Chapter 15
Monica
I slipped out of Troy’s apartment building wearing the same skirt from yesterday and a white button-down he lent me. No one at the front desk seemed to bat an eye as I walked out of the glass doors and out onto the sidewalk. They had seen me enough over the past few weeks to know I was his assistant. Thankfully, it was a different front desk woman and doorman than the ones who had let us in last night. For all any of them knew, we had a late-night meeting or an early morning meeting.
Out on the sidewalk, I glanced up at the glass building as if somehow, I could see Troy, who was probably still in bed where I left him naked in the sheets. I shook my head and let out a soft laugh, realizing how bad I had it for him. It was ridiculous.
I stepped to the curb and held my hand up, hailing a yellow cab. As I slid into the backseat, I gave the driver my address and leaned my head back against the seat. I closed my eyes and couldn’t fight the smile that crept over my face.
Everything about last night had been unexpected, but in the best way. Besides almost being caught by the night crew. But ultimately, him showing up had led me back to Troy’s apartment where we carried on the rest of the night entangled in each other. I wondered if we had slept at all. Maybe I had dreamed some of it, but the way my body felt convinced me none of it was a dream.
A little sore. Mostly satisfied. Begging for more.
I couldn’t help but feel giddy knowing I would see him in an hour. I could have slept in, and having his arms around me, I almost let myself doze off again. His steady breathing was like a sound machine putting me to sleep. His naked body, on the other hand, was like an alarm clock blaring in my ears.
I forced myself to get out of bed, even after he grabbed my hand and pulled me back in. I didn’t want to be late, even though I knew I could have gotten away with it. It didn’t feel right to abuse the relationship, or whatever it was, with my boss. I still wanted to remain professional, even though there was nothing professional about us.
Nothing professional about the way he tasted his fingers after they had been inside me, his piercing eyes watching my reaction as my mouth fell open. God, he was sexy. I squirmed slightly in the back of the cab at the thought. My eyes shot open and I sat up straight, trying to get a grip.
Once I arrived home to my small apartment, which was probably the size of Troy’s bedroom, I turned on the shower. Under the hot water, I washed away the smell of his cologne and salty sweat. But I couldn’t wash away the places he had touched me. His hands and mouth had left permanent, invisible impressions all over my skin. I doubted I would ever not feel him.
I doubted I would ever not want to feel him.
Out of the shower, I made a pot of coffee while wrapped in a towel. My hair was wet and hanging loosely over my shoulders. I didn’t have time to dry it, but that was fine. If it came between more time in Troy’s bed or finagling a blow dryer, I would choose the former over again.
My phone pinged on the countertop beside me as I waited for my coffee to finish brewing. I picked up my phone and smiled as I saw Troy’s name on the screen.
Troy: I’m probably going to be late today.
Me: Tsk Tsk. How unprofessional.
Troy: It’s not my fault. Someone kept me up all night.
Me: Hmm. I wonder who that could be.
Troy: Show me.
I read the words again and looked down at the pink terrycloth towel. It wasn’t La Perla, but it would have to do. I held up the phone and snapped a photo, hoping he found my makeup-free, wet dog look sexy. I hit send .
Troy: Fuck. Can you come back here?
Me: Down, boy. Are you still in bed?
Troy: I can’t seem to get out of it. Are you sure you can’t come back? Call in sick with your boss. In fact, I think he’s sick too. Cough cough.
Me: My boss has a very important meeting in two hours. He can’t miss it.
I watched the three dots bounce on the phone.
Troy: I’m up. I’m up. Christ, I forgot.
Me: What would you do without me?
Troy: Get more sleep.
I laughed before typing out a response: See you soon.
I poured a mug of coffee and took the steaming cup to my bathroom to finish getting ready. I applied the basics. Concealer, blush, mascara. Then I pulled my wet hair into a low bun. In my closet, I picked out a matching white set from La Perla and put on the cream skirt suit from my very first day at work. Satisfied with what I saw in the mirror, I drank the last of my coffee and headed downstairs to get a cab to work.
A few minutes after nine, I arrived with an iced Americano in hand, shocked that I hadn’t been any later. Kathy gave me a small nod of acknowledgment as I walked past her, and for some reason I felt like she knew the reason I was late. I knew I was being paranoid. I looked up and spotted the security cameras that I was so blissfully unaware of last night and swallowed hard. I would have to ask Troy about those.
