Chapter 6
Bonnie
The first thing I do when I get home is take a long, hot bath. I was only at Acercraft for about an hour, but it felt like I’d just completed a twelve hour shift.
The interview itself wasn’t stressful, but seeing Ethan today and feeling the brunt of his dislike again just drained the energy out of me.
I don’t ever remember doing a pitch or speaking to a client who wasn’t in awe of my ability. I always left them with the sense of not deserving me or my skills. But today, I was made to sweat and was asked a question I didn’t know how to answer.
I’m not always successful in interviews; actually, I frequently fail, mainly due to my lack of a degree. But my skill has never once been called into question, and it made me feel like I was somehow not enough.
Not enough for him.
When he asked me that question, he seemed surprised by my answer, disappointed, almost.
It was a dark room, but I felt the weight of his stare on me. I could have sworn something passed between us, but I’m sure I was imagining things, having dreamed about him this morning.
I drain the glass of wine I brought along with me and leave the cooling rose-scented water. I wrap my terry cloth robe around me and head to the kitchen for some more wine when my phone vibrates on the kitchen counter. It stops while I’m getting my fingers dry enough to pick up.
It’s Jordan.
The phone starts ringing again, and I pick up on the first ring.
“Hi, Jordan.”
“Bonnie, thanks for coming today. That was an amazing performance. I knew I was right to invite you.”
“But?” I ask, the feeling in my gut telling me that there was something more he wanted to say.
“Oh, you want to know if you got in? I’m afraid that it’s not good news.”
Crap, I knew it.
I didn’t get the job. It was probably down to Ethan because I know Jordan, Mike, and Sajid would have hired me off the bat if they could have.
Shame. I didn’t think I’d like the place, but getting in there today, I fell in love with it. I already imagined myself wearing an Acercraft t-shirt.
“You’re in, Bonnie!” Jordan interrupts my train of thought.
“What? I thought you said—“
“I was just kidding. Bonnie, your presentation was the best out of the candidates we interviewed. Everyone loved it.”
“Even…?” my voice trails off, but Jordan knows what I wantto ask.
“Yes, even him. He’s a bit of a hard ass and believes in testing limits, so don’t worry, that’s just him.”
“Wow, okay.” I let myself release the giddy chuckle I’d been holding in.
“Congratulations, Bonnie, and let me be the first to say welcome to the team. HR will be in touch.”
“Thanks, Jordan.”
I squeal and even do a small victory dance. For someone who was so bent on not going, I’m super excited about getting picked.
For the rest of the afternoon, I call all my friends. Sabrina is surprised and relieved, having been so anxious that it might be awkward between Jordan and me if I got turned down. I even called my Nan in Clonmel and Twiggy, an old friend who now lives in Dublin.
I then spend the rest of the afternoon researching everything on the Acercraft Group.
My first week at Acercraft was for orientation. Another guy, Owen, had also been employed for the same role, so it was nice to have a friend to chat to as we went along.
There’s a gym on our floor, a huge cafe with seating areas where we have lunch, a testing room, and a dark room where we can unwind and play online video games. There are bathrooms next to the dormitory-style luxury bedrooms to crash in if we’re ever too tired to go home.
Gosh. And they say they don’t want employees hooking up.
That’s the first rule that needs to change here, if I ever get a say.
If they expect us to work this hard, then they should be prepared to turn a blind eye to the way we choose to let off steam.
Unlike the stuffiness in the lobby and the bottom floors, the top five floors, referred to as the tech floors, are where all the magic happens. Software and network engineers, quality assurance testers, and cybersecurity specialists like me live on the tech floors.
We have an unspoken uniform of black tops, and most prefer to wear the company’s branded shirts and hoodies. Only the top executives tend to appear in suits, and they live on the topmost floor, which we casually refer to as Olympus.
The staff trainees and junior associate offices are decent-sized, beautiful spaces with four walls of glass, one of which overlooks the Manhattan skyline. The only downside is the plush carpet and absence of doors, which means anyone can sneak in on you unless you have supersonic hearing.
By the second week, Owen and I finished our orientation and were settling into what would likely become our daily routine going forward. Part of our job description includes months of one-on-one training with senior executives.
