I love messing with her.
Ever since we hooked up, she’s constantly on my mind.
I want more and more of her when it seems to be the last thing she wants.
Or at least that’s what her mouth says. Her body says something completely different, though.
Fuck, I know it’s wrong, but I get off on riling her up.
The way she glares when she brings me coffee in the morning makes my cock twitch.
I think about the other day and how she said she spit in it and how she thought it would turn me off makes me chuckle.
Shit, I’ll drink the sludge if she spits in it just to prove a point to her that she doesn’t scare me.
Nothing she does will make me walk away.
She’s the black widow who caught me in her web, only she didn’t anticipate that I’m not some helpless insect.
No, I’m a predator too, and now I have her in my sights as well.
I smile as I look down at the angry sticky note on my desk.
Something new that’s been showing up after every time she comes into my office.
If she thinks leaving sassy fucking sticky notes all over telling me that I’m doing things wrong is going to make me fire her, she’d be wrong.
All it makes me want to do is bend her over my desk and feel her pussy clench around me as I fuck her hard and fast like she wants.
Numbers under the sticky note catch my attention, making me sigh.
Every spare moment I’ve had, I’ve been combing over the financials for the last four years, and I haven’t found a single thing.
Every penny seems to be accounted for, and it’s driving me crazy.
Somewhere along the line I’ve started hoping that she’s innocent, but I can’t stop looking until I know for a fact.
Most other people would assume they haven’t found something, so there’s nothing to find. Not me. Things are lining up a little too neatly for me. My gut says something is wrong here.
I could just ask Adrianna about it. At first I didn’t because I couldn’t trust a single thing coming out of her mouth. Now, I don’t want confirmation that I have been right this whole time.
I hate that I feel that way. She’s making me weak. I need to just ask her.
Fuck it.
Reaching forward, I grab my phone and hit the button for her extension.
“How can I help you, Mr. Samson?” she murmurs through the phone.
I bite back a groan. The woman missed her calling to be a sex phone operator. Shit, I’d happily let her take all my money so I could hear her speak.
“Are you there, sir?” she asks.
I’d like to hear you call me sir as you come around my cock.
Clearing my throat, I push away my X-rated thoughts for now. “I need you to come to my office.”
She doesn’t say anything, making me frown.
“Did you hear me?”
“I did. I was just waiting for you to say please,” she quips.
“Will you come to my office, please, Adrianna?” I say, adding a little rasp to my voice.
I smile when I hear her suck in a breath.
That’s what I thought, you want me too, no matter how much you try to deny it.
“I’ll be right in, sir,” she says before hanging up.
Quickly, I wipe the smile from my face as she lets herself into my office, shutting the door behind her.
She looks gorgeous with her hair pulled up into a bun on the top of her head, showing off her long neck that I know looks even better with my beard burn on it.
She’s wearing a black skirt with a cream silk top that’s buttoned low.
Just a little tease of that body she hides beneath.
I can’t help but wonder if she dressed with me in mind this morning.
Surely she knows that this look would make me want her more.
She claps her hands in front of her and rocks back on her heels. “What can I do for you?”
“What did you mean about the date being wrong?” I ask, suddenly remembering what she said before she left my office earlier.
“On the contract, they have the date wrong for the gala. They have it scheduled for a Monday instead of a Saturday,” she says, making my heart drop.
“Who said that wasn’t intentional?” I lie.
Will I be able to correct the date? Is it too late? No, you know what? It will be fine. I need her to believe that the date change was intentional.
“I just assumed where the gala is usually held on a Saturday.”
“Well, you know what they say about assuming…”
“Is that all? I have some work I need to get back to,” she says, clearly shutting the conversation down.
“I need you to work late tonight with me.”
“Sorry, I can’t. I have plans tonight.”
My eyes narrow. “Oh really, what kind of plans?”
“I have a date,” she blurts out so fast, giving away that she’s lying.
If she was really going on a date, she would have hesitated for a second. She would hate to admit that she was going out with another man when we’ve been intimate.
“Then you need to cancel it,” I demand.
Adrianna huffs. “I can’t just cancel because you think I should. That would be rude.”
“What’s rude is accepting a date with another man when you clearly only want one,” I say, raising a brow.
She rolls her eyes. “Could you possibly be any fuller of yourself?”
“I mean, you could be full of me. All you have to do is ask nicely,” I toss back, making her blush. “You like that idea, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“You’re insufferable,” she says halfheartedly.
“So you like to remind me. Now cancel that date.”
“Fine. Are you going to tell me what we will be ‘working on’?”
“No, you’ll have to wait and see.”
Her eyes narrow. “I hope you know that this isn’t going to end with us fucking again.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “I never said anything about us having sex, but I like where your mind is at. I’m sure we can work it into our schedule if you would like. It will have to be after we finish working, though, I’m a busy man after all.”
Her blush travels down her cheeks, across her neck, and to her chest.
“I hate you.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart,” I call out as she storms away, back to her desk.
Tonight is going to be interesting, and if all goes right, maybe, just maybe, she will let me have her again. A man can only hope.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is she doing to me?