7. Dot
DOT
After over two years of working for this man, I know I should do better than quitting on the spot via an email. Even if he’s been a pain in the butt to work for, he deserves a normal two weeks’ notice.
But I can’t do that. So I hit send on my resignation email, with the words effective immediately included.
I just can’t imagine going into work again tomorrow after all of this.
I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I didn’t put all of this together until after we already had sex.
I should have been more careful when sharing those photos, and then they never would have ended up in William’s hands to begin with.
He thought I was trading favors. He thought I was saying “Here you go. Have my body in exchange for legal representation.”
Not that he had any real attraction to me. No romantic feelings towards me.
My crush never really ended, did it? I convinced myself I was past my feelings for my boss, but really I was just suppressing them. As soon as that man put his hands on me, my brain scrambled and I melted beneath him like butter.
I don’t know what he must think of me now.
And honestly? I’m not sure I know what to think of him, either. If he really thought that me sending him nudes to repay the favor was okay…
I never thought of William as that kind of guy before, I guess. He’s always been a grump. A perfectionist with a tendency to be condescending and gruff. But he’s never been a perv. He’s always treated me with professionalism and respect.
But then, he thought I was the one coming onto him, didn’t he? So maybe I’m being unfair to him.
I am so mixed up, I don’t even know what to think. All I know is that I cannot work for him anymore. Not for one more day.
My savings will hold me over for a while, until I find a new nine to five job. But it kills me that this means I probably have to start over, using the savings to pay my bills that was meant to help me expand my studio and buy more equipment.
My phone dings and I look at it with a mixture of excitement and dread. Any minute now, I’m guessing I’ll get a text or a call from William, some response to the email I just sent with trembling thumbs. But instead it’s a text from my newest client, Amy.
“Looking forward to the shoot later! Question: Should I curl my hair or leave it straight?”
Oh, crap. In all of the chaos of today, I forgot I’ve got a client coming into the studio today. I shoot her a reply, telling her to do whatever she wants to her hair. I’ve got a dressing table at the studio and we can always change things up as we go.
Then I rise, wash the streaky makeup off my face, and throw my shoulders back.
Maybe I’ve messed up my job at William’s law firm. But that job was never my dream, anyway. Photography is what makes my heart full. And I’m not going to let this horrible day ruin a photoshoot. Amy is counting on me.
“Thank you so much. I was so nervous when I came in but after a couple of minutes, I was comfortable right away!”
“I’m so glad you had a good experience,” I beam at Amy. “It’s hard, taking your clothes off for a virtual stranger.”
“It’s hard taking my clothes off in front of anyone,” she shrugs. “Even my husband. He swears he loves me the way I am, but I still hide when I change my clothes.”
“But you’re giving him this gift?” I raise my brows. Amy booked the Anniversary Album shoot. Basically, a photoshoot in several outfits. I take the photos, make the prints, and assemble a sexy scrapbook for the client’s husband’s eyes only.
So far, there have been no complaints from the men in my clients’ lives. One said it was the best damn gift they’ve ever gotten.
Men who love their curvy women make my knees weak. I always feel a little bit of envy for my clients, even though I’m also happy for them. One day, maybe I’ll have a man in my life who adores me like that.
“This is a beautiful space, too,” Amy continues. “I love how you’ve got all the different rooms. It looks like a honeymoon suite.”
“That was the vibe we were going for,” I grin.
This studio is above my friend Katie’s plus-sized clothing boutique. Together, we make a good duo, sending each other business back and forth. They buy their outfits downstairs, then book a photoshoot upstairs. All of it caters to the needs of plus-sized women and their comfort levels.
My brother, Darren, owns the whole building. Right now, I don’t pay him any rent for the space. The perk of being related to the landlord. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to afford a place like this.
He gave me three months of free rent to help me get things off the ground and scale my business. Those three months are almost up, and I’m not ready. And now I don’t even have a day job to keep me afloat.
“This space used to be an apartment,” I explain. “So it has that at-home kind of vibe. Last week, one of my clients did a whole photoshoot in just the kitchen area. The theme was sexy baking. She made actual cookies in the oven and everything.”
“Oooh, that’s such a good idea,” Amy says. “Luke loves cookies.”
“Next time,” I promise.
“Maybe for a Valentine’s Day shoot?” she wonders, looking around the studio.
I try not to get too excited, but I can’t help it. Amy just finished one shoot, and she’s already wanting to schedule another? That’s amazing. If I could just get a little bit more business, I could make a full-time thing out of this.
“Thank you again,” Amy says after getting dressed. We’re standing by the door, preparing to lock up and go. “I…really needed this.”
“I did too,” I say honestly. “Now, go home and give your husband a strip tease! He wants to see you, Amy. Give him a show!”
“Ha. I’ll do my best!”
