12. Cooper
TWELVE
Cooper
THREE HOURS EARLIER
I don’t know how long I stand in the boardroom, stuck in a trance of disbelief that she’s run, yet again . But by the time I snap myself out of it, I’m certain that she’s left. As I’m gathering the papers that have been strewn across the floor and table, a cough sounds from behind me.
Spinning on my heel, I come face to face with my father, a smirk on his face as he stands in the doorway.
“What are you doing here? Security shouldn’t have let you in.”
He walks further into the room, coming to stand next to me as I continue to collect the documents.
“I came to see if my son had come to his senses and it seems you have. Going by the smell of sex in here and the fact that I saw your assistant looking more than a little disheveled, I’m guessing you finally gave in and fucked her. ”
Clenching my fists I drag in a calming breath, gritting my teeth before responding to him. “Regardless of what may or may not have happened here, I told you not to come back. Why are you here?” I hiss.
“Come on, son…”
“As far as I’m concerned, I’m not your son. Now, please leave.”
Holding up his hands, he backs toward the door, a slimy smile spreading across his lips. “Just remember, you can fuck the girl but that’s it. She’s not Jackson-wife material.”
He barely finishes the sentence before I rush at him, grabbing his collar and pushing him against the wall. The soft thud of the back of his head hitting the plaster fills the room and mingles with my heavy uncontrolled breathing.
I’m so fucking mad.
Madder than I’ve ever been before.
We stare into each other’s eyes and I direct all of the hate and anger I have at him.
“Who I fuck, fall in love with, or even marry is none of your goddam business. I told you to get the fuck out and never come back. You should heed my warning, Elijah, ” I roar, certain that the vein in the side of my neck is about to burst.
Releasing his collar, I step back and watch as he straightens his appearance before walking out. He doesn’t utter a word, but the look on his face tells me I won’t be seeing him again.
Fuck.
I’m just like him, unable to keep my hands off of a woman that should be unattainable. I’m all the things I thought he was as I was growing up; weak, pathetic, a man with no morals.
This can’t keep happening, we… I can’t keep doing this back and forth.
Every time I say I won’t become my father, I do something that makes me just like him.
Like fucking my assistant on a conference room table.
Enough is enough. We need to talk about what is happening, agree to a plan and stick to it.
She can’t keep running from this.
From me.
More importantly, I need to stop losing control. I’m not a man that loses control easily, but with her I seem to have none.
Walking into my office, I make a beeline for my private bathroom—I need to prepare for the conversation I’m going to make her have with me tonight.
The lights glare down on me, showing my disheveled appearance, and I run my fingers through my hair in an attempt to smooth it out.
Pulling in a deep breath before releasing it in a slow exhale, I crack my neck and lean my hands on the counter. With my chin on my chest, I take a moment to just let my mind reset.
Come on Cooper, treat it like a court case.
Lifting my gaze, I look myself in the eye as I figure out what to say.
“Hi, are you okay? I don’t like that you keep running away from me. I enjoy having sex with you, but we can’t keep doing what we’re currently doing. Let’s go back to how it was before.”
It could use a little work.
Jesus, why does she have me so tied up?
“Hi, are you okay?”
This shouldn’t be this hard.
“I’m sorry, it shouldn’t have happened and…” No, that sounds like I regret it, which could not be further from the truth.
Let’s try this again … “Hi, are you okay? We should talk about what happened and get this sorted, once and for all.” Okay, this is a better start.
“I think we should agree on a plan to reduce the risk of us slipping up again, because we can’t continue like this. You’re my assistant and, as your boss, I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”
I think that’s a good foundation.
A good start, I can ad lib when I’m in front of her, see what she has to say.
One thing I know for certain is, this can’t wait for tomorrow and it needs to be somewhere she feels comfortable. I’m going to have to go to her home.
I won’t touch her.
Moving to my desk, I login and pull up her personnel file.
What’s crossing one more line?
Standing on the street outside Meghan’s apartment building, I take in its worn and unwelcoming appearance.
