Chapter 25
Julianna
“Neither of them have pulled their offers, so I suppose things worked out in the end.”
I push away from my computer and regard Presley with a sigh. “It could’ve gone better. On the other hand, having an open Wednesday was nice.”
“Yes, you got to come into the office late for the first time.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Oh, yeah, and if I wanna come in late because I was up all night getting drunk on pussy, it’s no big deal, right?”
“That’s different.”
“Uh-huh.” Presley kicks back from her seat and shakes her head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were falling in love. But I know better. Because you’re the last gal to ever get clocked by Cupid.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Me? In love? I certainly adore Alessa. I’m not going to deny that. She’s the giant breath of fresh air I’ve been dying to have in my life, even if I didn’t know it before. Women? Women make me happy. Their mere existence puts a skip in my step. But until Alessa, most of the women I’ve dated since my teenage years haven’t been anything more than distractions. It’s uncouth of me to say, but when we’re done having sex, I don’t see the point of us hanging out. Until Alessa. Now, I enjoy having company at dinner for the sake of it. Now, a sleepover isn’t an inconvenience in the morning, it’s a reason to stay in bed. Like I did this morning when I realized I didn’t have my scheduled meeting. In a way, Alessa’s mishap was a boon to our relationship. We stayed up all night making love and washing away the stress in my shower. Woke up to find her scrolling through social media. After I asked her if she thought it was a good idea to face her phone camera while naked in bed with me, she tossed her phone aside and kissed me until I spent an extra two hours in bed with her.
I’m not going to say that I’m in love. That would be absurd. I’ve only known Alessa for a few weeks. Also, I hate to say it, but she’s much younger than me, and that becomes evident. I don’t think about it. I especially don’t think about how she was in preschool while I was a co-ed.
I jump into a lot of things. That’s my personality. My nature. It’s how I’ve made a billion dollars since opening my business. This isn’t the first relationship I’ve jumped into, either, although it is my first one with this setup. One day a reporter will track down a woman named Gloria and ask her about that summer I whisked her away to Paris and made all her dreams come true – minus marrying her, anyway.
Like I can jump into anything, I tend to jump out of a lot of things too. Ending relationships, when I feel they’ve come to their natural end, is easy. Only once have I been dumped. I can’t say I felt terrible afterward. I moved on, and she’s married now.
While I can’t say I see things ending with Alessa anytime soon, I am in no hurry to commit. Think I’ve got her hooked, anyway.
“I’m not in love,” I say, ignoring that massive eyeroll coming from Presley’s direction. She’s one to talk. The woman’s in love with someone new every week. Her definition of “love” is so loose it’s spilling the beans every time she walks into the office. You’d never guess that she’s technically my best friend for as much shit we give each other.
“A hundred bucks says that light blowing up your phone is from your girlfriend, who should be working.” Presley opens the door to my office and steals a peek outside. Ah, yes. There is Alessa, sitting near Vern. While Vern is diligently at work between his computer and his laptop, Alessa sits with her legs crossed, texting on her phone. Presley’s right. My girlfriend isn’t doing much work. She’s blowing up my phone.
“Sorry.” I unlock my phone. “Gotta take this.”
“I don’t care if you’re paying her to sit around and look pretty for your amusement, but at least throw Vern a bone for putting up with it.”
“I’ll consider it.”
Presley leaves my office, closing the door – and my view of Alessa. Ample opportunity to check my messages from my flirty girlfriend.
“Can’t stop thinking about you, Ms. Marcon. Tell me that you’re also thinking of me.”
Am I thinking of her? Is she kidding? When do I stop thinking about her lately?
“I’m thinking about us in bed…” I erase that. Because of course I’m thinking about that. I need to expand my conversational horizons. “Thinking that we need to get out of town for the weekend. I have a meeting early Monday, but we could get out of here Friday evening after work.” I also erase that. I don’t feel like traveling.
I want to stay home with her. That’s what I look forward to on the weekends now. Lazy at home with my girlfriend, with bouts of gym time (also known as me time.)
Before I get an actual text sent to her, another one comes from Alessa.
“Let’s play a game.”
“A game? Now?”
“Via text.”
“… All right.”
“We get to ask each other one sex question, and the other has to answer honestly.”
“What kind of game is this?”
“I’ll start – have you ever touched yourself before going on a date? To get in the mood?”
