Chapter Twenty-Five
Elliot
I don’t want to leave Seraphine alone when I drop her off at her apartment later that night, but it’s best she has some space. If it were up to me, I’d take her to my house, shower her, and fuck her until neither of us can move.
But I realize today was a lot for her and that maybe I went overboard with what I said.
I’m not sure why I said those things. They just came out and it was what I needed to hear in the moment.
Rough sex has always been fun for me, and not that I’m into tying people up or using toys to spank them, I do like when things get passionate.
I like fucking hard, getting sweaty and dirty, and allowing my body to take over rather than thinking.
It’s a lot for some people though, and maybe I should have taken it easier on her. I just… couldn’t help myself.
Thankfully, she seems okay and stated she was. Still, I don’t want to pressure her or overwhelm her, so I dropped her off at home, made sure she got into the elevator, then drove off to head home myself.
Things between us could go one of two ways now.
She wants to continue with this.
Or she needs to end it.
It’s best she think about it now and figure it out before things get more serious and she regrets it. I understand being with my son previously puts both of us in an awkward situation, but really, why should that matter?
Their relationship is done. He cheated on her and ruined whatever it is they had. Even if their relationship was terrible, it isn’t an excuse to cheat. And he admitted to me that she hadn’t done the same, and I can’t imagine her doing something like that had he said something different.
Why does who she dates next matter? I will never understand how some men feel the need to hold claim to someone they are no longer with. One of those stupid bro-code things, like you can’t date someone your friend dated. Why the hell not?
Regardless of my opinion on it, I get it isn’t generally accepted, and most people would not approve if they found out.
Namely, my son, who has it in his head that he is going to win her back.
Seraphine has told me she doesn’t want to get back together with Harrison, but I understand she is still trying to get over what happened.
The only way he will understand is by Seraphine very clearly telling him.
I don’t think she’s there yet. Her confidence is growing, I see it getting stronger everyday, and today she even admitted it to me.
Told me it was because of me. That makes me so proud.
But I’ll feel even better when she is capable of speaking up for herself and telling my son how she feels without sugar-coating it or worrying about his feelings.
What about her feelings?
I only wish her father was still alive so she could tell him the same. Perhaps I should urge her to go to his grave and speak to him there. Or write him a letter. Though he will never know the true pain he caused her, at least she can get it off her chest.
My poor, sweet Seraphine has been through so much in just her short twenty-one years of life. Though thinking of her age should make me feel old, it doesn’t. She reminds me what it’s like to be young again. Carefree. Age is but a number.
When I get home, I shower and get into pajamas, then pull out my laptop to get some work done. I have proposals to look over, financial decisions to make, and Jonathan is requesting we get new equipment as some of what we have is out of date, as he put it.
I’m up late into the night, and only when my eyes start burning around two am, do I close my computer and head to bed.
Though I went to bed at the same time as I usually do, I wake up later than normal.
My alarm is set for six am, but I’m usually getting to the office at that time.
So, when it goes off, pulling me from sleep, I’m shocked.
As the CEO, of course I can do what I want.
Within reason, because I still need everyone in my company to respect me and their jobs.
My office hours are listed as eight to five, so going in early each day is something I do because I enjoy the quiet time, not because it’s expected of me.
Enjoying Seraphine’s body must have tired me out yesterday.
I shower and get dressed, choosing a slate grey suit that somehow looks more blue than grey. By the time I’ve gathered my things, it’s nearly seven. I’m bound to hit traffic at this point and may not make it to the office until eight.
I pull into the lot a few minutes before eight and make my way into the lobby.
“Good morning, Mr. Caldwell,” the security guard greets. “Late start this morning.”
I nod. “So it seems.”
The elevator is stuffed full when I reach it. I get a lot of smiles and good mornings from people I pass, as of course they all know who I am.
My company only uses up five of the seventy-three floors of this building, but I do own it.
Leasing the other floors is what helps keep my company afloat.
Not only do I make buildings for others, but I have plenty of my own throughout the city.
Most are residential, but I own some commercial ones as well.
This particular building houses quite a few law firms. A tech company takes up ten of my floors in this building.
There is a call center, a health research section, and plenty of other things.
I probably couldn’t even name them all. Still, most everyone who works in this building is aware I am here and knows my face.
If they didn’t, pressing the button for the 73rd floor and swiping my card sure tells them something.
“There’s one more,” someone from beside me says, reaching forward to hold their hand out to stop the doors from closing. “Wouldn’t want them to be late.”
I smile when I see Seraphine hurrying onto the car, her eyes widening when she sees me. Her lips form a smile.
