Chapter 10
DOMINIC
It’s late when my West Coast operator calls. His voice is tight and anxious. “A few of our boys went swimming last night, boss. Got some infection from the water and they’re laid up in bed. Doctor says they won’t be good to go for at least a week.”
“Fuck,” I groan, massaging my forehead. “You’ve got the assessment in five days, right?”
“Yeah, and there’s still loads of work to be done. I need at least three guys. Good guys, boss, not any riffraff I can get off the street. I need our guys, men who’ve been through the Vale Construction program.”
There’s an upside and a downside to heavily investing in training workers, and this is one of the downsides.
Every Vale site has a particular flow. Plus, the work ethic is much higher because we reward long-term effort.
Bastards like Aaron, for example, treat his workers like shit and then act surprised when they get shit results.
“I’ll call around some of the East Coast guys,” I tell him. “See if any of them want a free ride on the Red Eye.”
He breathes out a sigh of relief. “I’ve got to be honest. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“I’ll get started. Let me get back to you.”
I hang up the phone, then leave my office. Most of my employees have already gone. I glance at my watch, it’s six PM, much later than I realized. In the pit, I find Ethan at the coffee machine, filling up a to-go cup. He’s got his bag slung over his shoulder.
“All good, boss?”
I quickly fill him in. I’m not even done talking when he takes off his bag and claps me on the shoulder. “I’ll start calling around. We need to check what projects we can spare men from too. Maybe we could put the low-income on the back burner for a week or so.”
“I’d rather take it from the commercial in the city.”
“Dom,” Ethan says. “The low-income project is ahead of schedule. We need to finish up in the commercial district to fund the next round of projects. Trust me, a few days won’t hurt.”
I sigh, nodding. “You’re right. Let’s get started—”
A door opens. I turn, and my throat tightens. It’s Izzy, her hair messy and beautiful, honestly, sexy as fuck around her shoulders. She’s wearing a white blouse and a hip-hugging black skirt. My manhood shifts and my chest twinges. Last night, I shared with her. More than I have with any woman.
“Another hand,” Ethan says, clapping his hands together.
“What’s going on?” she asks, refusing to look at me.
Perhaps she thinks I resent her for not telling me that Pike is her uncle. But she didn’t choose her family. In my head, my father laughs cruelly. You’re letting her blind you. Or maybe I just don’t want to be so damn cynical all the time.
“It’s fine,” I say. “You don’t have to stay.”
“Is something wrong?” She says, looking at Ethan.
Ethan quickly tells her. “Want to help us call around for some people for a project?”
She chews her plump lip. Christ. I wish she’d stop doing that. And I wish she’d never stop. Even from the other side of the room, it’s like I can smell her perfume, or that just-her scent that triggers something primal in me.
“Sure,” she murmurs after a pause, finally glancing at me.
Her cheeks are a gorgeous shade of red. When she brushes her hair behind her ear, her new earrings wink at me.
The three of us settle in the pit. Our first task is to choose which workers could viably fulfill this role, which doesn’t take long. Then it’s time to make the calls.
The entire time, I risk looking over at Izzy. I love the way she twirls her hair around her finger as she talks on the phone. The way her face lights up into a smile. She’s been through so much, but she hasn’t let it dim her light. I could learn something from that.
Thirty minutes later, we’ve managed to convince two workers to get on a flight tonight.
“Two more and we’re done,” Ethan says. “Shouldn’t be too—” He curses when his personal cell rings. “Sorry.” He takes it out of his bag and answers. “Hey, babe. No, yeah. No. There was an emergen—Well, what do you want from me? I have to work.”
He huffs and drops his phone onto the desk, scowling.
“Trouble in paradise?” I ask.
“All she wants to do is argue,” he groans.
“You can go. We’re almost done.” I can tell he wants to—he’s been having problems with his girlfriend for a while—but he’s too loyal to go without a fight.