It’s now my third week here, and things have gone off without a hitch. I’m starting to lay my initial misgivings to bed, seeing so many upsides to working in a place like this.
The morale on our floor is unmatched, for one, and due to having specialists in different areas all in one place, the number of things I’ve learned in just three weeks has surprised me.
“Bonnie, have you seen these?”
I look up from the numbers on my screen to see Owen waving two mobile tablets from the doorway.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Our training schedule is out, and we start next week. Here, I picked up an extra.” He pushes one across the polished surface towards me.
“Thanks, Owen.”
“Sure. Are you coming to lunch?” I hadn’t realized that much time had passed until he mentioned getting food. It’s well past 1 p.m. already.
“Oh, I’ll grab something in the cafe once I finish this.” I ignore the crestfallen look on his face as he leaves.
During the first week of orientation, Owen and I were practically joined at the hip and took our lunches together.
I enjoy the lingering looks he gives me, and I might entertain him on a day when I’m feeling particularly low and need a pick-me-up, but I doubt he’s read the by-laws yet or come across the non-fraternizing clause. I don’t mind breaking a rule or two, but he doesn’t strike me as the type who’s comfortable breaking rules.
Besides, I need to finish this task. I’m determined to learn the other programming languages Ethan mentioned in the interview when he questioned how useful BUG-fix would be to Acercraft.
During our orientation, we saw more of Mike and Jordan. Mike is boisterous, his temper as quick as his laughter, and has a smile for everyone. Jordan ensures everyone’s security, creating firewalls and debugging systems.
I’ve quickly realized that it’s an endless battle. Being an online platform, we are a prime target for hackers and data thieves, and we’re under constant pressure to be one step ahead.
Ethan oversees software engineering and user interface design and is the soul of Acercraft.
He’s the most enigmatic, least-seen managing partner, and employees talk about him with awe and fear, the female employees with a certain breathlessness in their voice that never fails to disgust me.
Although we didn’t see him, we felt him. Everywhere. He just made things happen.
You’d be working on a difficult project and suddenly get an email from him thanking you for your hard work. A small raise on your birthday with a personal message, according to guys who have been here long enough. And the rumor is that he works the longest hours.
If the top floor is Olympus, Ethan is Zeus, who never leaves. Since starting, I’ve not actually seen him, although he’s encouraged me a few times.
Like today’s message. I click on the bubble for the hundredth time.
You’re doing amazing work on the BUG-fix, Bonnie. Give Saj a shout if you need anything. - EH
Which is why I suddenly got a burst of energy to keep going. Pathetic, I know. I can’t help being such a sucker for praise.
I haven’t quite forgiven him for trying to undermine my interview. Although to be fair, it was an interview. I should have expected to be pushed to my limit. But still.
Jordan made me understand that I was the clear winning candidate, something I knew on a bone-deep level. I was just hungry for Ethan’s admiration. Mainly because I’ve never had it from day one.
I wanted him to look at me with awe and admiration.
With desire.
And I’m being an idiot again.
I power on the mobile tablet, looking through the twice-weekly training.
Hmm. I have no sessions with Ethan. Zero. Owen has… I count six.
Instead, I get twelve sessions with Sajid.
Come to think of it now, I’ve noticed that anything that involves us meeting in person, Ethan will have me see Sajid or Will, his assistant, instead. I know Owen has had at least a couple of meetings with him since we started, and I wondered if it was deliberate.
Now, I know.
Only Ethan could have done this. It’s a problem solved; after all, my worst fear about joining Acercraft was working with Ethan. I should be grateful.
Instead, I feel…unwanted.
Geez, will you listen to yourself!
I shake off the alien feeling and plunge back into my work, more determined than ever to make a mark in this company, to become a force he has to reckon with.
By the time I straighten and rub out the crick in my neck, it’s already dark outside. The beauty of the Manhattan skyline draws me, and I move to the wall-to-ceiling windows to appreciate it.
The gnawing in my belly reminds me that I skipped lunch, and the silence around me makes the growling in my stomach unnaturally loud. The cafe on my floor would be closed by now, but I know there’s a well-stocked kitchen on the top floor, which Sajid had mentioned we were welcome to raid if we ever found ourselves working late.
