2. Parker Cain
2
PARKER CAIN
“Paarrrrkerrr…”
The saccharine sweet voice had a way of making my eye twitch and left me wanting to grind my teeth. Charlotte struck me as the type who’d discovered early on that men would do whatever she wanted if she used that high-pitched tone and batted her big eyes. It was a shame, because it undermined how intelligent and self-sufficient she really was.
“Still gay,” I reminded her in a matching high-pitched singsong voice. Her damsel-in-distress act wasn’t doing shit for me, and she knew it. I think she fell back on it out of habit.
A short woman in a pencil skirt and a fierce glare appeared in the open doorway of my office. I grinned at her, and she could only huff. “Could you do me a favor?” she asked in her normal voice.
“Is this a research favor, or an ask-the-boss-a-question favor?”
“The latter.”
My grin shifted into a sly smirk. “You know my price.”
Charlotte squeaked and did a triumphant bounce as she held up a small white paper bag with the logo for the nearby coffeeshop. “I got their last chocolate chip scone. ”
I nodded, and she hurried into my office to put the offering on the corner of my desk. “He asked me to do a cost analysis and projection for the large machinery division, but I forgot to ask him whether he wanted it for just our current raw material suppliers or if I should include industry-wide cost projections for the next year. Could you ask him for me?”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out the answer. Last week, I’d had to complete a similar report for the sportswear and leisure division. However, this was the first excuse I’d had to irritate the boss all day, and I didn’t want to pass it up. Not after the fun we’d had last night.
“Got it. I’ll go ask him when his assistant steps away for lunch.”
Charlotte’s hand shot out and squeezed my shoulder. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You’re a lifesaver.” Her problem solved, she hurried out of my office to her own office farther along the same hallway.
My gaze fell on the white bag holding the scone, and my smirk turned into a sigh. If I had known I’d be receiving offerings this often, I would have come up with something healthier. At this rate, I was spending extra time in the gym every day to work off the bonus calories. Of course, I hadn’t expected the entire finance department to be terrified of their boss.
But Declan Foster was a grumpy asshole, and I loved to fuck with him.
Not that either of us had ever expected me to be working under him one day. We’d met by chance almost a year ago at a bar. I’d hit on him because, come on, he was a golden brute of muscles and hotness. How could I not flirt with him?
Declan had brushed me off. I might have made a few snarky comments.
Ten minutes later, he was fucking my brains out in a bathroom stall.
I’d thought I’d gotten that kind of impulsive stupidity out of my system in college, but we all had moments of brain-dead horniness every once in a while. Declan and I parted ways, sure we’d never see each other again.
Wrong.
We’d stumbled across each other a month later at a different bar. That time all it had taken was a look, and we’d been in that bathroom, Declan giving me the best deep dicking of my life.
Since the sex was amazing and we wanted nothing else from each other, we’d come up with the agreement to meet once every other week for some hot, sweaty, mind-blowing sex. No strings attached. No personal connection. No expectations. We’d barely known more than each other’s names, and that had been just fine with me. With no rush to get into a long-term relationship, I’d appreciated getting railed out of existence once every two weeks. Sometimes, once a week. Win-fucking-win.
Except I’d taken a contract temp job with Courtland Enterprises and discovered that I was now under the illustrious and very taciturn Declan Foster, CFO of Courtland Enterprises. It had been one of his managers who’d hired me to fill in for a three-month period while two other full-time employees were out on maternity leave. Neither Declan nor I had known we’d be working together until I’d walked in that first day.
Declan had wanted to fire me on the spot, but I’d managed to sweet-talk my way in with the excuse that I wasn’t a real employee. Just a contract worker who would be gone in three months.
Now I had the chance to torment him throughout the week, which worked him up into such a frustrated froth that by our usual Sunday meeting, I got the fucking of a lifetime.
I glanced at the time on my monitor to find that it was after one in the afternoon. Mrs. Eleanor Turner would head out for her usual lunch any moment now, which meant there would be no one to block me from Declan’s office. He’d gained his assistant a few weeks ago, and I was starting to think he’d hired her so she could keep me from annoying him. So rude.
As I reached his office, I peeked inside to make sure he wasn’t on the phone or in a meeting before I knocked on the door. Declan lifted his gaze from the computer monitor, and I wasn’t sure if it was the silver-rimmed glasses catching the afternoon sun or the glare he leveled at me, but one of them made my evil little heart flip. I’d only ever seen him wear those glasses when he was working at his computer, and I suspected they were to help with eyestrain. Whatever the reason, they made the sexy man even hotter.