I walked into his office and set his coffee on the coaster. I looked around quickly to make sure there was no evidence from last night, but there was nothing other than the memories in my head. I ran my hand over the glossy finish of his desk, biting my lip.
It was like I could hear his low groan in my ears. Feel his fingers eagerly exploring.
“Good morning, Monica,” said Kathy, breaking me from my thoughts. My cheeks blazed as I turned around to find her standing in the doorway eyeing me curiously.
“Good morning, Kathy,” I said. “Just dropping off Troy’s coffee.”
“I see he’s late. Again.”
“Mmm.”
“Big meeting today,” she said, rapping her knuckles on the doorway before walking out of it.
I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding and followed her out the door, taking a seat at my desk across the way. I opened my emails and found one from Troy with his usual list of things to do for the day. I looked for an innuendo or a flirty signature, but there was none. I felt stupid for the disappointment that pulled at my heart. But then I realized our emails were probably monitored. He was just being smart. He was a businessman after all.
A businessman who had done this before with another personal assistant, if not more than one, I reminded myself. The thought gnawed at me annoyingly. I shook my head slightly as I tried to convince myself I wasn’t like the others. But wasn’t that what every girl told herself? I couldn’t help but believe it. Our chemistry. The way our bodies moved as one. It was too good that it had to be more than me just being another personal assistant passing through.
A few minutes later, Troy strode into his office and I felt my stomach do a somersault. He was here earlier than I expected. I sat up straighter in my chair and pretended not to notice, but I felt his eyes on me. I didn’t dare look up, thinking I might spontaneously combust right there from the heat of his stare.
My phone pinged on the desk.
Troy: Playing shy, are we?
I bit back a smile and typed out a quick response.
Me: I’m working. You know, it’s a thing people do sometimes when they’re not sleeping in.
Troy: You’re feisty.
Me: You have no idea.
Troy: I think I do after last night. And this morning.
I sunk a little further in my chair, using my computer as a way to cover the burning of my cheeks that matched the heat rising through my body. I swore I heard him chuckle from his office.
This is different, I told myself.
And I kept telling myself that over the next two weeks, as we spent practically every waking hour together. I went wherever he needed me to, for business or pleasure. I didn’t care that I was at his beck and call. That was the job. The rest of it was just a perk.
There were hardly any more menial errands. I had been to the dry cleaners maybe one time. I didn’t have to trail any imaginary clients trying to get a signature for a made-up document. Troy wanted me with him, and I wanted him to want that. Because I wanted to be with him. I craved it. Almost obsessed over it.
We went on long, expensive lunches and indulged in champagne, careful to keep our distance just in case someone were to see. But under the table, we always found a way to touch each other, whether with my ankle sliding up his leg or my hand grazing his thigh. It was thrilling to pretend, when the sensation of his touch made me want to tear out of my skin.
Our car rides together were less restrained in the bit of privacy we found in the backseat of a cab. His hand wouldn’t stop at a simple graze of my thigh. Instead, his fingers would trail up my leg until he reached what he sought most. He liked to feel what I had on, knowing he would take it off later. I never wore pants anymore because of it, and sometimes didn’t wear anything underneath at all. Usually, on those days we didn’t make it back to the office.
We would work late in his office—actually work. We weren’t just having sex the entire time. We had jobs to do. Plus, we didn’t want to risk getting caught when we had come so close last time with the night crew.
But focusing on work was hard. I would often find his gaze on my mouth or my cleavage, and the heat from his stare was enough to melt me right there. Which was why most nights I ended up at his place to find the release we craved after a day of foreplay. No one batted an eye if I showed up at his apartment at 10 p.m. to bring him a report. And the changing of shifts left the morning shift none the wiser as I slipped out.
It was almost perfect, except for the part that I doubted I was anything more than his plaything. Even worse, that I was being paid to be. Sometimes I felt ashamed. As fun as sneaking around was, part of me felt dirty about it. If anyone found out about us, it would be chaos. I would lose my job, lose the man, and lose my dignity. But I couldn’t stop.
The feelings I had when I was with him, whether next to him at a meeting listening to his authoritative voice make decisions and demands, or in his bed as he hovered over me, planting kisses on my collarbone before taking me completely, they were too good to let go.
It was as if one of my novels had come to life and I now knew what it felt like to be completely consumed by somebody. It was no wonder readers ate those books up. It was something they desperately wanted. I didn’t know it could exist outside of the pages of a book. And it was something I now had.