Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
BANE
I was busy the next morning when a throat clearing at my door made me look up. Myers stood in the doorway, coffee and a bag clutched in her hand.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She came in, sliding the coffee my way and opening the bag, presenting me with a muffin. It was huge, studded with blueberries, and the aroma of it was sweet and lemony.
“I thought you might need some help.” She pushed the muffin closer to me. “And sustenance.”
“I don’t eat store-bought muffins as a rule.”
“Good. This is homemade.” Another small push my way. “And still warm.”
I stared at it, then her. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was dressed casually again in leggings and a T-shirt. Another too-big flannel shirt topped her outfit.
I pulled the muffin close and broke off a piece, chewing. It was dense, sweet, and delicious. I closed my eyes as I swallowed the treat.
“You made this?” I asked, opening my eyes.
“Yes.”
I broke off another piece as she sat down, rolling up the sleeves of her flannel shirt.
“Tell me, Myers. Do you use these as bait in your lumberjack-hunting? Is some poor man wandering the park, dazed, looking for his shirt?” I asked lightly. The truth was, I hated seeing a man’s shirt on her, and I had the burning desire to know who it belonged to. “Or is your boyfriend some hulking construction worker who lets you raid his closet?”
She laughed, the sound odd in my office. It was low and sweet, making me long to join in her amusement. Instead, I ate another piece of the delicious muffin.
“The shirts belonged to my dad. They’re soft and comfortable. I like casual on the weekends.”
That news relaxed my shoulders for some reason. “Ah,” was all I said. “Your boyfriend doesn’t mind then, I suppose.”
She met my eyes. “No boyfriend.”
“Ah,” I repeated.
“Um, Alex, I mean Bane, I mean Mr. Bane…” She stumbled over her words.
I frowned. “Bane is fine, Myers. What are you so eloquently trying to express?”
She drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for what you said last night. It was very kind of you to include me in your speech even though I didn’t work with you at the time you did that design.”
“You work for me now.”
“I know, and I like it here. I’m trying to do a good job for you.”
“Your efforts are noticed.”
For a moment, we stared at each other, a warmth growing around us. Her rich brown eyes grew larger, and her breathing picked up. Fascinated, I watched the pulse jump at the base of her throat. Saw the flush on her cheeks. She felt this as well.
I shook my head to dispel the thoughts that had crept in and cleared my throat.
“Your work is fine, Myers. As for helping today, perhaps you can work on some of the 3-D forms on the printer.”
She blinked. “Okay. Do you always do that for a client?”
“No, usually the 3-D images on a computer are good enough, but this client is very picky and likes a mock-up that they can stand and look at. He and his wife will move things around and tweak at times. This is their third resort, and they pay big for the concept model and display it under glass once it’s done. We have it fully finished for them once everything is set. They say it’s always a great draw in the lobby.”
“All right.”
“Luckily, the buildings are done already. Now, I add the flourishes.” I indicated the table at the other end of the room where the model was set up. It had been delivered after she’d left last night, and I planned on starting the time-consuming work of printing and placing the gardens, trees, and pathways.
“I can do that.”
“Great.”
We worked for a while, the only sound the printer as it carved out the trees and plants. None of them were huge, but each piece took between ten and twenty minutes. The larger ones, I would print during meetings or after hours.
I kept watching her. She had removed her flannel, and her T-shirt was tight across her breasts as she leaned over the printer, watching or removing one of the pieces being printed and cured. I found her as fascinating to observe today as I had all week.
She brought me a sandwich, this one ham and cheese on sourdough, and I devoured it. I drank the foamy coffee, still not ready to admit I liked it better than the black I’d always preferred. I wouldn’t want her to think she was getting the upper hand. After I finished the sandwich, I ate the rest of the muffin from the morning.
I studied her as I ate, not bothering to pretend to be working. I didn’t have to. She was busy enough for us both. Last night, she had been stunning. Sexy. A siren. Today, she was plain, simple. And I felt an even stronger draw to her than before. Her clothing covered her more than her usual skirts and blouses, yet she was effortlessly sexy.
And I had a feeling she didn’t even know it.