I head to the top floor. “Olympus” I mutter wryly. It’s dark and graveyard silent when I step out of the elevator.
The lights don’t automatically come on as with other floors, but there’s enough light from the full moon’s reflection through the glass walls into the airy space for me to make my way down the wide corridor into the kitchen. I hit the lights once I reach inside the kitchen.
The huge fridge is a snacker’s paradise. Sandwiches, chocolates, salads, and fresh fruits and juices. I giggle excitedly as I select a Caesar salad and a bottle of apple juice, then head to the breakfast bar.
I’m contentedly munching on my food when the door suddenly swings open.
Ethan fills the doorway. He doesn’t move from the threshold for long moments.
My mouth goes dry as my heart starts to pound. It seems like ages since I last saw him. He looks good.Like, really good.
He’s wearing a casual loose hoodie, and his hair is damp, as if he’s freshly showered.
Does he really live here?
The last time I saw him was at the interview.
“Hey, boss,” I say with a cheeriness I don’t feel because my belly is quivering madly. He slowly steps over the threshold but doesn’t move further in. He instead leans against the door and averts his face.
“What are you still doing here?” His tone is harsh and almost angry. His posturing seems a little unusual and he’s not making eye contact.
“Eating. I thought we could stay as long as we wanted. Unless you’d like to kick me out.”
When he continues to lean on the door, I start to pack up. “What, you can’t even stand to be in the same room with a lowly employee? Hey, it’s okay. I can go.”
“No, stay,” he commands.
Before I can decide if I appreciate his tone, he turns around abruptly and leaves the room.
Wow. What a jerk.
I look around the massive room. He could literally have done cartwheels in the large kitchen, and he wouldn’t even be in my personal space. Still, he wouldn’t look at me and left the moment he saw me.
It hurts. More than I care to admit.
I need to leave. I dump the half-eaten salad I’ve lost all appetite for in the trash and grab my juice bottle when the kitchen door swings open for the second time, and Ethan comes back in again. This time, with his glasses on. He moves to the coffee machine.
He’s my boss but I’m too hurt and angry to not say anything.
“What was that about, Harvard? Did you run to get permission from outer space before interacting with another human being? Like you can’t act normal unless you’ve got those alien goggles on?”
“I’m not in the mood for your snarkiness tonight, Bonnie.” He growls, not sparing me a look.
“Do you even realize how horrible you’ve been to me?”
Actually, apart from the nice message he sent earlier today, he’s not had any contact with me since I started, so it’s probably not a fair or accurate accusation. The more apt word is that I feel ignored. But then, that’s not something I can complain to my boss about, is it?
“I see. Well, I apologize if I’ve come across that way.” His words sound condescending at best.
“Save it. It’s not like you plan to change.”
“Is this about the interview, Bonnie?” he asks softly. “You mean someone finally pointed out to you that there are some things you don’t know?”
“That is so not what this is about!” I reply hotly.
It is about the interview. And also the fact that he’d rather fling himself off a balcony than talk to me.
“Why then have you been obsessively working on correcting that imperfection and learning the Xerif programming language?”
“Don’t mistake my drive to make myself better for obsessing over your comments. I don’t care what you think.”
“Okay, so what’s this accusation about then? I treat you the same as everyone else,” he claims.
I gasp. “Really! I just checked my schedule. Do you know how many training sessions I have scheduled with you? Zero! How much more obvious could you be?”
He whirls on me, pinning me with his gaze for what feels like ages, and then he says in a voice that has suddenly grown husky, “You want me to train you?”
I can’t see his eyes beyond the damn glasses, but it sounds like he’s asking me something else.
“I couldn’t care less, I just don’t want to be treated like a leper.”
“Alright, Bonnie.” He advances toward me. He’s huge, and I instinctively take a few steps back until I’m trapped between the breakfast bar and his solid chest. My heart skips a few beats then starts to pound.
“Can you sheath your tongue long enough to take instructions?”
Wow. I can’t believe the nerve of this man. “Since being dumb and stupid is a requirement to make you feel like a leader, Harvard, I’ll take a freaking pass on your ‘training’.”
He says nothing. In the silence, I hear my erratic breathing.
Why the hell am I panting?
