Chapter 6 #2
She opens her mouth, but I silence her by pressing my thumb to her lips. The smooth warmth of her flesh travels straight to my balls, and I hold back a tidal wave of pleasure by sheer force of will.
“Don’t you know how precious you are? How important? If you’d died…” My mouth dries as horror beyond measure streaks through me at the thought. “You need a protector.”
Unable to resist, I brush my thumb over her lip ring and bend closer until her breath warms my face. My entire back aches from the stooped position, but I’ll happily hold it if it means tasting her sweetness.
Her glazed eyes and flushed cheeks whip my arousal to dangerous heights.
“I’ll make sure no one ever hurts you again, sweet pea,” I vow.
Yearning fills her shimmering hazel orbs. This close, flecks of gold and green stand out amidst the light brown in her irises, and I long to drown in her beauty for centuries.
I dip closer. The hard curve of her lip ring teases my bottom lip. Just as I graze her mouth with mine, she jerks back and turns her face away.
“No.”
Her lifeless tone yanks the ground out from under my feet. I stumble and catch myself with my palm on the wall above her head.
Fuck. I lost control and overstepped. Again.
With self-hatred boiling in my blood, I rise to my full height and fix my suit as I step back.
“I apologize for being inappropriate, Ms. Miles.”
I revert to professionalism like a coward.
She means too much for me to ask precisely what she means when she says no.
If she’s refusing my kiss, my pride will take a major hit, but if she doesn’t want my protection, I may never recover.
I fill my lungs for a calming breath, but her sweet vanilla scent ruins my efforts.
I clear my throat and run my fingers through my hair.
“I’ll introduce you to your coworkers as soon as you’re ready,” I announce.
She curls her hands into fists and rolls her shoulders back before nodding.
I use the jabbing motion to lock away my emotions as I press the button to open the doors.
Ensuring Penelope feels safe and supported at work is more important than lusting over her.
Despite her nervousness, her authentic smile as she shakes hands and repeats names—a technique I taught her when I learned she was struggling with public speaking in high school—endears her coworkers to her.
Part of me realizes I retroactively chose individuals who not only had exceptional skills, but who I thought would mesh well with Penelope—and not just her sweet personality, but also the headstrong perfectionist she becomes in front of a computer.
When Jon Zhen, the oldest employee on the software specialist team, stands from behind his desk and openly gives her a skeptical once-over before offering her his hand, I tense, but Penelope accepts his handshake with the same generosity she did everyone else.
He doesn’t release her. She doesn’t pull away. Alarm spears through me, but before I can rip him away from her, his entire countenance softens and he nods, drops her hand, and returns to his desk.
“What just happened?” I ask her.
She shrugs, but the relief shining from her eyes tells a different story.
Kole Arden, a nineteen-year-old kid who graduated high school not long ago but with the drive and gumption to apply for a job, aced his interview, and earned praise from his supervisors on the first small project he worked on, perks up.
“Mr. Zhen did that to me, too. I figured it out. He’s checking for calluses,” he says.
“Geez, kid, don’t give away trade secrets,” Mr. Zhen calls from his desk.
Kole laughs.
“If anyone knows about different calluses, it’s Mr. Sterling.
Baseball bats, tennis rackets, running shoes, bicycle seats—heck, even rock climbing harnesses—he’s personally tested and improved all kinds of sports equipment to decrease the likelihood of calluses.
He’s the one you should trust with the information,” Kole says.
Having never thought of the physical impacts on the body from working at a desk all day, I grab Penelope’s wrist and lift her hand.
Careful of her watch, I rotate her wrist, uncurl her fist, and lean closer to inspect her tiny, delicate fingers. Sure enough, she has calluses. The pattern and placement intrigue me.
How many times must she have repeated the same motions for her skin to change? Mice and keyboards aren’t inherently athletic, but her hands are proof that skill, discipline, and consistency are necessary for greatness in all specialties.
“Interesting,” I murmur.
Kole clears his throat.
Oh shit.
It’s Penelope’s first time meeting these people—the people she’ll work with every day for years—and here I am, intimately inspecting her hand in front of them as though I have every right.