“Dom, you need me here—”
“Go,” I say firmly. “We’ve got this, right, Izzy?”
She looks up at me with one of those reassuring, warm smiles of hers. “Yep. I’m feeling good about this next call. It won’t be long.”
“Are you sure?” Ethan asks doubtfully.
“I’m certain. It’ll only be more difficult for you if you wait.”
“Relationships,” Ethan says, groaning. “You’ve got the right idea, Dom.”
Izzy looks sharply at him, then quickly averts her gaze.
“See ya,” Ethan says. “And thanks, Dom. Really.”
Ethan hurries from the office, almost tripping. I make the next call, pacing the office, feeling Izzy’s eyes on me from time to time. I’m suddenly very aware that it’s just us in here.
Three more calls, and I manage to convince one more worker.
I sit at the desk, waiting for Izzy to finish hers.
Again, she’s twirling her hair around her finger.
“Oh, sure,” she says. “I can wait.” She hums softly as she waits.
I try not to look at the way her blouse pulls tightly across her chest, but it’s difficult.
Fuck. I look down at the desk, pretending to be interested in a random piece of paper. I can’t be getting hard at my office, can I? This is completely inappropriate. I shudder as I try to push down the impulse. I’m not this kind of boss, never have been.
“Oh, great,” she says, voice bright. “Thank you. This means the world to us!”
She hangs up, letting out a sigh. “It’s done,” she tells me. “He’ll go to California.”
“Fantastic,” I say. “I’ll arrange the flights. They’re already on their way to the airport. Can you get me their emails so I can send the bookings?”
“Sure thing,” she murmurs.
That eats up another fifteen minutes, then we’re alone in the office. It’s almost eight o’clock. I stand in the pit, my arms behind my back as though that will stop me from reaching out for her.
“Thanks for tonight,” I say.
“Don’t mention it,” she murmurs, standing on the other side of the cubicles.
Her hands are crossed in front of her, meaning she’s pushing the perfect round globes of her tits together without even meaning it. I’m a goddamn savage, but I can’t stop looking, can’t stop dreaming and imagining.
I could tear off that blouse, reveal her juicy, bouncy tits. Rip off her bra with my teeth, then greedily attack her nipples until she’s ready for every inch I’m going to give her. I’d slide my hand down her belly, into her skirt, find her slick pussy and—
Fucking stop.
She tilts her head at me. It’s like she knows what I’m thinking. Perhaps she likes it, or maybe she wants it too.
“What?” I ask when the tension gets to be too much.
“Nothing,” she says.
I walk around the cubicles, stopping just short of her. Her breathing gets quicker the closer I get. I never thought I’d be obsessed with a woman’s breathing, but here we are. It’s like she’s beginning to moan without even meaning to.
“It’s not nothing,” I say, reaching forward to tuck her hair behind her ear. She turns her head toward me, reveling in my touch. “What’s wrong?”
I let my hand drop before I get carried away.
“It’s just what Ethan said,” she murmurs, shrugging. “When he said you have the right idea.”
“You’re curious about that?” I say, smirking. I’m relieved because it means this attraction isn’t one-sided.
“It’s just… well, you’re rich. You’re…” She waves her hand up and down at me.
I chuckle. “Well, you’re…” I do the same. “Too.”
That draws a musical laugh from her. “Thanks,” she says. “I know I shouldn’t pry into this.”
“It’s not some big mystery,” I tell her. “I don’t date. I work. I work out. And that’s about it. Ethan has been having some trouble lately, so he brings it up a lot. Me, I mean. Like he thinks being a bachelor is a cheat code.”
“Well, is it?” she asks.
I take another step closer. I can’t help it. Or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe I can.
I just don’t want to.
“In some ways, yes,” I admit. “I never have to leave work early. All my mental and creative and most of my physical energy can go to my work.”
“But?”
“Who said there’s a but?”
She shrugs. “It sounded like there was going to be one.”
