38. Catriona
Thirty Eight
Catriona
“Sorry to interrupt!”
Rian stops mid-sentence as a tall brunette makes her way through the open office, waving at Orla before she reaches us.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she repeats, a big smile on her face as she stretches up and kisses Rian’s cheek. I would have been jealous if I hadn’t recognised her.
“What’s up, Rosie?” Rian grunts.
“Well, I was hoping to steal my brother for lunch.”
“You paying?” he deadpans.
“Hell no! I was just in Dad’s office trying to persuade him to increase my allowance, and until he does, you’ll be buying me lunch!
” Her pearly laugh is contagious, and both Gemma and Mona grin up at her, while Trevor seems starstruck by her dazzling persona.
I’ve been in Rosie’s presence a few times, but I’ve never spoken to her.
She has a carefree dizziness about her that makes her appear anchorless.
“You have us all wrapped around your finger, you know that?”
“Yes, I do.” Rosie tosses her thick dark hair over her shoulder and gives the rest of us an unapologetic shrug followed by that laugh.
“It appears we have to finish this update later,” Rian tells us with an exaggerated sigh. He’s done more of that lately – talking to us outside of his office instead of sitting behind his desk and pretending to be the big boss. “What do you need the money for anyway?” he adds.
“Oh! I’ve found the perfect dress for the spring barbeque, and I just have to have it!”
“Really?” Gemma chimes in, all excited. “What does it look like?”
“Well, it’s a knee-length dark yellow, almost amber-like Ralph Lauren dress with a lace top and a white belt,” Rosie explains, illustrating with lots of hand movements.
“I know the one you’re talking about,” Mona says eagerly. “I saw it featured on this blog I’m following. It’s stunning and it’ll be perfect for the barbeque.”
Rosie grabs Mona’s arm. “Aww, I wish Dad had the same sense as you! Are you all going to the barbeque?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Gemma exclaims, pressing her palm to her chest. “I haven’t decided what to wear, though. I was considering maybe wearing dressy trousers, but where’s the fun in that?”
“I agree,” Trevor interrupts. “I’ve considered not wearing trousers this year as well.”
“I dare you!” Rosie glances at him under long eyelashes and pushing his shoulder playfully.
The poor man blushes, yet I notice how he stands a bit taller and puffs up his chest. He’s finally taken the hint and stopped his relentless attempts to get me out on a date.
I don’t know what made him stop, but I also don’t care as long as he leaves me alone.
And by the look of things, he seems to have got over me pretty fast.
As the others continue their fashion banter, I feel out of place. I don’t usually pay much attention to fashion – what’s the point when I can’t afford it? I try to tell myself it doesn’t matter that I can’t participate in the conversation – I’m not going to the barbeque anyway.
“Miss Taylor.” Rian’s voice slices through my thoughts. “Let me give you the marketing file before I head out to pay for my sister’s lunch.”
“Certainly, sir.”
Following him into his office, I take in how stylish he is in his designer suit and shiny leather shoes.
What is he doing with me? He can have any woman much more fashionable than me.
He’s way out of my league. Would he ever acknowledge our relationship in public?
I’ve been just as willing as him to keep our affair under wraps, but at what point will it be appropriate to tell people?
Is there an end date for the secrecy? Or is the end date the same as the end date of our relationship?
Old doubts seep in through cracks in my confidence.
“What’s going on inside that big brain of yours, Ice Queen?”
Rian has stopped shifting through the papers on his desk and eyes me with brows drawn. I straighten and try to hide my emotions from my face. Before I can answer, however, Rosie sails giggling into the room.
“Ach, Ri, why aren’t you dating that Mona girl? She’s absolutely stunning! And funny too!”
My stomach drops. Rian casts a quick glance at me, then directs his attention back to the files on his desk and mumbles. “My dating life is none of your concern.”
“Well, Gemma is a dote too, but I think she’s a bit too lively for you,” Rosie continues, ignoring her brother’s words. Ignoring the fact that I’m in the room with them. Invisible.
“Rosie, I don’t get involved with your love life, so stay out of mine,” Rian growls. His jaw is clenched, but his sister only laughs.
“According to Dad, you’re dating just about any woman in the office, so why not Mona? It’s not like you’re with Alexandra or anything. Maybe,” she whispers, conspiratorially, “maybe if you were officially dating Mona, Alexandra would finally wake up and let you date her?”
Acid water is flowing through my veins, killing me from the inside.
