4. Chapter Four
chapter four
. . .
Carter
Fuck me sideways.
The pictures didn’t do her justice. Olivia Friedman was more stunning in person than I cared to admit.
Chestnut hair twisted into an elegant knot, hazel eyes sparkling with a mixture of nerves and spirit. Her tailored charcoal skirt and crisp white blouse hugged her petite frame, exuding professionalism. But it was her warm and genuine smile that truly disarmed me.
Throughout the interview, I kept searching for the cracks in her veneer. But her poise never wavered, even as I launched into my usual barrage of probing questions.
“How about a time you succeeded?” I sat back, eager to hear her speak. I was drawn in by her passion, the way her eyes lit up when she described her past projects. Her insights into the needs of the community, the challenges they faced, were both astute and compassionate. It took me back to a time when I, too, felt that kind of passion for my work .
The auditorium erupted in applause as I stepped back from the podium, the significance of the moment settling on my shoulders. I had just presented my groundbreaking design for a sustainable housing complex, a project that would cement my reputation on an international stage.
I basked in the accolades, shaking hands with industry leaders and fielding questions from eager journalists, and a sense of triumph surged through me. This was the recognition that would propel my career to new heights.
But beneath the elation, an insidious ache persisted, a void that no amount of professional success could fill. The memory of my mother's face, etched with pain and despair, haunted me even in my moment of glory.
I blinked, refocusing on the woman before me. That drive, that hunger to make a difference. It resonated with me on a level I hadn't anticipated.
As the interview progressed, I was increasingly intrigued by the dichotomy of Olivia Friedman. Her cheerful demeanor belied a quiet strength simmering beneath the surface. I found myself wondering about the battles she'd fought, the scars she concealed beneath her pristine exterior.
An undercurrent of tension charged the air between us. I caught myself admiring the curve of her neck, the fullness of her lips, before chastising myself for the inappropriate thoughts.
I cleared my throat. “Well, Ms. Friedman, your qualifications are certainly impressive. But this position requires more than a well-crafted resume. It demands dedication, perseverance, and a willingness to go above and beyond. ”
Her eyes blazed with intensity. “Mr. Cassidy, I can assure you, I am no stranger to hard work or adversity. When I commit to something, I give it my all, no matter the obstacles in my path.”
In that moment, I knew she was more than qualified for the job. She had fire and tenacity that mirrored my own.
“Well then”—I rose from my chair and extended my hand—”welcome aboard, Ms. Friedman.”
Her smile was blinding as she stood, grasping my hand firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Cassidy. I won't let you down.”
I was almost sorry the interview was over. I wanted to keep probing the enigma that was Olivia Friedman. But I quashed the impulse, reminding myself of the boundaries I’d put in place years ago.
The click of the door echoed in the stillness of my office, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I turned back to the window, my gaze unseeing as I grappled with unfamiliar emotions.
Olivia was a puzzle, an intriguing blend of strength and vulnerability. And I was eager to uncover her secrets, to peel back the layers of her sunny facade and discover what lay beneath.
But my own secrets pressed down on me, reminding me of the dangers of catching feelings. I had built my career on the foundation of control, unrelenting focus, and ruthless ambition. To let myself be swayed by a pair of pretty eyes and a charming smile would be the ultimate weakness.
No . I turned back to my blueprints, resolved to maintain a professional distance and keep my interactions with Olivia strictly business related. I had no room in my life for complications. But sex didn’t have to be complicated. My date tonight would surely clear my head of all things Olivia.
A blonde head bobbed up and down on my cock. My date was on her knees, naked except for black high heels. She was gorgeous, sexy, tall and leggy. But every time she spoke, I had the urge to walk into traffic. I liked her better this way. She couldn’t talk with her mouth full.
She released me with a lewd pop and opened her mouth to do the very thing I didn’t want—speak.
“Don’t talk.” I yanked her up by her hair, enjoying the flash of surprise on her face as I maneuvered her toward a chair in my living room. One of many rarely used parts of my home. I didn’t have time for living.
She squealed when I bent her over, pushing her face-first into the leather. The position emphasized her ass nicely.
I moved in behind her, and she shifted to accommodate me. She knew what was coming. No hesitation, no resistance. I gripped the base of my dick, placing the tip at her entrance, and drove into her in one swift stroke.
I set a relentless pace, eager to get what I needed and be done with it. My eyes trailed over the exposed skin of her back, the dip of her waist, the way her blonde hair tumbled down. It was a sight, I'd give her that. But it wasn’t enough to distract me for long.
As I fucked her, my mind drifted to Olivia, an unwanted but persistent intrusion. It was that damn interview. She looked at me like she saw right through the bullshit. I had a grudging respect for that. Most people saw my success and asshole exterior and didn't bother looking deeper. But Olivia... I shook my head. It wasn't the time.
The blonde's moans filled the room, and there was something off about them. Suddenly, I realized she was faking it. Her body shuddered, and she cried out, but she sounded like a bad actress in a porn flick. My satisfaction faded, along with any chance for release. Cursing, I pulled out and turned away, my body still throbbing with need.
The blonde scrambled up from the chair, her eyes shining with feigned satisfaction. She threw herself at me, pressing her body against mine and kissing my neck. I tolerated it for a moment, my mind elsewhere, before I stepped back, breaking her grip.
“That's enough.”
“But, Carter?—”
“Get dressed and leave.”
Her eyes widened, and her mouth formed the beginnings of a protest. But then her gaze dropped to the floor, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she nodded.
I turned away while she gathered her clothes, unable to shake the heavy disappointment settling in my chest.
My eyes fell on the table where Olivia's resume still lay. I thought of her warm smile, the determined glint in her eye, and the way she'd challenged me during the interview. A surge of unwanted desire ran through me, and I swore under my breath.
“I'll show myself out,” the blonde said dully.
I grunted, not trusting myself to speak. When the front door clicked shut, I released a long breath, my eyes closing as I leaned back against the desk .
Damn it. I need a drink.
I strode to the kitchen and poured myself a generous measure of bourbon. Sipping the smooth liquid, I leaned against the counter, the events of the day playing through my mind.
There was a spark in Olivia, something that resonated with me. I understood ambition, the relentless pursuit of a goal. She was unlike any woman I'd met recently, and it left me curious. Wanting more.
I downed the rest of my drink, the burn in my throat matching the unwanted heat in my veins. Scowling, I shook my head, determined to forget about my new assistant and focus on something—anything else.
My cock was still semi-hard, unsated desire pulsing through me. Tonight had been a mistake. Yet another meaningless encounter that left me with an itch I couldn’t scratch. And now I couldn't get Olivia out of my head.
I poured myself another drink. The alcohol burned a path to my gut, but it didn't erase the image of her face.
It had been a while since I'd felt this pull toward someone. But I always shut it off. I'd built walls around myself for a reason.
But fuck, those walls were starting to feel suffocating.