“Apologies, Ms. Miles. I—”
“It’s okay, everyone, I didn’t replace your CEO with an alien or a robot. This is normal for us. He treats me like a little sister because he’s been friends with my brother since we were kids,” Penelope says.
I cringe internally at her explanation but allow her the dignity the half-truth provides. With a smile that begs for forgiveness, I lower her hand and give a farewell stroke to her skin as I reluctantly release her.
“Again, apologies. Don’t let my slip up alter your opinion of Ms. Miles. I hired her because of her skills, not because—”
“Don’t worry, boss,” Mr. Zhen interrupts. “Going by her hands, she doesn’t need your endorsement; she’ll prove herself on her own. Show her to her desk and leave her to it, yeah?”
When the crew responds with overall agreement, I follow his suggestion and lead her to her workspace. She blows out an unsteady breath but approaches her computer with a determined glint in her eyes.
With a quirked brow and chin tilt, she dismisses me. Her small smile as I turn away ensures me she won’t hold a grudge despite me embarrassing her.
I close myself in my office and settle at my desk to answer the end of day emails Mr. Thomas marked as important.
After moving a few things around on her desk, Penelope sits in her chair and glances around.
Our eyes meet through the glass.
That’s right, sweet pea, I’ve got you right in my sights. Right where I can watch you. Protect you. Support you. Cherish you.
She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks away, breaking eye contact with me, but awareness emanates from her. Even when she tries to duck behind her computer, the angle of her desk prevents her from blocking my view of her face.
As her coworkers accept her into their fold and take turns checking on her as she explores our current systems, I relax and peel half my attention off her to focus on work.
Peace flows through me as I complete tasks with her in my periphery, and I relax for what feels like the first time in my adult life.
I startle and wipe the goofy grin off my face when the executive floor secretary, Ms. Kim, knocks on my door.
I open the folder in front of me and call her in.
She struts across my office and places a steaming mug of coffee on my desk.
I ignore her blatant attempt at drawing my attention to her cleavage as she lingers half bent in front of me, and I pick up my pen. She slides the coffee closer.
I only drink one cup of coffee per day and never this late. Most employees will clock out in less than half an hour.
“Thank you, Ms. Kim,” I say as I sign the document.
“Can I help you with anything else?” she asks.
Her voice grates down my spine.
“No, thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
I close the folder, weave my fingers together, and rest them on top before meeting her gaze. Her fake lashes and filled lips detract from her natural beauty, but they aren’t overdone like so many women nowadays, and to each their own.
“Ms. Kim, you are a secretary, not a barista or waitress. Please refrain from fetching drinks in the future. In fact, feel free to report anyone if they request it of you. You have more important tasks to fulfill. Understand?”
She bats her lashes at me and shifts her weight from one high heel to the other before she registers the meaning of my words. Emotions flit across her face, and I predict her response before she speaks by the calculation in her eyes.
I hide my annoyance as she simpers.
“Of course, Mr. Sterling. Thank you so much for looking out for me,” Ms. Kim gushes.
I shift my gaze and catch Penelope’s eyes. She looks away but not fast enough to hide the anger, hurt, and betrayal shimmering in her expressive hazel orbs.
Her response both twists my stomach into knots and fills me with hope.
I dismiss Ms. Kim, but before I can go to Penelope’s side, the vice president knocks on the glass beside my open door.
Swallowing my sigh, I motion him in and offer him his favorite flavored electrolyte water from my mini fridge as I grab my own and sit to discuss the latest developments and concerns.
By the time he shakes my hand and strides from my office, the coffee on my desk is cold and most people have left for the evening. I grimace and grab the unwanted coffee as another wave of workers disappear into the elevator.
Mr. Thomas fixes his hair in his reflection on the window before turning and stalking toward the kitchen.
Penelope stands with her back to the room as she washes her mug in the sink.
A red haze settles over my vision as he approaches her. I’ve never seen him so nervous before.
My jealousy flares to catastrophic levels as she stops what she’s doing and gives him her full attention.
Judging by the expression on her face, she isn’t interested in his advances, but the knowledge does little to appease the caveman inside me. I stalk toward them with nothing in my brain except the urge to commit murder.
Penelope Miles is mine.
Only mine.