I returned to the document I was trying to work on, impatient when I couldn’t access some information on the server. Frustrated, I barked out her name. “Myers!”
She came over, shaking her head. “No need to bellow. I’m right here.”
“Why can’t I access some of the HR documentation on the server?”
She frowned and came around the desk, indicating for me to move my chair. I pushed back, and she stepped in front of me, bending slightly. Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, while my gaze was glued to her ass. Right there. In front of me. Round, perky. Beckoning. My fingers twitched to touch it. Cup and stroke it. The sudden desire to touch her everywhere hit me. I wanted to know if her skin was as soft as it looked. How her hair felt fisted in my hand. If she smelled as sweet as I thought she would at the base of her neck. If her skin would blossom for me if I bit down and left a mark.
My mark.
My cock roared to life, and I almost groaned as yearning swamped me. I wanted her. I wanted to hear her whisper my name again. Not Mr. Bane, not Bane.
Alex.
I wanted to hear her moan. Whimper. I needed her fingers clutching me. Touching me. I longed for her lips on mine. Her tongue in my mouth. I wanted to see that tattoo again. Trace its shape with my tongue. I pushed away, standing just as she straightened. She stumbled back, and without a thought, I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her back to my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I felt her against me. Soft to my hard. Cool to my heat. Trembling to my heavy breathing. My cock was trapped between us, evidence of my state of mind.
It took everything in me not to turn her in my arms and kiss her. Sweep everything off my desk and lift her there, settling between her legs and giving in to the overwhelming passion I was feeling. But my gaze drifted to the file folder she had accessed for me. HR.
Jesus, I was her boss, and I was planning on breaking every rule and fucking my assistant on my desk. That was an HR issue ready to explode.
I stepped back, dropping my arms. “Watch your footing, Myers.”
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“You can go now. We’ve worked enough.”
She hesitated.
“Go, Myers. Now ,” I growled.
She nodded and edged her way past me. She hurried to my door, shutting it behind her. A moment later, I heard the outside door slam.
I dropped to my chair, cradling my head in my hands.
What had I almost done?
Did she know how she affected me?
How was I going to face her on Monday?
I rolled my shoulders. Nothing happened. Nothing would happen.
I would make sure of it.
Then I turned my attention back to the task at hand and forced her out of my mind.
Which would have been easier if I couldn’t smell her everywhere. Taste her fragrance in the air. If the project I had decided to undertake wasn’t mostly for her.
Fuck it, it was all for her.
Dammit.
MAGNOLIA
Monday, I was unsure what to expect. His unexpected praise on Friday—in public, no less—had left me reeling. I had no idea what had come over him, unless he was drunk. But his gait was steady, his eyes clear, and his voice firm when he spoke. He left before I had the chance to ask him. At the table, Rylee looked pleased with herself, while Verity and Rhonda were almost gnashing their teeth. I was certain if they could have gotten away with it, I would have been stabbed with their butter knives. They had to settle for dirty looks and some whispered words, no doubt cursing me. Then they left, two dark shadows in an otherwise pleasant night.
“What was that?” I breathed out, sitting back in my chair. “I think I need a drink.”
Rylee grinned. “That was your boss backing you up.”
Then another staff member joined us, and I never got a chance to speak to her alone again.
Saturday, I knew Bane was working. I got up and baked some of my best muffins, made sandwiches, then headed to the office. He was surprised to see me, but he accepted the muffin and waved off my thanks. His words warmed me, though. We had worked well for a few hours, but something felt different. Easier. I caught him staring at me more than once. Felt his eyes on me often. His voice wasn’t as clipped. His requests were polite. Nicer.
Until the moment he needed help on the server and I moved in front of him. The sensation of him behind me was overwhelming. In the tight space, his knees pressed against my thighs. I could smell his cologne. When he stood and I stumbled back into him, I felt everything.
His muscled chest. Strong arms that banded me tight to his body. His sinewy forearms that were taut and warm under my fingers. I felt his breath stir my hair, and I swore I felt his lips press to the crown of my head.
