Chapter 31
Rosie
I’ve avoided Niki for a few days, which is hard to do as his assistant. He’s stood by my desk several times, but I’ve kept it professional.
I punished myself by scrolling photos online of him and Clara again.
There are more photos of them resembling a Hollywood couple than I have of Tabi, and I have billions of pictures of her.
I trace one of Niki from two years ago. He’s holding hands with Clara on a yacht.
His head is back, and he’s laughing. It’s a Niki I don’t recognise.
He’s happy with me and Graham, but this is a worry-free Niki.
Maybe he’ll be this person again. I want that for him, even though this Niki wouldn’t look twice at me, and he wouldn’t have kissed me in Greece.
Would that Niki have sweetly asked to hold my hand and told me his struggles? I touch the chain around my neck and remember his growl when he caught me doing it.
I want the Niki sitting in his office—the fighter with a cinnamon roll centre—but one day, he’ll return to who he was or a version of him.
I sigh.
“Rosie, can you come in here?” he says.
I fumble with my mouse, closing all applications before rushing into his office.
He stares at my collar. I’ve left the chain out.
He licks his lips slowly, and I feel his tongue caressing my skin. I tuck the chain under my top and shove my fists in my hoodie pocket. My face burns.
“Rosie, are you okay? Are you ill?”
I fix his stare, expecting him to look panicked, but he’s smirking. He can’t know what I’m thinking. He can’t care.
“Yes, fine. I drank a very hot coffee.” Three hours ago. “We need to chat.”
He leans back and threads his fingers behind his head. “About?”
“I’m sorry for how I was with your parents. I wasn’t expecting to—”
His eyes soften as he beckons me to sit with a curled finger. I resist the temptation to call him sir because it will destroy me when the man who used to date models won’t notice.
I wriggle in the chair to get comfortable, and he waits patiently.
“I’m sorry, Rosie. Dad has no sense, especially when speaking with women.
He was the boss in a male-dominated industry and believes he knows best about everything.
Senna’s challenged him, but I’ve let him walk over me for a while.
According to my counsellor, the man he talked about doesn’t exist and probably won’t again. ”
I nod, unsure what to say.
“I’m particularly sorry for what he said about you.
You’re the best assistant I could’ve asked for.
I admire you for your capabilities and achievements.
When I look at you, I…” Niki’s brow furrows, and he meets my confused stare.
“The days you came into my life, both in Greece and here, were the luckiest days of my life. Knowing you’re here for me and helping me gets me through.
I explained that to my parents as best I could.
I wanted to tell them how incredible you are with your daughter and what you’ve battled, but that’s not my place. ”
Niki sees my value as an assistant while also recognising I’m a mum. I want to cover him with kisses, but all I can offer him is my genuine thanks.
“Do you want to talk further about this?”
I shake my head.
“You can talk to me about anything, whether it’s my mistakes or something related to Tabi or what you watched on television last night. I’m here for you and to help you however you need.”
I bet Niki Coulter could give me the orgasm no man ever has, but those aren’t the needs he’s referring to. Fuck my brain going straight to that.
“Yes, sir,” I reply with a smile that has him shifting in his seat and swallowing slowly.
I curse myself for turning his sweet sentiment into something cheeky, but the guy is wearing his tight T-shirt and black jeans.
He’s a living, breathing thirst trap. He can turn my underwear to dust with one naughty side-eye.
“Indeed.” He clears his throat noisily.
I want to make him squirm again. From how he’s managed our touches and the boundaries he sets in place with everything he does, I suspect intimacy for Niki means taking control, and I want that from him.
That and the way he stares at me, full of desire, when I call him sir adds to my boss fantasies.
“Next Wednesday, once I’m back from Miami, it’s G Day. Graham Day,” he qualifies. “Are we all set?”
“Yes.” I use my fingers to tick things off. “We’ve got toys, bed, bowls, leads, paperwork—”
“Bandana,” he says, waving the one that’s sat on his desk since the awkward moment with his parents. “Which was the sweetest gift I’ve ever received.”
I smile. “Bandana. And it was for Graham, not you.”
“It was for me, really.” He puts it around his neck and strides around the office. “It suits me. Do I resemble the kind of hipster guy you’d let chat you up?”
I try to grab the bandana, but he ducks out of my way. “People my age don’t say hipster. And maybe I don’t want a man my age.”
“No?” He stands still and locks my stare.
“No. Maybe I want an older man who…” I press a fist to my mouth to stop from saying that I want an older man who bosses me around and tells me what to do in bed, but words flow out of me anyway.
“I just don’t like guys my age. It must be my praise authority kink.
” I force a laugh, but it comes out as a squeak.
Niki’s eyes don’t leave mine. It’s like he can read every filthy thought I have about him.
I whip the bandana off him and rush away. Change the subject. Say anything. “Your hair has grown long. Shall I organise someone to cut it for you?”
He returns to his chair, rubbing the curls peeking from under his cap. “I don’t want anyone to see my scars,” he stammers, “and I wouldn’t cope with a stranger touching me.”
“I could cut it.”
“Really?”
I force a smile. I can’t cope with that level of intimacy, but I can’t refuse now. “I always cut Tabi’s hair. We couldn’t afford a hairdresser, and with messy curls like hers, it’s not like I can go wrong.”
“You can’t go wrong with me either.”
If only that meant what I wanted it to mean. The “feckless playboy” would be unimpressed with my lack of experience.
“You could cut it next week on the morning of G Day at my house so I’m my best for Graham’s arrival.”
I nod and start to leave.
“And one other thing,” he says. He does this every time I’m about to leave his office. I dream it’s because he doesn’t want me to go, but I suspect it’s because I chatter so much he can’t remember everything he needs to tell me.
“Do you want to watch me drive tomorrow? My sister feels guilty for bringing my parents in. She’s planned a fun racing activity for Jacs, Connor, Tawny, and me at the aerodrome before we fly to Miami. We organised for daytime rather than evening so you could come. What do you think?”
“I can’t wait.”
“And if you’re lucky, I’ll let you sit in the car with me and rest your hand on my thigh,” he says with a smirk, and my insides scream with hope as I demand they shut the hell up.