Chapter 14
Chester
I knew I had to keep my cool. I had just explained to Juliet that in this office we are different people than we were last night.
We were back to me being her boss, and her being my employee.
But the way that black dress hugged her body had me practically choking on my words.
I imagined the ways I could take it off, or leave it on, hiking it up around the curve of her hips and easily finding my way into her again.
I ran my hand through my hair and sighed, the sexual tension already building, even though she was now across the hall.
The gold earring had been a little welcome present, a beacon that last night really did happen.
A reminder of what had happened, and something to sully her brain as much as mine for the rest of the day.
With the way her mouth dropped when she opened the drawer to find her missing earring, I knew exactly what she was thinking about.
This was going to be a fun game. Hard, but fun.
Trying to keep away from her, while teasing her just the same.
I fully planned on getting her into my bed again.
Or my limo. Or this very office. But I would have to take my time.
I couldn’t just jump right back in again, though every inch of me wanted to.
She was my assistant now, and I could get into a lot of trouble for starting an office affair. I would have to be careful with it.
I had seen far too many executives head into early retirement because of their office dalliances.
Either the man was married with a family and wanted to taste something sweeter and younger, and was found out, or the scorned employee took their revenge, taking down a CEO unless they were paid a hefty sum.
No, office romances never led to anything except complications.
Still, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to stay away.
For now, I would have to keep Juliet at arm’s length.
I would have to keep it professional because I was Chester damn Brandfield, and I had an empire to run.
As I nodded to myself, I glanced across the hall and saw Juliet with her back toward me on her tiptoes, placing a small frame on the tall wooden bookshelf.
Her dress was hiking up inch by inch, the further she stretched.
My eyes stayed on the hemline, begging for a peek at that beautiful ass, the one I had sunk my teeth into last night.
Cool it.
I forced my eyes away from her creamy skin and to my computer to run over my digital calendar again.
I had a phone meeting in less than fifteen minutes.
Juliet’s first test was to give me my ten-minute heads up.
I crossed my arms and waited, seeing if she really absorbed all of the tasks I had allotted to her.
Let’s see if she could be more than a pretty little thing for me to look at.
Sure enough, at 8:50 a.m., my desk phone trilled, echoing through my office. Seeing the internal number calling, I picked it up.
“Yes?” I asked.
“You have a phone meeting with The New York Times in ten minutes.”
God. Even the way she said that was sexy.
“Thank you, Juliet.”
I heard the click of the phone on the other line.
Through her open door, she got back to arranging her office across the hall.
I tilted my head in amusement as she placed her hands on the desk and gave it a good shove, putting her body weight into it.
She only moved it a couple of inches, but I could see it was now perfectly centered with the window behind her.
Her long hair was escaping the bun she had twisted it into, as she assessed her work.
Seemingly satisfied with the desk, she moved to the cream linen armchairs, adjusting them just so on the patterned rug on the floor.
I should have offered to help, but she seemed determined and I wasn’t sure if being in such close proximity was a good idea yet.
After a few more minutes of watching her feng shui her office, my phone trilled again. I took a deep breath and plastered on a grin, even though the caller couldn’t see me. I had to be on my game for this interview.
“Chester Brandfield here,” I answered.
“Mr. Brandfield. It’s Nina from The New York Times.”
“Hello, Nina. It’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is mine. Thank you for taking this interview today. I know it was last minute, but I really think this piece needs to be in this week’s issue with the merger and all.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Non-profits are not typically your forte at Brandfield Enterprises. Why now?” she asked, jumping right in.
“I’m always looking to shake things up. Try new things.”
“Charity work is nothing new.”
“I’m well aware of that,” I said, noting the small dig she was making.
“But I wanted to do this right. I don’t just jump into business with anyone.
These things must be calculated carefully.
Researched. Done right. You’re a journalist, Nina.
I assume you are aware of the non-profits that have committed fraud in this city. ”
“Yes, Mr. Brandfield.”
“I had to be diligent in finding a non-profit whose mission was pure. That I could be proud to merge with. Proud to grow.”
“Understandable.”
The answer seemed to satisfy her. The truth was, I had never merged with a non-profit because they aren’t money makers, and I didn’t build a billion-dollar empire by feeding the poor or making sure kids had access to books.
Still, reputation was a part of this game, and I knew that looking like I had a heart was good for business. Though, I would never tell Nina that.
“So, why the merger with this non-profit?” asked Nina.
“Aside from their pristine reputation, the work they do for the food banks in this city is admirable. It was a no-brainer.”
“So, it had nothing to do with the fact that they were going under and you saw an opportunity to take on a company for next to nothing?”
I reminded myself that these interviewers and their questions needed to be vetted because it would seem Nina from The New York Times had an agenda. It was a good thing I was well rehearsed and used to this. It came with being a CEO.
“I see nothing wrong with helping a company that was on the outs. If we let every do-gooder fail, then where would we be?”
“So, this was out of the kindness of your heart, Mr. Brandfield? Charity for charity?”
I chuckled. I didn’t want to push it with the sappiness. It wasn’t true to me. I wouldn’t be received as genuine.
“I don’t have much kindness in my heart, Nina. But every once in a while it shows itself, and it just so happened to be with this merger.”
“I appreciate the authenticity,” said Nina, a smile I could hear through the other end of the phone. She got the interview she wanted, and I got the press I wanted. Win-win.