I don’t like that she lives in this neighborhood.
Literally anyone who lives in the New York area knows this isn’t the safest borough and I don’t like the thought of her living here by herself. All the buildings on this block look like they’ve seen better days and there are people loitering around, sitting on stoops looking shady.
As my eyes dart up and down the block, I vow not to have her working anymore late nights and, if we absolutely have to, I’ll be making sure she gets home safely.
It’s not my place to be this worried about her.
I’m just looking out for a valued employee. It’s not like I’m acting like her boyfriend. If I did, she’d be living in a nice apartment, somewhere safe.
What if she has a boyfriend?
I quickly get rid of that thought, because I know her well enough to know that she would have stopped whatever we are, if that were the case.
Satisfied that I’m not about to walk in on Meghan with a boyfriend, I look up at the building in front of me and count the windows until I see what I think is her apartment. The lights are off and I hope that she’s just in bed rather than not home—she should be back by now.
Nerves settle deep in the pit of my stomach as I contemplate whether I should have come or not. I’m not one for second guessing my actions—why would I when I can argue my way out of pretty much anything—but where she’s concerned, I don’t want to do anything to scare her away.
That realization has me questioning what I’m doing here, what my grand plan is once I get inside. Yes, I have an idea of what I want to say, but where is this going?
Taking a steading breath, I walk up to the front door and realize that I need to buzz her apartment and, given tonight's events, it’s highly unlikely that she’ll let me in.
Just as I’m contemplating my next move, an older woman comes struggling through the door pulling a cart, a lit cigarette clenched between her teeth.
She’s dressed in dark leggings with a Black Sabbath t-shirt that has multiple holes in it and a parka coat.
She smells like a wet dog, and I try not to retch as the overwhelming odor travels up my nose.
Taking this as my way in, I hold the door open for her with what I hope is a smile, but could very well be a grimace on my face.
“Thanks, doll,” she rasps, pulling her cigarette from her mouth and glancing up at me, baring her yellow teeth in a smile.
I nod in response while holding my breath, so I don’t throw up, and slip through the door, making my way to the elevator. An out-of-order sign greets me, so I redirect to the stairs and climb up to the second floor, a sense of urgency taking over me.
Before I know it, I'm standing outside Meghan’s apartment door and taking a deep breath as I raise my hand to knock before resting my hands on either side of the door.
“Alex, I’m going to bed soon…” she announces as she throws the door open, her words trailing off as her wide eyes lift to mine.
Who the fuck is Alex?
I grind my teeth and clench my fists in… anger. It takes all of ten seconds for me to remember her friend… a girl… who works for my firm.
Alex.
Breathe Cooper.
Relaxing my jaw and unclenching my fists, I look at Meghan as I push away from the doorjamb. My eyes roam over her from head to toe. I’ve never seen her look more alluring.
She’s wearing short, skin-tight cotton baby pink shorts.
They hug the curve of her hips and I’m sure if she turned around, the bottom of her ass cheeks would be on display for me.
She’s paired the shorts with a camisole top similar to the one she had on earlier, and with no bra on, I can see her nipples poking through.
Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head in some sort of messy bun, her face is free of make-up and a pair of glasses are perched on her nose. She has a bowl of ice cream in her hand and it’s swimming in some brown liquid that smells a lot like whiskey.
I won’t be able to look at her in the office without picturing her like this.
To my surprise, she doesn’t immediately try to shut the door in my face. Instead, she stares up at me, her mouth slightly agape. If she didn’t blink, I’d think she was a statue. Shaking her head, she seems to come out of whatever trance she’s in.
“Do you always answer the door dressed like that?” I admonish her.
She looks at me with confusion painted across her beautiful face. “What do you mean? Like what?”
I gesture with my hand to her body. “In your underwear.”
She glares at me as she folds an arm under her chest, giving me a perfect view of her ample cleavage. “These are my PJ’s.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t even look through the peephole.”
“Why are you here, Mr. Jackson?” She asks, looking away sheepishly.
I was right, dammit.
