Chapter 25 Margot
Margot
The following week brings a new set of challenges.
For one thing, we’ve almost been busted—twice. Once stealing a quick kiss in the elevator on Tuesday morning, and again in the stairwell yesterday afternoon.
Okay, so that one was more of a full-on make out session.
Apparently, we’ve forgotten how to act like coworkers after an entire weekend of not keeping our hands to ourselves.
Then there’s the other challenge: dealing with the complex emotions I’m feeling over my promotion.
It hasn’t happened yet. The board meets next week, and Ethan has no doubts they’ll vote in my favor.
After that, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be his assistant.
Maybe a few days, maybe a few weeks while he searches for a replacement.
Obviously, I’m thrilled to get a promotion. I love this company and my job. I also love the idea of a little extra padding in my monthly budget. I want to grow professionally and take on new challenges.
But it also feels like the end of an era.
For as long as I’ve worked for True North, I’ve worked under Ethan.
We’ve found our rhythm and build our foundation in this space.
Meetings that turned into late nights. Late nights that turned into…
well, me getting drunk and having to spend the weekend recovering at his house, which led to a whole lot more.
It's a bittersweet ending to our professional relationship and the start of something new for us.
When I arrive at the office on Friday morning, I set my purse down on my desk and head straight into Ethan’s office for a quick meeting. His eyes flick up from his computer then freeze on me.
“Jesus, Margot, what is that?” His gaze rakes slowly down my body.
I follow his stare, wondering if I have a big coffee stain or ink smudge on my dress, but find nothing out of place. Furrowing my brow, I glance back up at Ethan. “It’s just a dress…?”
Ethan admires me as if I’ve just flounced into his office in a lace negligee instead of a relatively modest red shift dress.
It has a high neckline, cap sleeves, and a hem that grazes my knee.
The only thing remotely salacious about it is the color, which is a little bolder than the clothing that I normally wear to the office.
Still, it doesn’t hold a candle to the skin-tight athleisure wear that some of the women wear around here.
Ethan’s chair creaks as he leans back, still watching me as if he is considering ripping the dress off entirely and bending me over the desk that separates us.
“It reminds me of the dress you wore on our first date.” His voice is a low simmer that I feel between my legs.
I pause, tilting my head to one side as I try to recall our first date.
“The night your ex showed up, and I used it as an excuse to kiss you,” Ethan reminds me.
Heat climbs my neck as the memory hits, dragging a smile out of me. I do my best impression of a normal, fully professional human being. But honestly? We’re one supply closet tryst away from landing in HR’s office.
“That was a fake date, and this is a perfectly modest dress.”
Ethan smirks. “There was nothing fake about that date or that kiss.”
In retrospect, I know he’s right. We were fooling ourselves back then.
I take a seat in the chair across from Ethan, ready for our morning meeting, but he seems to have other ideas.
“Let’s cut out early today and go to Aspen for the weekend.”
I roll my eyes, sure that he’s kidding. “It’s Labor Day weekend, Ethan. I’m sure every hotel in Aspen is booked up.”
“Good thing I own a house there then.”
“You do?”.
I obviously know that Ethan is rich, but the real estate market in Aspen is no joke. Even a modest home costs about five million dollars, and the mega mansions will set you back a nauseating eight figures.
“Well, technically I co-own a place with my brother. Garrett uses it more than I do, mostly for ski trips in the winter. It’s just a small cabin, but it’s private and secluded.”
Translation: lots of sex, and zero chance of running into any of his previous hook ups. The latter part bothers me less than Ethan probably thinks. He’s always been upfront about his past, and he’s never pretended to be a saint. As long as he’s honest with me, I can handle the rest.
But I’m certainly not going to turn down three days in Aspen with him.
“Alright, let’s go to Aspen,” I say with a smile.