And trapped between us, I felt him . Hard. Rigid. Huge. For a moment, neither of us moved. All I wanted was to turn in his arms and kiss him. Feel his mouth on mine. Fan the desire coursing through my body.
Until he ordered me to leave, his voice strained with tension. It broke the spell I was under, and I rushed away, fleeing the office as if the hounds of hell were chasing me. I took the stairs, not waiting for the elevator. Panting, exhausted, and confused, I sat on the cold concrete steps of the main floor, catching my breath and wondering what had just happened.
He’d been on my mind the rest of the day, starred in my dreams that were vivid and hot. I woke up Sunday, wet and aching, his name on my lips. He was everywhere the rest of the day, overshadowing anything I attempted to do. I was grateful for a change when my dad slept through most of my visit. I was having trouble concentrating.
And now, standing outside the office building, I had to face him.
Would he be cold and indifferent again?
Address what had happened?
Pretend nothing had occurred?
I drew in a long inhale of oxygen.
There was only one way to find out.
He was already there, his head bent over his laptop, his door partially closed. I sat down, scanning emails, then went to get his coffee. I made a black one, unsure how he would react to one of my “foamy” concoctions. I had a feeling he liked them more than he admitted, only pretending to be upset when I brought him one.
But I wasn’t testing anything today.
I walked into the office, grabbed my notebook, squared my shoulders, and knocked on his door.
“In,” he snapped.
I pushed open the door, approached his desk, and set down his coffee, flicking on the mug warmer. He lifted his gaze to me, then dropped it quickly.
“Morning,” I said brightly as I sat down.
He grunted in return, then spoke. “I have a meeting with HR this morning at nine. Push everything back for a couple of hours.”
“I had already cleared your schedule, so you’re good.”
That got me another grunt.
“If you can keep working on the printing, I would appreciate it. I got more done, so refer to the list.”
“Of course. Anything else?”
He sat back, meeting my gaze. The ice was back in his eyes, and although he looked tired, his voice was clear and the blue was cold. “I apologize for Saturday. That was totally inappropriate.”
I swallowed and decided to play dumb. “Asking me to work? I offered.”
He narrowed his eyes. “For grabbing you.”
I stood, shaking my head. “I stumbled, you caught me, which I’m grateful for. Nothing else.”
He met my eyes, and I kept my gaze steady.
“If you say so.”
I flashed him a bright smile. “What else could have happened? Now, if you will excuse me, I have the last of your expenses to go through, and then I’ll get back to the printing.”
He nodded. “Fine.”
He was in and out all day, and Laura and Jessica from HR were in his office more than once. He had a meeting with his partners and was terse and impatient. He rushed through his lunch and drank way too much coffee. I had no idea what was going on with HR, but I had an uncomfortable feeling it was about me, and I wondered if it had anything to do with what didn’t happen on Saturday.
The flowers that showed up that afternoon were lovely. Larger than the others I had received and fragrant. This time, there was no card. I traced the petals of the pink rose in the middle with my finger, wondering how long I would keep receiving the weekly flowers. I had to admit, I would miss the brightness and scent of them on my desk, but it was bound to happen. One day, the mysterious Ty would stop sending the lovely flowers. Until then, I would enjoy them.
Bane seemed irked as usual when he saw them, but all I heard was a grunt as he walked past, shutting his door.
Tuesday was much of the same behavior from Bane. Unless it was business, we hardly spoke, and whatever he was so deeply entrenched in was taking up all his free time, which was hard to come by as it was.
Wednesday afternoon, I heard a commotion in the hall, and I looked up, recognizing Bane’s mother’s haughty voice. I stood, rounding the corner of my desk. I met Bane’s gaze, confirming that he, too, had heard his mother approaching. He looked annoyed, heading to his door.
“Get rid of her,” he hissed. “I have enough shit to deal with today. And I don’t need a lecture on what a disappointment I am.”
I nodded, grabbing the doorknob to shut it.
“Under no circumstances let her in my office, Myers. Whatever you have to do, do it. If she gets past you this time, you’re fired.”
I swallowed. “I’ll take care of it.”