“Good morning, Mr. Caldwell,” she says, turning to face the doors, and putting her ass right in front of me. I shift on my feet as my dick grows hard at just the thought of her luscious ass. I didn’t get a great view of that yesterday, but I sure hope she’ll let me.
“Good morning, Miss Sinclair. How was your weekend?”
She looks up at me over her shoulder, her eyes shining with humor.
“Wonderful. How was yours?”
“Exceptional,” I answer, wanting to grab her hair, yank her head back, and kiss her silly.
“Good to hear.”
She brings her attention to face the front again, and I can just about make out the smile on her face through the reflection in the shiny metal doors.
As the elevator stops on floors, people get off and shift around in the car. She eventually moves to my side. Soon enough, we’re the only two people on the elevator.
“Exceptional, hm?” she asks, looking up at me.
“Would you prefer extraordinary or phenomenal?”
“I’d prefer whichever is the truth.”
“All of the above.”
The elevator stops on the top floor, and when the doors open, I hold my hand out for her to go first.
Michelle looks up, seeing me trailing in after Seraphine, and quickly glances at my office.
“Mr. Caldwell,” she says. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Michelle.”
“Is everything okay, sir?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just wanted to make sure is all. You’re usually here by now.”
“Just had a busy weekend. Needed some extra sleep.”
“Of course.” She smiles and gets back to her work. Seraphine had continued on, and is likely waiting at my office door, since it’s locked and she doesn’t have a key.
I let us in, and quickly shut the door behind us, dropping my briefcase on the floor and cupping Seraphine’s face, pressing her to the door so I can kiss her.
“You drive me crazy,” I say against her lips.
She smiles, then presses a hand to my chest, pushing me away. She has hardly any strength behind her, but I step back because she wants me to.
“Can we talk?”
Her words catch me off guard, but it’s the look on her face that concerns me.
“Of course.”
I pick up my briefcase and bring it to my desk.
I lost myself and should have been in control.
Especially while at the office. Though things were said in the heat of the moment on the boat yesterday, it doesn’t mean she is okay with them actually happening.
Though I will do everything in my power to convince her so.
I go to the coffee station and start a pot of coffee.
Before Seraphine started working for me, I would use the single serve option, but now that we both drink it, this is easier.
I prepare each of our mugs, putting some of the caramel creamer she enjoys into hers.
When they’re filled, I bring them over to my desk and take a seat, sliding hers toward her.
I take a small sip, then place my cup down.
“What do we need to talk about?” I ask.
“I had a lot to think about last night.”
I nod, urging her to continue.
“I’m not sure what is going on with us, and not that it needs a label or anything, but I think it’s only fair that I get a handle on this stuff with Harrison before anything else happens.”
“That’s fair.”
“Is it?” she asks, as if she isn’t sure herself.
“It is.” I nod. “I understand why you would want to do that, but can I ask you something without you being offended?”
“Yes.”
“Are you prepared to handle that conversation with Harrison?”
She sighs, picking up her mug and holding it with two hands. She brings it to her mouth, blowing on it before taking a sip.
“I’m trying to be.”
“Regardless of us, you should have that conversation with him. I know my son. He’s relentless at times. If you don’t lay it out in black and white, he’ll find any chance he can to sneak in.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t like the way he talks to you.”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“Harrison speaks to you as if you are a piece of property to be owned. As if you don’t have a voice and never will. He isn’t giving you the opportunity to grow. It’s like he wants you quiet and compliant. He doesn’t want to hear no.”
“That sounds like Harrison,” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.
“Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing, Seraphine. You are doing so well in voicing your needs and wants. Don’t let him ruin that for you.”
She smiles, putting her coffee down. “I won’t. I promise.”
I nod. “When will you speak with him?”
“I’m going to dinner with him tonight.” The words fall from her mouth quickly, almost like she knew I would not be happy to hear it. I’m not.
I grit my molars, trying to keep my temper in check. Getting all caveman over her won’t help anything. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do something or can’t do something because of me.
“Good luck.”
She smiles, then it turns into a laugh.
“What are you laughing at?” I ask.
“Your mouth said good luck, but your face said something very different.”
“Oh? What did it say?” I ask, humored.
She leans back, crossing her legs. “That if he puts a hand on me, you’ll have something to say about it.”
I lean forward, speaking in a low tone. “If anyone puts a hand on you, I’ll have something to say about it. I will keep my hands to myself, for now. But that won’t last forever. Handle this situation with my son, so I can taste you again.”
Her cheeks go pink, and I sit back in my chair, imagining how sweet it’s going to be when she gets this handled and I can enjoy her spread out on my desk for lunch.