I wave goodbye and watch her walk to her car. As she gets into her car, another pulls into the mostly empty parking lot. I recognize it immediately as William’s.
“Shit,” I mutter, ducking back inside the studio and closing the door. I watch him through the window. Of course, he knows exactly where to find me…a minute later, he’s knocking on the door. Or maybe pounding on the door would be a more apt description.
“Let me in, Dorothy,” he shouts.
My original plan was to pretend I wasn’t in here. But him using my dumb government name sets me off.
“Don’t you dare call me Dorothy!” I snap, unable to help myself.
“Then let me in!” he growls, banging on the door with his fist again.
“Fine!”
I unlock the door and swing it open, glaring at him.
“What?”
“You’re not quitting.”
“Texas is an at-will employment state. I can quit whenever I want.”
“I know the law, thanks.”
I roll my eyes, retreating to the kitchen where there’s still a bit of coffee in the pot from earlier when Amy and I shared some. I pour myself a lukewarm cup, only to have something to do and some excuse to turn away from William.
Must. Not. Look. Directly. At. Him.
He’s too beautiful. And now I know exactly what’s been hiding underneath those professional clothes. I know the outline of his abs , the color of his nipples, and exactly how thick his male appendage is.
Things you shouldn’t know about your boss, in other words.
“How did you know where I’d be?” I ask him.
“You told me about your photography business when you explained what happened at the bar, remember? All I had to do was Google it and this studio location popped up,” he says. “By the way, did you know someone is leaving fake one-star reviews on your business page? There’s dozens.”
I groan, turning around but careful not to lift my eyes to his. I’m not sure what will happen if I allow myself to look into those pale blue eyes right now but I’m pretty sure it involves crying.
“Heather,” I mutter. “She’s been doing that for months.”
“Heather? As in the same woman who is pressing charges against you for the other night?”
“That’s the one.”
William paces, something he tends to do when he thinks. Then he pulls out his phone and hammers out a message to somebody before putting it back in his pocket.
I don’t know what that was all about. But when he turns back to me, I do it. I make the mistake of looking directly at him and oh, was it a mistake.
My brain immediately replays the scene from his office earlier. His powerful hands, his hips thrusting against me, his tongue on my breasts…
I don’t have to look in the mirror to know I’m turning red.
“I want to figure this out,” he says. “I considered referring you to someone else for a job, but that felt wrong. Like I was punishing you for my own sin.”
“What sin?”
“Crossing that professional boundary,” he says.
“I think we both did that, not just you,” I tell him.
“Yes. But I am your boss. Which makes it my responsibility,” he says. “But I don’t want you to quit, Dot. And I sure as hell don’t want to give you over to someone else. You’re too good at this and…I think I’ve fallen in love with you, too.”
“What?”
“Who did you take those photos for?” he asks me, his eyes fierce. “Who is he? A boyfriend?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I took them for myself. I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“But you said you didn’t mean to send those photos to me,” he replies. “They were meant for someone else. Who?”
William looks absolutely murderous right now. As though, if I gave him the name of a man right now, William would bolt out of the door in search for that man, ripping him apart for daring to be the object of my desire.
Could he really have such strong feelings? How long has he felt like this?
“The photos were supposed to be sent to my friend,” I say quickly. “My straight, female friend. She knew I was doing self-portraits and wanted to see how they turned out.”
William’s shoulders relax a little.
“So there’s no man?”
“Sadly, no,” I reply flatly. “There’s no man in my life. Hasn’t been one in quite a while. I’m not sure why you care, though. Since you’re always going on dates with that blonde.”
“What blonde?”
“You know. She came by the office a few times. I see her name on your calendar all of the time. I don’t know why you’re acting jealous that I might have sent my photos to a different man, when you’re clearly involved with someone else.”
William shakes his head, a small smile on his lips.
“Jessica is my sister,” he says.
I blink.
“Your sister? But she looks nothing like you!”
“Well, she’s not my biological sister. Or even my adoptive sister.
We were…in the same foster home at the same time, for a while.
She’s a few years older than me and when she turned eighteen and moved out, she stayed in touch with me.
Just checked on how I was doing from time to time.
She’s…the closest thing to any real family that I’ve got.
I make a point to see her whenever she’s passing through Wild Bronco. ”
“Oh,” I whisper, trying to absorb this information even though my brain has gone mushy with a mixture of embarrassment and need.
“Were you jealous?” William challenges me.
“No,” I say quickly.
“Did you know I’m an excellent lie detector, Dot?”
“So I’ve noticed,” I reply.
It’s true. One of William’s gifts as a lawyer is sniffing out dishonesty. Both in his own clients, and the other side. Rhonda, the paralegal, once accused him of having psychic abilities.
William pulls a chair out from the dining room table and gestures to it with one of those large hands.
“Why don’t we both sit down, and tell each other the truth? The whole truth.”