I stayed in front of Bane’s door, glad when I heard the lock engage. Short of breaking in to the office, his mother couldn’t gain access to him. Now, I had to figure out how to get her to leave without causing a scene. I grabbed a pile of files and my phone to use as a prop, pretending I just happened to be in front of the door.
She came through the outer door, her face set into a scowl. I wondered if she had another expression—I had certainly never seen it.
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Bane—I mean Mrs. Johnstone. I wasn’t expecting you today.”
“I don’t need an appointment to see my son. Step aside.”
“I can’t do that.”
She drew her already straight shoulders even straighter. “And why not?”
“He can’t see you right now.”
“I’ll wait.”
“No, that won’t work either. He’s tied up all afternoon.”
“Ridiculous.” She tried to get to the door handle, but I stepped in front of it, shaking my head.
“I can’t let you go in there.”
“Can’t or won’t?” She narrowed her eyes. “Tell him I am here.”
“I can’t do that either.”
“And why not?”
My mind raced. Telling her he didn’t want to see her was useless. She would park herself in front of my desk and wait. Admitting if I let her in I would be fired would do no good either. She wouldn’t care.
“He isn’t in his office.”
“You’re lying. I can see the light under the door. I heard his voice when I was in the hall.”
I sighed, desperate, unsure what to do. Except I had to get rid of her. I needed this damn job.
“He is in there,” I admitted. I heard a low growl, and I knew he had heard me. The bastard was on the other side of the door, waiting to see what was going to happen. “But he can’t see you. He’s, ah, dealing with a personal situation.”
“What sort of personal situation?”
I was at a loss. Most people would take the hint and leave, but not this woman. Two ideas quickly developed. Both unacceptable. But I panicked and said the first one that came to mind.
“He sent me out for lunch today. I got him street tacos.” I met her eyes, widening mine for drama. “Bad idea.”
“I don’t understand.”
I leaned closer as if sharing a secret. “He has explosive diarrhea. He can’t stop shitting himself.”
She reared back, the horrified look on her face priceless. “I beg your pardon.”
I shrugged. “It’s horrendous. The last blowout was excessive. I’ve called maintenance, but we’re still waiting for cleanup and to unclog the pipes. It’s a good thing he keeps extra suits here, if you get my drift. But surely you understand he needs his privacy right now.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the text.
MYERS
I sighed, hearing his anger in the use of my name. Maybe because it was in bold. Capitals. But he wasn’t happy. I shrugged in resignation, committed to getting rid of this woman who upset him so much. “I wouldn’t wait. I suggest you try again some other time. When the air is clearer.” I waved my hand. “The smell,” I whispered. “Like something died.”
She turned and walked away. Almost ran.
I sat at my desk and replied.
She’s gone.
A moment later, he replied.
My office. NOW, MYERS.
I looked around in sorrow. Shame. I was starting to enjoy this job.
I knocked and waited. I heard the lock unclick, and I heaved a sigh. I brought my notebook with me, unsure why, except I felt better holding it. As if I was going into his office to get instructions, not meet my demise.
I walked in, turning to shut the door after glimpsing his face. Tornado Bane came to mind for this expression. Purveyor of Death was another.
Either way, it wasn’t good.
I drew in a much-needed calming breath and crossed the office, not meeting his eyes. I sat down, opening up my notebook, prolonging the inevitable. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of our breathing. Mine rapid, his deep, no doubt readying to torch me with his words.
I dared to look up. His gaze was enough to incinerate me. He began to tap his finger on his desk, another sign of agitation.
“I need you to assure me that I was having an out-of-body incident, perhaps a stroke, leading me to imagine you told my mother I was ‘shitting my pants with explosive diarrhea.’ I couldn’t possibly have heard that.” The tapping increased. “You did not use the words blowout and clogged pipes.”
“Um,” I said hesitantly. “Would you believe me if I said that, yes, you had a stroke? I’ll call your physician.”
“Myers.”
I threw up my hands. “You said by any means possible! It was the best of the two ideas I had!”
“Telling my mother I shat my pants was the best idea?” he roared.
“She left, didn’t she?”
That made him pause. He rubbed his eyes, muttering. I frowned. He was anxious, tapping the desk and shaking his head. All signs of high stress for him. Plus, the muttering. He might have a stroke yet. I wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing right now or not.
