Chapter 17
Ellie
“Hey girl. Aren’t you at work? Is everything alright?” Rachel’s voice comes through the phone as I duck to snag my dress off the floor before scrambling to the door to close it before anyone in the hallway sees me like this.
Oh, you know, my boss just made me take off my clothes and then left me standing out in the open with hard nipples while I dripped down my leg. But you know how that goes.
“Yeah, everything is fine. Listen, my boss is in a mood, and he just sprung it on me that he needs me to work tonight. Is there any way you can watch Luca?” I ask.
“Of course,” she says, and there is hesitancy. I know better than to worry about it being because of Luca himself. Rachel never ducks out of spending time with him. So if I had to guess, she’s just worried about me.
“I’m worried about you,” she says a moment later.
“Don’t be worried about me,” I say with a forced smile, hoping she can hear it through the phone. At the same time, I’ve got her on speakerphone so I can set the phone on the desk while slipping back into my dress. “Work is going well. He just needs me to work overtime once in a while.”
“Hmm,” she says disapprovingly. “Well, I hope you’re being adequately compensated for it.”
If by compensated, she means he’s probably going to make me come more times in one hour than Dylan could do in the duration of our relationship, yes. I think it’s safe to say it’s adequate.
“I get bonuses,” I tell her. It’s a truth hidden in a lie.
“A little icing on the cake,” she says dryly. “That’s all fine and dandy except that he is still asking you to work these shifts without notice.”
“He’s a hotel tycoon,” I say as I struggle with the zipper on my dress. Getting it back up is a lot harder than tugging it down. I can’t believe I am defending him if I am being honest. Although I’m not really being honest right now. Sigh.
“Which is why he should be better at knowing his needs before he needs them. I get things come up, but I think the man can afford to give you some kind of headway. You have a kid, for Pete’s sake.”
Rachel isn’t wrong. Damien doesn’t seem to have any empathy for my single-mom life situation.
But at the end of the day, my problems are not his.
Unless you count my problem of needing to have an earth-shattering orgasm.
In that case, I think it’s stated in our contract that my problem is very much his problem.
A problem he has solutions for. Solutions I find myself in desperate need of right now.
“I just want to make sure you aren’t getting steamrolled, Ellie,” Rachel starts in, and I know where this is going. It’s the beginning of one of her big-sister lectures about–
“You need to make sure you are setting boundaries,” she says, and I literally mouth the words as she says them.
“I am…working on it,” I tell her with a grunt as I yank the zipper up my back to no avail. I don’t know how I got it on this morning, but right now, I am really struggling.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m organizing my desk,” I lie. “Moving things around the office. Which you need to see some time, by the way. It’s really gorgeous. Talk about compensation…”
“I mean, about boundaries. What are you doing to make sure your boss isn’t taking advantage of you?”
I’m wearing clothes that are impossible to get in and out of…
“Rache, it’s a new job. And it’s a demanding one. But it’s also in the field I have been aching to get back into ever since the whole Dylan fiasco. I’m sure the schedule will become more predictable over time. Right now we are still just trying to figure things out.”
I sit down in Damien’s desk chair and let out a defeated sigh. I’ve worked up a sweat trying to get this damn zipper back up, and I don’t think it’s going to budge, at least not without help, anyway.
“Alright, well I love you. And I will swing by and grab Luca later. Maybe we will take him to the Pizza Palace,” she says, and my heart sinks lower in my chest. Luca loves the Pizza Palace.
It’s a pizza bar where you build your own personal pan pizza and watch them fire it in the oven right in front of you.
There are also board games and yard games and fun drinks and music too.
It’s a place he always asks to go and only gets to if someone else is paying.
“That sounds perfect,” I tell her.
I end the call and press the heels of my hands to my eyes for a moment, fully aware I am probably ruining my makeup.
I understand where my sister is coming from.
These spur-of-the-moment night shifts are nearly impossible as a single mom.
It’s hard enough to find after-school care, and I don’t love having to ask my sister all the time, especially when she has enough problems of her own.