“I’m due in another meeting, but I appreciate you taking the time.”
“The pleasure was mine, Mr. Brandfield.”
I heard the click on the other line and let out a sigh, knowing that was over.
I sunk back in my chair and looked toward Juliet’s office.
She seemed to have gotten the furniture in the flow she wanted and was now sitting at her desk, typing diligently on her computer.
Her bottom lip was tucked into her top teeth in deep concentration.
Don’t get distracted.
It was what I continued telling myself the rest of the morning as I pushed on with various calls and paperwork. It was only the second day of taking over a new company, but it may as well have been a lifetime with how much had happened since yesterday morning.
By lunchtime, my head was spinning, and Juliet was trying her best to keep it screwed on from where she sat in her office. We both deserved a break. I picked up my phone and dialed her extension.
She picked up, but didn’t say anything, just looked at me expectantly from across the hall.
“Hungry?” I asked.
“Starved,” she replied.
“How do you feel about Italian?”
“Fettuccine alfredo, please.”
I smiled. She was a woman who knew what she wanted, and I appreciated that. I hung up before dialing the nearby small Italian joint that was highly underrated. I ordered us fettuccine alfredo, spaghetti Bolognese, two Caesar salads, and dessert, because… why not?
Thirty minutes later, I sent Juliet to go pick it up just around the corner.
When she returned carrying a large paper bag, she stepped hesitantly into my office, just as she had the first time.
She set the bag on an empty spot of my desk and began going through it.
She dug out her box of pasta and a smaller box with her salad, handing me my pasta in a large black box, along with a smaller box with the salad.
As she was about to leave, I stopped her.
“Why don’t you stay?” I asked.
She raised an unsure brow.
“Get to know each other more.”
Her brow raised even further, suggesting we had gotten to know each other pretty well last night.
“Professionally,” I added.
She nodded, and guided herself into the chair behind her. We began eating, silence between us aside from the slurp of noodles and crunch of romaine lettuce.
“So, what did you do before this?” I asked, swallowing down a bite of salad with the Diet Coke she had brought back.
“I was at another non-profit. Much smaller than this one,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
“Accounting?”
“Mhmm.”
“Is that what you went to school for?”
“Originally, no. I thought I was going to go into forensic science.” She laughed at the memory, as if it were preposterous.
“Like the kind they talk abouts in crime podcasts?” I asked in surprise, trying to imagine it.
“Exactly. Turns out, I’m rather squeamish…” She shook her head.
I chuckled. “So, accounting it was.”
She shrugged. “I’m good with numbers.”
I had the urge to tell her she was good at other things too, but held my tongue.
“And you?” she asked, twirling fettuccine on her fork as she looked at me curiously. “Was this what you always wanted to do?”
“I knew I always wanted something that was my own. I didn’t want to work for anyone else.”
“So, you became your own boss.”
“Exactly.”
“You never had a job where someone told you what to do?” she asked. I was surprised she didn’t ask what most people did.
How did you do it? How did you start?
I smiled, thinking back to high school, growing up in a middle-class family. I didn’t talk about it much. Only when it benefited me in trying to relate to people, or make it seem like I had an inspiring “up and coming” story.
“I worked at a frozen yogurt shop,” I said.
Juliet choked on a noodle and reached for her drink, wide-eyed.
“You did not!” she said, laughing.
“I did. I weighed the toppings and everything.”
“Did you wear a little apron?” she said, eyeing me up and down.
“And a matching visor.”
She shook her head, as if imagining it.
“I also worked at a diner. A sporting goods place. Even an Irish pub, where I tried my hand at being a bouncer.”
“How did that go?” she asked.
“Not for me,” I said, shaking my head. “But I did like that little bit of power.”
“Of course, you did.” She rolled her eyes before looking at me intently. “You had a lot of odd jobs.”
“I had to. I was trying to pay my way through school.” I shrugged.
“You almost sound just like a normal person,” she said with a smirk.
“I’m very normal.”
“Suuuure. I’ve seen your place, you know. That’s not normal.”
She seemed to realize what she had said, and looked around nervously as if someone might have heard her. I put up my hand and waved her off before reaching for the bag between us.
“Dessert?” I asked.
“Duh.”
I laughed, pulling out a box containing a tiramisu cupcake and a slice of cheesecake.
“Which one?” I asked, opening the lid and holding it out to her.
She plucked up the cupcake and began peeling the wrapper. Bringing it to her lips, she ran her tongue across the vanilla bean-specked icing before savoring it in her mouth. It was impossible not to look, remembering how her tongue felt swirling around my cock that was now growing hard in my slacks.
“You make that look good,” I said in a low voice.
She looked up at me, a little bit of frosting on her lip.
“Oh, I’m very proud of how good I am with my tongue,” she teased with a smirk, before licking the frosting from her lip.
My phone trilled loudly, breaking our eye contact and growing sexual tension. It rang once more before going to voicemail.
“I should probably get back to work,” she said suddenly, beginning to clean up.
Nodding, I left her in my office and strode for the bathroom, trying to hide my erection from the rest of the office.
I slipped inside the nearby restroom and clutched the counter tightly.
I stared at myself in the mirror, putting the blame of this situation all on me, then splashed some water on my face, trying to cool off.
This girl was going to be trouble, and I was going to love every minute of it.