“Or maybe you wanted there to be one.”
She rolls her eyes, forcing a laugh. But it comes out shaky and unsure. “Okay, sir.”
I take another step forward. A half-step, really, because another full step would send me straight into her. We’re so close now, our bodies are almost pressed right up against each other. She makes the most beautiful sound, a moan mixed with a sigh.
“I like it when you call me sir,” I groan.
“What was the but?” She whispers.
I smirk. “You seem very needy for there to be one.”
She moves to take a step back. What are you doing? I don’t overthink it. I step forward, then reach out and grip her hips gently. The second I feel her curvy perfection, my temperature rises. My length grows hard again, my precome-hot tip pulses against the inside of my pants.
“But,” I say. “It can get lonely. Sometimes, a man starts to wonder what it’s all for. Why am I working so hard?”
“To make the city a better place,” she whispers.
“Sure, but I’m rich too, Izzy. What’s it all for?”
“I don’t kn…”
She trails off when I lean down. Touching her hips was probably a mistake, because there’s no way I’m going to be able to stop. I pull her tightly against me, letting her feel the solid steel in my pants, then guide my lips to hers.
Her mouth is warm, nervous at first. For a moment, I think she might push me away. Have I made a mistake?
But then she moans and rubs her body against mine, her ample breasts pressing against me. She slides her arms around me and digs her fingernails into my back through my shirt.
I slip my greedy hands from her hips, around to her back, then smooth down to her ass.
“You’re so fucking curvy,” I groan between hungry kisses.
“You like that?” she moans.
“I fucking love it.”
I palm her ass, pressing against her roundness. An ocean of precome is burning at the tip of my cock, more than I’ve ever experienced, like all these bachelor years have been leading me to this exact moment. She claws onto the back of my neck with both of her hands as I massage her.
When I lift her up, her legs wrap around me instantly. I place her on the nearest desk and surge forward, pushing my dick between her legs. When her skirt gets in the way, she does the sexist thing…
Huffing, she grabs her skirt and wriggles it up, exposing her thick legs trapped in tights. I stare down at her flawless figure for a moment, mesmerized, breathing through tightly gritted teeth.
She raises her eyebrow at me, and the corner of her lip twitches into a half-smile. But her eyes shine with nerves, like she thinks she’s gone too far. I kill that notion by surging forward into another hungry kiss. My groin is flush against hers now, nothing between us but a scrap of fabric.
I’m sure I can feel the wet folds of her slick pussy as I grind up and down, letting her feel the passion.
“Don’t stop,” she pants in my ear, running her hands through my hair. “Oh my—Fuck, Dom.”
Her voice pitches high. It’s the first time in years I haven’t been distracted by the business. All I can think about is her.
I lean back slightly, creating just enough space between our bodies, and slide my hand up her thigh.
She whimpers against me. The higher I get, the closer to her slick heat, the breathier her moans become.
I’m almost at her sweet warmth, ready to push my hand firmly against her, when a door opens on the other side of the office.
I step away immediately, registering the hurt look on her face. Then she realizes why. She turns at the sound of footsteps.
Two cleaners wheel their mop buckets. When they see us and the flushed look on our faces, they quickly look away. They’ve probably walked in on worse scenes in more dysfunctional offices than this.
Izzy stands, adjusting her skirt. “I—uh—I have to go.”
I clear my throat, every inch of me still burning. “Yeah,” I murmur.
“I’ll, yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Her face and neck are bright red. Her lips are still swollen and so damn kissable. But her inner conflict is painted on her face, like she thinks she’s done something wrong. But I’m the one kissing my employees.
“See you tomorrow, Izzy.”
She grabs her jacket from the back of her chair, picks up her bag, and swiftly leaves the office. The cleaners aren’t even in the room anymore. I watch Izzy go, urging myself to go to her, hug her, kiss her gently this time.
But then the moment passes. She’s gone.
And, as usual, I’m by myself again.