Chapter 12
Archer
”Good morning,”I say as I walk past Hazel’s desk.
Anticipation bubbles inside me, and I act like the week without her wasn”t a nightmare. The temp sucked. She was helpful, yes, but she wasn”t Hazel. Every time I looked at her working at Hazel’s desk, I felt like this intruder was sitting in her chair and shamelessly using her computer. A sham.
She lifts her eyebrow. ”Morning,” she says, following me into my office as usual.
I take off my jacket and put it on my chair. ”How”s your father?” I texted her a few times, but she only replied with a brief update, like she was done with our relationship. I wasn”t. I”m still not.
I intended to drop by her condo to check in on her last week, but I had to leash that urge tightly. She”s my assistant and no longer a fake date. We”re not friends, which is the way I”ve always preferred things at work, especially with subordinates. She asked me for space at the hospital, and I didn”t want to smother and overwhelm her during a difficult time.
”He”s good.”
Her vagueness irritates me. I need to know more. ”Does he need anything? Have you tried that on-call nurse service?” I insist.
”We”re good, Mr. Cromwell. My dad is up to his old tricks and feels like a new man.”
”Okay.” Mr. Cromwell, huh? I can”t be mad at her for that. She”s establishing those boundaries again. I scratch my chin. That”s how she wants to play. Hmmmm.
She wants to ice me out. We never had a chance to talk about what happened in Malcolm’s home. She said she’d already forgotten it… Is it true? Why is she acting so indifferent right now?
She sits across from me and goes over the usual stuff. People I need to contact, upcoming meetings, important stuff. With every word she says, I feel a bubble of contempt expanding my way, so close it could burst.
When I stare at her in silence, she shifts in her chair. A warm blush spreads across her cheeks, even though I don”t do or say anything to unsettle her. Is she thinking about what happened at Malcolm”s dinner party?
I don”t shy away from the challenge, and my gaze travels from her hair in a sleek ponytail down to her smart white long-sleeved blouse and black pants. She”s dressed as usual, but I won”t ever be able to see her the same way as before.
My body stirs in a shameful state of unrest.
Hazel puts her iPad on her lap and raises her eyebrow. ”Is there anything else you need from me?”
Hell, yes. There”s a lot I need from you. If I were a better man, I wouldn’t test her—not today. But I need to know with her actions what she won’t tell me with her words. ”I want you to go get me some coffee,” I say, convincing myself I meant to do so jokingly. Still, the second I see a spark of challenge in her eyes, any good intention goes out the window.
”I did earlier, but you were late to work.”
Do I detect an accusatory tone in her voice? Did she… wait for me? Or is she annoyed I”m being my regular self?
”So you”ll do it again. Five minutes.”
”It won”t take me five minutes to take the elevator, walk up there, order, and come back,” she says, annoyance dripping from her voice.
”Fine. Seven minutes.”
She stands. ”Ten.”
I shake my head. ”Seven.”
She crosses her hand over her chest. ”What will happen if I don”t make it in time? I won”t win employee of the month?”
I appreciate her moxie. I knew it was bubbling under the surface. She’s been muttering passive-aggressive comments low enough she thought I wouldn”t hear. I know how she feels, especially after reading her diary entries. This overt annoyance only adds more tension between us. ”I”ll think of a reasonable demerit.”
She widens her eyes. ”A demerit! This is crazy?—”
I grab my phone and set it on the timer. ”Seven minutes. I”d run if I were you.”
Huffing, she turns, and I look at her ass as she leaves. Somehow, that perfect ass got overlooked before, and even though she”s wearing modest pants now, I”ve seen its shape in a more flattering outfit. I”ve seen it and felt it.
My insides burn.
I shouldn”t make this poor girl run around grabbing my coffee. But a part of me wants to make her pay for getting in my head and not leaving, for making me question my behavior and principles, for making me feel bad about myself, for making me… want to be someone I”m not.
I hated not seeing her for the past nine days. Hated not having her in my office and having her reply with short messages whenever I texted. She drove me crazy. She made me anxious and insecure in a way I don”t allow anyone to.
I want to punish her for all that, and by doing so, I blindly jeopardize all I have.
All I”ve worked for.
Yet, I can”t stop.
Her phone rings at her desk, and in any other circumstance, I”d let it go to voicemail, but because of her dad”s situation, I head for her desk. What if something happened again?
I”m a jerk, yes, but I”m not inhuman.
”Archer Cromwell.”
”Archer,” says the female voice on the other end of the line. ”Hi. I was hoping to talk to your assistant. It”s Sarah Harrington here.”
Fuck. Sarah Harrington. Brooks’ wife.
”She stepped away. How can I help you?” I put on my most charming voice, hoping she can hear my smile on the other end of the line.
”I was just getting your contact info. I enjoyed meeting you and Hazel a couple of weekends ago.”
”So did we.”
”I”m throwing a birthday party at my place and wanted to invite y”all.”
”We”ll be happy to attend.” I give her my email, and she says she”ll send me the details.
This is another opportunity to meet Brooks, who still hasn”t contacted me. I sent him a follow-up email, to which his assistant replied, saying he’d gone out of town and would respond soon. Well, soon still hasn’t happened. Is he super busy or buying time? I don”t want the rapport diluted, and this birthday party is an excellent opportunity to strengthen it. I bet all of his partners and their wives will be there.
I hang up the phone, and excitement threads through me. Excellent. Who would have thought Hazel was my secret weapon all along?
I look at Hazel”s desk, neat as usual.
I touch her drawer, the second one, and open it.
My heart races as I fumble with the scattered papers, searching for her journal. I searched for it last week before the temp took over her desk because I didn”t want anyone to read it. I couldn”t find it, which meant Hazel took it home. Smart girl.
I know it”s wrong; it”s violating the trust I don”t even think we share yet, but I need to see if she wrote anything about me.
My cynical side says a journal like that can compromise me, and she can use it as evidence in a lawsuit.
With that rationalization, I touch it. I look at the time on the phone. In a few minutes, she”ll be back.
I need to be quick.
I scan the page, and her words leap from the paper.
She still hates me. Great. I don”t have to worry about an unlikely bond forming between us.
Then…
I feel fucking wrong that my pussy is in such an unfortunate state after you touched it.
I”ve been soaking wet like never before, and there”s this pulsing ache between my legs that won”t go away—masturbating is useless.
I rock back in the chair, restless. Lust stirs in my body, and it”s like the air has been sucked from my lungs. Damn.
What she wrote before were her fantasies, but this… this is real. Based on what happened between us. I run my fingers down my face. Then I look at the clock on her monitor. Shit. I need to get out of here before she returns. I carefully put the journal back in the drawer and add the papers on top the same way as before.
I close the drawer, surge to my feet, and then return to my office, my recent discovery energizing me.
She wants me. It”s not just fantasy.
And I want her.
I pause and question my motives. Do I only want Hazel because she”s a novelty? Because she”s wrong for me. Forbidden. I have never gotten intimate with an employee before. I know better, but common sense has no chance in this matter.
Hazel Dillon has the power to destroy my reputation with the jotting of a pen. I have the power to stop her, but this crazy desire is making it impossible to use it.
I look at the clock.
She”s been gone for almost seven minutes.