He dropped his head to the back of the chair with a low groan, covering his eyes. “God give me strength. I meant for you to tell her I was in an afternoon meeting or on a client call that would take hours. Something business-related. Not—” he waved his fingers “—that.”
“Oh. I did tell her you were busy, but that didn’t work. She is difficult to deal with.”
He dropped his hand and sat up. “I know.”
“So, should I clean out my desk?”
He met my gaze, the electric-blue of his eyes mesmerizing. They didn’t look as angry as they had when I first sat down.
“Maybe I’ll tell Pete downstairs that the next time she shows up, to call ahead. You can hide,” I offered.
“I’m a grown man. I do not hide.”
“Um, the locked door and ‘ get rid of her’ from earlier begs to differ, Bane.”
He scowled. “I’ll leave my office so you can be honest and say I am not in.”
I nodded. “You can hide in the supply closet or somewhere.”
His finger was shaking as he pointed to the door. “Out.”
“For good?” I asked, worried.
He sighed. “I’ll let it go this once. You did get rid of her.”
“Thank you, Bane. I mean Mr. Bane. I’ll be more circumspect next time.”
“See that you are.”
I stood, and he looked at me with curiosity. “What was your other idea?”
“I was going to tell her you had an STI.”
He gaped at me. “What the fuck?”
I nodded. “No mother wants to walk in on her son playing with his knob like some high schooler with his first Nintendo joystick. I’ve heard those STIs are itchy.” I risked winking at him. “I planned on telling her that I informed you the two Brazilian strippers weren’t a good idea at the bachelor party you’d planned on the weekend, but you refused to listen.”
He stared, his mouth open, and I wondered if he had indeed had that stroke.
Then he swallowed. “Get out of my office.”
I shrugged. “It was either shitting your pants or pulling on your Long John Silver to relieve the itch. I went with the classier one. Either one assured her leaving.”
“My long—” He pointed to the door, his voice sounding odd. “Out. Now.”
I walked out, beginning to shut the door when I heard it. It was the oddest noise. I turned and poked my head back in the door, making sure he wasn’t choking on his tongue. I would have been less surprised at that than the sight that met my eyes.
Alexander Bane was leaning back in his chair, covering his mouth, and laughing.
He was actually laughing.
For a moment, I watched him, fascinated. He was incredibly sexy as he chortled, wiping his eyes and sitting up, only to start chuckling again. I shut the door quietly and returned to my desk.
A hundred points to me.
I made sure to behave on Thursday and Friday. I didn’t want to push it. I purposely let all his mother’s calls go to voice mail, though.
Bane didn’t bring it up—not once. But I had a feeling I would hear about it again at some point.
Friday, an unplanned staff meeting was announced. After some trivial items were addressed, Mr. Lawson stood and discussed the awards, thanking everyone for their hard work and dedication to the company. He indicated Bane, clapping him on the shoulder. “And of course, the man of the hour.”
There was a round of applause, and to my shock, Bane stood. “Thank you again. Now, I rarely speak at these meetings, but today, I have something to say. I have been in early talks with HR and my partners, and I want to bring everyone up to speed on a new protocol that will be implemented at Balanced Designs.” He paused, looking down at the wooden surface of the boardroom table, his hands closing into fists on the top. His voice deepened as he looked up, his face and voice serious. “Nothing bothers me more than a bully. Than people using their position, their words, or their attitude to make another person feel less. Here at Balanced Designs, we discourage any conduct of that sort, but it seems there are those who engage in that exact behavior.”
He cast his ice-cold gaze around the room. “It will not be accepted. A committee is being formed and new anti-bullying protocols will be set in place. Every staff member will attend a series of anti-bullying seminars that will be mandatory. You will not be employed here otherwise.” He drew in a long, deep breath. “That we have to do this sickens me. That people refuse to grow up and leave high school behind is a frightening thought. But again, it will not be tolerated here. You bully someone with words, gossip, belittling, you will not work here. And no one is immune to this.” He picked up his phone. “I will leave HR to finish up. Any and all questions can be put in writing and directed to them and the committee we have created. I will be the head of it.”