I don’t know for how long we stand like that, but it’s only when he licks his lips and a jolt goes through me that I realize that I’ve been staring at his mouth.
He slowly puts his coffee on the counter beside me, and I feel his eyes all over me, but all I see when I look at him is the reflection of my flushed face. My lips are tingling. What is he looking at? I need to see his eyes.
“Take them off.” My voice comes out breathy. He doesn’t move, so I raise my hand to his face and drag off the glasses.
He takes them from my hand, leaving them on the counter beside his coffee.
God, I love his eyes. Staring into depths of his irises, I now get why my skin prickles and heats when his gaze is directed at me. They’re scorching hot. And what I see in them right now is like a shot of heroin in my veins.
He’s squinting, but looking at me like he never wants to stop. Like I’m the most exciting thing he’s ever seen. Like he’s trying to read my innermost thoughts. I’ve never been looked at like that before. It’s exhilarating and scary. And incredibly arousing. My nipples tighten, and a delicious throbbing starts deep in my pelvis.
It’s happening again. This arrogant, infuriating man is turning me on. Still, he says nothing, he just continues to burn me up with his heated gaze.
Then slowly, very slowly, a large hand covers my white-knuckled fist, which I didn’t realize was so tightly clenched on the counter. He coaxes my palm open, and his other hand lifts to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking over my tingling lips.
I feel completely surrounded by him, dwarfed by his size, my senses overwhelmed by his smell, his heat, and his hands on me. I’m drowning in him, every nerve ending feeling raw and hyperaware.
Without saying a single word, he’s woven a spell on me. His hand over mine tightens, his fingers weaving through mine. I gasp. It’s too much. Too intimate. Like he’s just thrust inside me.
Tendrils of panic coil inside me.
The moment his gaze falls on my lips again, I feel like I’m free-falling.
He’s going to kiss me.
My panic escalates. I desperately want his mouth on mine but I’m also terrified that if he kisses me, what I’m feeling will spiral out of control.
Suddenly, I snatch my hand away from his and bat his other hand away from my face. Ignoring the confusion on his face, I switch places and push him back, so he’s now the one trapped against the breakfast bar. I reach up to dig my fingers in his thick hair and roughly yank his head down to me while going up on my toes to crush my lips to his.
Only, he rears back as if I was a snake that suddenly uncoiled and leaped at him. My mouth lands somewhere on his jaw instead, and then he’s moving away from the breakfast bar and taking a few steps backward.
I move to follow him, but he holds his hands up to ward me off.
“It’s okay, Ethan,” I try to reassure him.
“Bonnie?” He whispers, looking at me strangely.
My heart is still pounding but I stop advancing on him. What the fuck am I doing?
“What just happened?”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Aren’t you? The voice in my head taunts. I shake it off
“You were going to kiss me.” I say inanely.
Actually no, I tried to kiss you, and you swerved. Awesome.
I literally threw myself at Ethan Hawthorne, my boss, the one guy I can’t stand. All because he looked at me.
And he recoiled… in disgust?
“I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.” Ethan says in a flat tone. He looks like he wants to say more but instead drags his hand through his hair, pulling tight and huffing out a breath.
He’s sorry. Yep, regret is written all over him.
And I’m suffocating on my mortification. He’d invaded my personal space and I thought I read interest in his eyes.
Not just interest. Toe-curling, sheet-clawing sex.
But maybe I was wrong, after all, what do I know of those things? “No, I-I’m. sorry. I should go.”
I grab my juice and start to leave the kitchen.
“Bonnie, hold on. Are you okay?”He sounds concerned.
“Yeah, are you?” I toss the retort over my shoulder.
He only huffs a breath. “Sure.”
“Awesome.” I leave the kitchen. I refuse to process what just happened. I return to my office, shut down my computer, and leave on my motorbike. It’s not until I’m safely in my apartment, nursing a glass of wine that I let my thoughts go.
What I felt in those moments of Ethan holding my hand and touching my face was infinitely more than anything I’ve felt during sex.
Ever.
I was unraveling and I needed to get back some control.
Of course, I couldn’t tell him that. He’d think I was mad.
There’s a chance he already thinks I am with the way I switched on him, and I’m sure I’ve just shown Ethan one of the many reasons why I shouldn’t have one-on-one training with him.