Why isn’t she looking out for herself?
“Cooper. My name is Cooper, Meghan. You were moaning it not that long ago,” I remind her. For Christ’s sake, she was crying it out, telling me she belonged to me, not even two hours ago.
“Why are you here... Cooper ?”
It’s better, but I still don’t like the tone. It’s nothing like when she was in the throes of passion and begging me to make her come .
“I wanted to see you… to apologize and make sure you were okay.” It’s not really a lie, but it’s also not entirely the truth.
Yes, I’m sorry that she felt it shouldn’t have happened, but I’m not sorry that it did.
“You don’t need to apologize. I could have stopped you if I wanted to,” she responds, her teeth dragging over her bottom lip. She lifts her heavy eyes to mine, and I’m a goner.
She’s my kryptonite and everything I wanted to say goes out the window.
Stepping into her apartment, forcing her to move away from the door, I take her face between my hands. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t push me away either. Instead, she places the bowl on the table next to the door and grabs onto the lapels of my coat.
Capturing her lips with mine, I back her further into the apartment, kicking the door closed behind me.
Meghan is curled up next to me with her head on my shoulder and one palm resting on my bare chest. The sheet is draped over my lower half, barely covering her curvy ass, and she has a leg resting over my thigh as she snores softly.
She dozed off almost immediately after we both came and I’m thinking that might be her ‘thing’.
The room is shrouded in darkness, even with the curtains open but a slither of light from the street lights beams across her smooth skin and her golden locks, which are spread out over the pillow.
As I lay awake, my hand smoothing over the soft skin of her hip, a thought occurs to me: I could get used to this .
Her warm and soft body curved into the side of mine, with her scent all around me and her taste lingering on my tongue. It’s what dreams are made of. She feels a lot like home and it dawns on me that I could fall for her—like really fall for her.
As that thought flits through my mind, another comes to the forefront; I need to leave. I shouldn’t have kissed her again. Or fucked her again .
What is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have come here.
I shouldn’t have chased after her.
I shouldn’t be seeing her as anything other than my assistant.
This thing between us—whatever it is—it can’t go anywhere.
No.
It won’t go anywhere. I won’t allow it .
I’m not capable of giving her everything she wants, needs or deserves. I’m just like my father and too committed to my job.
I need to leave .
As I ease Meghan off of me, she stirs, her lashes fluttering as she wakes, revealing dazzling but slightly confused green eyes.
“Where are you going?” she asks. Her voice is husky as she rubs at her eyes to remove the heaviness of sleep before sitting up in bed, pulling the sheet with her.
“I’m heading home.”
Her eyes coast over me as I pull on my clothes and she lifts her hand to her lips before she speaks. “Oh, okay.” She looks lost and confused and all I want to do is climb under the covers, pull her into my arms and wipe that look from her face.
Turning away, I pull my pants up as I push through with what needs to be done. “Look, thanks for today. You were great, as usual.”
She huffs out a laugh of disbelief, turning her gaze toward the window, and I close my eyes as I realize how my words could be taken. It’s for the best that she’s misunderstood me. Maybe this is what we need to resist each other.
“I think it’s best that this stops here, before one of us…” I stop to look at her, the sheet clutched to her chest, and her chin held high—she’s fucking stunning. “Forgets this is only sex.”
Before I forget .
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the taste of her or having my nose buried in the curve of her neck as I breathe in her unique scent—honey and vanilla.
Fully dressed, I walk to the door, before turning to face her. I take one last mental picture. God, she’s beautiful .
“I’ll see you in the office tomorrow.” I walk from the room, internally screaming at myself to turn the fuck around .
I don’t stop until I get back to my quiet and cold penthouse.
Heading to my bedroom, I change into my workout clothes before making my way to the gym I have set up in one of my many spare rooms. Loading up a playlist on the surround sound system, I press shuffle and the sound of Stronger by Kanye West blasts through.
On a bench with a set of dumbbells, I start a workout, pushing myself to the limit.
I need a distraction and to detox Meghan from my thoughts.