And he walked out.
BANE
I stared out the window, leaning against the back of the sofa. The office was quiet since I couldn’t be bothered printing anything right now. I sipped some whiskey, the glass a heavy weight in my hand. It was unusual for me to imbibe during the day, but the last week had been hell. From the moment I realized it was Myers those women were disparaging, I had been livid. I despised any sort of person that talked down to others. That made someone feel less. I was upset enough to know a group of women were doing that in my company, but when I knew their target was Myers, it was no-holds-barred. I spent hours going through our HR manuals. Talking with Lawson and Anderson. Laura and Jessica in HR. Our lawyer. When I informed them I wanted this new policy in place and offered to head it up, they were surprised, shocked, but supportive. They, too, disliked the idea of adults still acting like spoiled teenagers.
There was no place for it here.
I swallowed the last of my whiskey and set down the glass. I was restless, upset, and edgy. I needed to go home, hit the gym, then come back tomorrow and finish the model. They would be here next Thursday, and I wanted some time for tweaks. It amazed me once I saw a concept model the number of small changes I would make. Wearily, I rubbed my eyes. I needed something else, but I couldn’t have it.
My door opened, and Myers came in, shutting the door behind her. I met her eyes in the reflection of the window, watching her approach me. She was lovely again today, her hair down, a pretty blouse setting off her coloring.
She stood in front of me.
“You should have come to me,” I informed her.
“I can handle myself. I don’t care what they say about me.”
“I do.”
“Why?” she asked quietly.
I knew what she was asking.
“Because no one should feel less.” I let out a long sigh. “Especially you, Myers.”
I held her gaze. “I know I’m not an easy boss. But you can come to me about anything. I’ll listen. And I apologize if I have been unkind or mistreated you. I know I can be…hard to handle.”
She smiled, her eyes crinkling. “I kind of like you hard to handle. You make me laugh.”
I chuckled. “I had no idea.”
She nodded. “I keep track when I do.”
“Keep track?”
“In my notebook. When I make you laugh, when you make me laugh.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice and shooting me a wink. “I’m winning.”
I shook my head. “You’re an odd girl, Myers. But I rather like that.”
For a moment, there was silence, our eyes locked on each other. I felt the heat grow between us, warm and pulsating. The urge to kiss her, hold her, grew.
“Why?” she asked again.
Bravely, irrationally, stupidly, I raised my hand, stroking it down her cheek. “Because it’s you.”
I didn’t know who moved first, but suddenly, she was in my arms, our mouths fused together. I plunged my tongue inside her sweetness, tasting her. A tortured groan escaped my throat at the feeling of her in my arms. I bent, lifting her, setting her on the back of the sofa, standing between her legs. I wound one hand in her hair, deepening the kiss, devouring her. The other hand rested on her perfect ass, and I ground against her.
It didn’t matter that I was her boss. That she irritated me daily. I didn’t care that she was my assistant. The desk and the coffee incident didn’t matter. Her hilarious way of getting rid of my mother was brilliant. She shocked and beguiled me at every turn. Every day was something new and different. Often outrageous. I had never felt so alive. She was the woman I thought of constantly. I was becoming obsessed with her. I couldn’t deny it. I wanted her.
She whimpered as I dragged my lips across her cheek, kissing my way down her neck.
“Myers,” I groaned as she dug her fingers into my shoulders.
The slam of a door in the hall brought our passion to a startling halt. I straightened, meeting her panicked eyes.
What the hell was I doing? Ravishing my assistant—in my office during business hours. Jesus, I was her boss. Her superior. I needed to get a grip.
Sadly, I drew a finger across her cheek, rubbing my finger on her wet lips.
I stepped back, tugging her off the sofa.
“That was inappropriate. I apologize.”
She stared up at me, eyes large, lips swollen, and her hair in disarray. She had never been more lovely to me.
She reached up, touching my cheek. I captured her hand and kissed the palm.
“Inappropriate? No. Interrupted. Yes,” she whispered.
Then she left.
I missed her before she even shut the door.