“I’ve got a question for you,” I announced as I strolled in. It was always a temptation to close the door behind me, but I suspected that move would get me kicked out of the office immediately, never giving me a chance to tease him.
“No.”
My grin spread and I dropped into one of the chairs in front of his desk, completely undeterred. “But you haven’t even heard my question yet.”
“No.”
“What kind of a supportive boss are you if you won’t let your poor, obedient drudge ask you a tiny question?”
Declan removed his glasses and placed them on the desk with a soft click. This allowed him to glare at me more forcefully with his beautiful, sky-blue eyes. “Why are you the only employee in my entire department who feels the need to come ask me questions?”
“Do you think it’s because I’m struggling to understand Courtland’s system?” I leaned forward so I could rest my elbows on his desk. “Do you think you could give me some hands-on training?”
Declan’s eyes widened, but there was no other indication that I’d scored a hit on him. But then, after nearly a year of learning to read all his tiny tells and subtle micro expressions, I was getting quite good at finding those vulnerable spots. Now that I’d learned how to turn him on, my newest goal was to push him to the point of demanding a spontaneous meeting outside of our usual weekend schedule.
“Impossible. Why don’t you make inquiries of your manager?”
“He’s not as knowledgeable as you.”
His gaze narrowed. “You come in here asking me questions you know the answers to.”
“Maybe I do that because I miss you.”
He didn’t even blink at that one.
“You have a barter system set up with countless Courtland employees where they bring you treats and iced coffee in exchange for you asking me questions.”
Ouch! Caught . I didn’t think he knew about that.
“And maybe asking you questions gives me a chance to torment you.” I dropped my voice to a rough whisper and rested my head against my hand. “The more worked up I can get you, the harder you fuck me later.”
Declan’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. Yeah, I was sure he knew that was exactly what I’d been doing, but I’d never said the words out loud.
“This needs to stop,” he ground out between his clenched teeth.
“And it will. In two weeks.”
That was it. There were only two weeks left on my contract, and I could return to my first love—art. I’d taken this job to pad my savings. Winter was fast approaching, and it was a quieter time in terms of commissions and new shows. Having some extra money socked away so I could work without worrying about paying my bills was always nice.
“Unless you offered me a full-time, permanent position here. Then I could come visit you all the time,” I teased.
“Not happening. ”
“We could spend our lunch hour together. Maybe lock the door and?—”
“No!” Declan snapped, showing his first spark of temper. He cleared his throat and sat back in his chair, his face flushed and his eyes wide, as if he couldn’t quite believe that his control had slipped.
A low chuckle tumbled from my throat, and I shook my head. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t accept a job offer from you even if you came crawling on your knees.” I stopped as that gorgeous image passed through my mind. Maybe I wouldn’t accept a job offer if he were on his knees, but I could think of other fun things I’d love to do to him.
The handsome man looked as though he wanted to throttle me, and I couldn’t blame him. Driving Declan Foster insane had become one of my favorite pastimes since I’d started working at Courtland Enterprises. It didn’t hurt that I’d been here through the debacle of Sebastian Courtland and his adorable assistant-turned-boyfriend. Not that I wished either of them any kind of ill will. But I thought it was even more tantalizing that the very proper Declan had his own dirty secret.
Of course, that secret was going to stay buried for both our sakes. In two weeks, I’d be gone and my access to Declan would be limited to our weekend fuck sessions, which was for the best. Part of me had begun to long for something a little more, and that just spelled trouble.
“However,” I drawled. “When my contract is up, I have one small wish.”
Declan didn’t so much as move a muscle or give any kind of hint that he wanted to know what my desire was. Naturally, I took that as a sign that he was eager to know what I was thinking.
“On my last day, I want you to bend me over your desk and fuck me.”
“Never. ”
I laughed, throwing my head back. That was a challenge if I’d ever heard one. “How can you say never? You know you want to.” I pushed to my feet and leaned forward while still holding on to the edge of the desk. “For all the times I’ve come in here to irritate you with questions. All the times I’ve made you hard while you sat at this desk, and you could do nothing about it. Don’t you want to make me pay for that? Press my face into your fucking planner and stuff my hole with your cock? Fuck me until your office is filled with my desperate begging.”