But soon, I will have more money. I will have enough to keep Luca and me afloat.
Enough that I can take him to Pizza Palace without blinking an eye.
Enough that I can offer to help Rachel and Chance with their parenthood journey.
“Trouble in paradise?” Jocelyn’s voice comes through the door that is apparently open again, and I startle.
“More like a wardrobe malfunction,” I mutter, suddenly feeling weird that I am just sitting in Damien’s office at his desk. I stand up and turn my back to her.
“I can help with that,” she says, her heels clicking across the floor as she makes her way over to me. “How did your dress get unzipped anyway?”
“Oh, I was trying to fix my bra and–” I stop when Jocelyn gives me a knowing smile. I forget from time to time that a lot of people in this building know what my job really entails. It’s not really a secret around here, even if it is unheard of otherwise.
“So I take it you’re going to the Opal Room tonight,” she says, fixing a couple of my curls. She’s a pretty girl, in a sharp sort of way. Like she could be a model in one of those French ads where less is more. I personally have no idea what that’s like.
“As of ten minutes ago, it looks like that’s the plan.”
Jocelyn is still smiling as she looks me over.
I can’t figure out how to read this girl.
On the one hand, she’s been very sweet, despite our spicy first meeting.
And on the other hand, as a woman, I know never to fully let my guard down with another woman.
Over the years I’ve kind of learned to trust no one if I’m being honest.
“He does like to be spontaneous about things, doesn’t he? And at the very same time, he’s quite predictable,” she says, and before I can ask what she means by that, she goes on. “What are you going to wear?”
“Well. He insisted I wear red lingerie,” I say carefully. It feels weird even to be talking about this. I’m still trying to get used to it myself.
“Red, huh? He’s usually a black-lace kind of man. He must be in a good mood if he’s being adventurous.”
“Well, I mean, he saw it a few minutes ago and insis–”
“Let me see,” she says, and I stop. I’m sure I look like a deer caught in headlights, but in my defense, it’s not every day my co-worker, who I haven’t totally figured out, wants to see my underwear.
At the same time though, I am a bit nervous about tonight because Damien did just spring it on me with little to no warning.
And Jocelyn does know him better than I do.
I tug at my dress enough to reveal the cherry red bra and panty set, and Jocelyn bites her lip.
“What do you think?” I ask because there’s a hesitancy there. Not that I’m sure why I care.
“It’s hot…but you know what would make it hotter? Garters.”
“Really?” I ask.
“Oh absolutely. And taller heels. Really make those legs do all the work for you, girl. In fact…come with me.”
And before I can say anything else, she’s tugging me out the door.
We hop in the elevator, catching it just before it closes, and go down one level, to the same floor as my office is on.
On the opposite side is her office, apparently.
I’ve never seen it before. But as we walk inside, it’s like déjà vu.
It looks almost exactly like mine, from the fish tank to the corner position to the fur rugs and marble flooring.
And if I am being honest…I feel a small amount of resentment.
Maybe every office in the building is like this. Maybe mine isn’t special after all.
“Come here,” she says, pulling me towards the closet. She flips on the lights, revealing a wardrobe. It’s not much different from mine except that it’s more professional. A little less sex appeal. And a lot more pants.
“Wow,” I say as my eyes sweep over the racks and shelves and drawers. “Did he…buy all this for you?”
“No,” she says while tapping her finger on her chin as she debates shoes. “I bought all of it myself. But I keep everything here because my apartment is really small. This is like having a Dream Dollhouse closet, you know? Why not use it? Here, these are perfect.”
Jocelyn pulls a pair of black, shiny, strappy heels off the shelf and holds them out to me. They’re the right size, but that’s not what I’m worried about. They’re no less than four inches high.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I’m not sure they’re me.”
“They are not supposed to be you. They’re supposed to be him. And these are very Damien Graves.”
Still, I hesitate. “I’m worried I’m going to fall off of them…” I tell her, but Jocelyn’s lips just creep into a smile.
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’ll be spending most of the evening on your back, isn’t it?” she grins.