I put my phone down and get up. I hit the button that controls the shutters and catch a new glimpse of Alessa at her desk.
She happens to glance up and meet my gaze. Her phone waves in my direction.
Is she kidding me? She’s not even hiding it! She is something else…
I close the shutters and return to my desk. Fine. We’ll play her stupid game. Although I have a feeling that her end goal is to get me thinking about sex. I know how she is by now.
“I can’t say that this is a topic of conversation that happens often. What do you think?”
I don’t give her time to respond with whatever cutesy words she has stashed in her mind.
“I’ve done it. Sometimes it’s good to gain perspective before going out on a date. Besides, one never knows how a date will end. I could be disappointed and too upset to take care of myself at home.”
I answer an email while waiting for her response.
“Interesting. When was the last time for you? I want to imagine you touching yourself.”
Cute. Very cute.
“No. It’s my turn to ask a question, isn’t it? So, I’m going to ask you a question, Less.”
“Go for it.”
Oh, what to ask? How about we start with…
“How good does it feel when I make love to you?”
I know. So original. When in doubt, go with the classics?
“So good that it’s all I can think about even when I’m satisfied.”
“Then you’re not satisfied and I’m not doing my job.”
Presley steps through my door without knocking. Again.
“Put down that phone and hear me out.” She locks the door. I leave my phone upside down on my desk. My abandoned computer likewise goes to sleep while my business partner takes up the spot across from me again. But instead of relaxing, she pulls out another printed sheet of paper and slides it across my desk.
I can’t say that I like what I see.
A week ago, I treated the assertion that my girlfriend is an “STD-ridden slut” as a prank. One that made me have a couple of realizations, but a tasteless prank, nonetheless. I didn’t launch an investigation, even though I probably should have for the sake of the peace in the office. Hell, for all I knew, Presley did it to make a point. After all, these fliers keep showing up in her office.
“Where are these coming from?”
“In-house, obviously.” Presley grimaces. “I stepped out to see you for a few minutes, and someone managed to slip that beneath my door. Nobody noticed. So, it’s someone who flies under the radar and wouldn’t look suspicious.”
That narrows it down to about twenty people at this time of day. Lovely. Could be one of our staff. Could be a courier. Could be security for all I know. No matter what, someone in my office is causing problems for me. And Alessa.
I look back at the paper. “Perhaps the boss would like to know that Alessa Penrose is fraternizing with the male interns?”
“So nice to know that we have a spy on our payroll.” I crumple up the paper and shove it in the bottom of my wastebasket. “What do you think they want?”
“Besides our attention? Who knows? Someone looking to sow discord in our midst.” Presley sighs. “Look, Jules, I don’t care what it’s like with your intern slash girlfriend, as long as you’re jamming along as usual when it comes to business. Marry her and start a family for all I care. Just don’t fuck up the harmony of our office.”
“So, basically, don’t lose you money.”
“That’s all I ask. And don’t get us in legal trouble.”
“How many times do I have to tell you this has all been cleared with HR?”
“And how many times do I have to ask you how much you strong-armed them into agreeing to this? To not press charges?”
I’m not answering that. I don’t want my words to come back to bite me in the ass one day. Fact of the matter is, HR is looking the other way as long as Alessa remains placated – and I will make sure she’s not unhappy with our arrangement. I suppose, if she wanted to, she could force HR’s hand on the matter. But at the end of the day, I am the queen of this corporate castle, and HR’s end goal is to not get us all sued… not to protect every hurt feeling in the building.
Unless they’re my hurt feelings, of course.
“The question is,” I steer the conversation, “why are they giving you these juicy tidbits? Who’s trying to stir up discord between us?”
Presley shrugs. “I’m the personable one, remember? Either that or they’re trying to rile me up so I get pissed at you.”
“Is it working?”
She narrows her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”
Presley and I have our squabbles like any other pair of friends in the corporate world, but I don’t want to think that this is going to be what creates a rift between us. Companions should never come between us, and honestly, they haven’t yet. I put up with her philandering, and she puts up with my stuffy heiresses, actresses, and women like Alessa who come in and out of my office and hang on my arm at events. We both have our seduction styles, as opposite as they can be.
It’s official. I have yet another item on my already long list of shit I need to do. Namely, I must get to the bottom of this crap and find out who the hell is trying to sabotage my relationship with Alessa.
I can’t wait. Let. Me. Tell. You. No better use of my time than playing these petty games with my underlings.