“Would you trade that for all our nights together at your place?”
I straightened and blinked at him. That was not the answer I’d expected from him. In fact, I’d expected another growled “no” or an order to get out.
“What?” I asked, still trying to wrap my brain around his question.
“If I fucked you here like you described, I’d never spend another night with you. I would end it.”
For a heartbeat, I thought about agreeing to his evil demand. One hot and crazy fuck here in his office sounded amazing. But reality set in and a fist closed around my heart, squeezing so hard I thought it would turn to dust. I didn’t want to contemplate how much I looked forward to our ridiculous meetings. We didn’t talk during the week other than to send the occasional text to adjust the time of our get-together or to cancel it, but when we were together, it was as if we were mutually exorcising all the stress, frustration, and pain we’d experienced while we were apart. It was more than simple sexual release. My nights with Declan were so cleansing. For days afterward, I felt like I could tackle anything and everything.
But to lose that…
I clenched my teeth and threw myself into the chair I’d exited seconds ago. “Hell, you’re mean.” I returned Declan’s glare with a scowl of my own, but he didn’t blink. “Fine. Whatever. You win. We’ll keep things the way they’ve always been.”
Declan didn’t smile, but I swore something shifted in his expression. Maybe a tiny lifting of his eyebrows. A new twinkle in his eye. The smug bastard just looked triumphant to me, and it made me want to throw his coffee in his face.
“What was your question?” Declan inquired after a full minute of silence.
“My what?”
Declan reached for his glasses, holding one arm pinched between his thumb and forefinger, but he didn’t put them on yet. “Your question. You said you had a question.”
“Oh, that!” A laugh bubbled up, but it sounded forced as I shoved to my feet. Something inside me still hadn’t shaken off the sudden fear of losing our “dates.” “I already know the answer to my question. I came in here to drive you crazy.” After a final wink and a reminder to eat his lunch, I sauntered out of his office, half expecting him to hurl a paperweight or a stapler at the back of my head.
It was going to be nice to not put on a suit every morning or deal with rush hour traffic after this contract was over, but part of me was going to miss irritating Declan Foster every chance I got. Maybe when this contract was finished, I’d ask if he wanted to have lunch once a month. Not a lunch fuck, but a real lunch in a restaurant surrounded by people. Those rare times I wasn’t intentionally driving him up a wall, we’d had some interesting conversations, and even his silence was calming and relaxing.
Nah. He’d never go for it.
As I left his office, my cell phone vibrated in my pocket. I snatched it up and glanced at the screen. A smile spread across my face and Declan’s grumpiness was forgotten in the promise of an unexpected chat with my best friend .
“Lovely Molly, what trouble are you getting into today?” I inquired the moment I answered the call.
“Is…is this Parker Cain?”
I jerked the phone away from my face to double-check the caller ID, even though it was unnecessary. I’d seen her name and the goofy picture I’d attached to her number before answering the call. Yet, the woman on the line was not Molly. She sounded older and her voice was ragged, as if she had a cold or was in some kind of trouble.
My heart leaped into my throat and I froze where I was in the center of the hallway. Something was very wrong. “This is Parker Cain. Who is this? Why do you have Molly’s phone?”
“This is Violet Robbins. I work with Molly at Longbourne. She mentioned you to me. As a friend. And I think you’re listed as her next of kin. I…” Her rambling stopped, but she’d failed to answer my most pressing question.
“What’s going on? Where’s Molly?”
“Molly…” She paused when her voice cracked. “Molly was involved in an accident this morning. She…she was hit by a car.”
“What?” The room spun, and I staggered to my left to catch myself on the wall. This couldn’t be right. Violet had to be talking about the wrong person. A different Molly. Definitely not my Molly.
“She was getting bagels for the team. A car ran a red light and hit her as she was crossing the street.”
“No.” The word got caught in my throat and turned into a whisper. I wanted to scream. Thankfully, the analytical side of my brain rallied and took control, despite my overwhelming desire to curl up in a ball. “What…what hospital was she taken to? Do you know what her status is? Has anyone talked to a doctor yet?”
“No. I…”
“Where is she? What hospital?” I repeated loudly and slowly .
“She’s gone. She died at the scene.”
My knees gave out, and I slid down the wall as my heart shattered. Not Molly. Not my Molly. How could I lose her like that?
How could she leave me?
And what about Joy?