“Miss Taylor!” Rian’s sharp voice hits me like a riding crop. His eyes are focused on me, dark, almost threatening. “I expect you to have the marketing budget updated by the time I’m back.”
His cold words have the expected effect. For the second time in only a couple of minutes, I straighten my back, lift my chin, and fix a cold stare at Rian.
“Consider it done, sir.” I grab the papers he’s handing me.
As I walk with purposeful strides out of the office, I notice Rosie’s eyebrows raise in surprise.
For the first time, I have her attention, and I’ve got a chip on my shoulder that’s going nowhere.
My mood is just as dark as my back is straight when Rian returns from lunch, and it hasn’t improved one bit when we’re having a meeting close to the end of the day.
“Just because I haven’t worked at some high-flying company in Malaysia or New York, it doesn’t mean that I don’t know how to set up a contract. The jewellery shop owners would like security and comfort, not big words and pushy upsells!” I snap.
Arrogance is oozing from Rian’s slouched body on the other side of the conference table. “Well, just because they’re small customers, it doesn’t mean that we can’t think big. We shouldn’t underestimate their potential. Isn’t it you who always tells me that I don’t value the small customers enough?”
Fuck him. I may be sleeping with my boss, but that doesn’t mean I have to roll over for him. And after the way Rosie ignored me earlier, I’m for sure not backing down.
“There’s a major difference between understanding their potential and overestimating—”
“Enough,” he barks. “You’re too stubborn to see sense, and it’s way past home time. Your colleagues would like to leave.”
I glance around the table and notice Gemma and Trevor observing us with amusement. We’ve been arguing for a while now. It’s probably time to end it. I bite back my reply that would prolong the meeting even more.
“Gemma, Trevor – go home.” Rian’s gaze zooms in on me. “Miss Taylor, you stay.” His voice drops. “I’m sure you don’t want an audience when I put you down.”
Something zaps and bursts low in my abs, and I instinctively clamp my legs together. That fecking bastard! How is it possible for a comment like that to have such an effect on my body?
“We’ll see who puts who down,” I reply with what I hope is a cold, even voice, although I know very well that he’ll be on top.
In charge.
Demanding.
Punishing.
The chip on my shoulder has done a very timely disappearing act. I shouldn’t succumb – I’m a disgrace to the female race – but I also have tingles all the way to my toes.
Gemma gives me a lopsided smile as they hurry to their feet, eager to leave.
With the soft click of the door closing behind them, the air thickens.
Rian’s eyes darken and awareness sizzles over my skin.
What’s his next move? His shirt stretches over his shoulders as he places both palms flat on the table and rises.
His size seems ominous to my seated form.
Slowly he walks around the conference table.
I jolt when he grips my shoulders. His warm breath fans down my neck.
“Don’t. Move.”
The dark timbre of his voice strums my core, and I still. His heat disappears and I hear him walk across the floor behind me to his desk, where he proceeds to make a phone call. It sounds like he’s chatting with one of his friends, just friendly banter.
Yet I don’t move.
He keeps me waiting.
I’m like a statue, back straight and arms resting in my lap, but with a ticking bomb at my core. My thighs are tense, desperate to seek relief for the growing need building between them.
It’s strange how different this is compared to when we’re at home in my or his apartment.
There it’s give and take, laughs, teasing and emotions.
Now, it’s role-play, where Rian is the director and I’m the understudy.
The dark and stern boss and the compliant employee.
It’s controlled and distant, and so intense I’m about to burst.
I don’t know which I prefer more, this intense role-play sex or the playful lovemaking. I hope I’ll never have to choose.
“I’ll try to make it…sure, see you then.”
Silence.
I fist the edge of my jacket in my lap. The anticipation is so thick that my head is spinning.
Silence.
Every breath is loud like thunder. My nipples scrape against my bra with every inhale.
Silence.
My thighs are clenched so tightly, I’ll be sore tomorrow.
The squeak of leather.
A drawer opening.
I struggle to take in air and sense his presence more than hear him. He appears in the corner of my eye as he opens the door and takes a step out into the open office, looking left and right. He locks the door. I stop breathing altogether.
He disappears from my view, behind me, but I feel the heat radiating off him.
“Catriona, Catriona, Catriona,” he says with a deep and deceptively soft tone. “You know what happens to naughty little girls, don’t you? Yet you just can’t help yourself.” I jostle as he pulls my chair out. “Stand up.”
And I do. Moving the chair away, he’s right behind me.