12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Tage
It’s impossible to do my job when Lane keeps looking at me like he wants to devour me. I think he always looked at me like that, and it was easier to ignore him before. Or maybe it wasn’t as intense.
We’ve been back from the trip for a week now, and each day I’ve come to the office I expect these butterflies to vacate my insides. But it seems they’re breeding. I don’t have time to deal with butterflies, yet here I am.
“How about lunch today?” Lane asks as he half-sits on my desk.
I look away from my computer and meet his gaze. Automatically, I want to say no. But would it be so terrible to go out with this man for lunch? He’s been asking me for weeks. We had a good weekend together, meals included, but what does this mean for us? For me?
I don’t know if this is worth the risk.
“I don’t know…”
“Come on,” he says, then leans in close. “What harm could it do?”
All the harm.
Ruin my life.
Well, the life I’m starting to build.
I finally have a job all on my own. I’m earning money. I’m buying my own things.
I have an apartment that I bought every piece of furniture for—and am still buying, because I’m not even close to being done yet.
I pay my bills—all on my own.
I am taking pride in all of this. And what happens if this becomes… something?
“I’ve been asking myself that exact question,” I say.
“And?”
“There is a very long list of things.”
“Tage—”
“I’m just saying…” I get to my feet. “Don’t act like this is harmless. Just because you won’t feel the fall, doesn’t mean I won’t.”
His eyes narrow. “Who said anything about falling?”
“It’s inevitable, Lane. We both know it. Now come on. Before I change my mind.”
I grab everything I need and head out the door. It takes a moment for him to follow me, but eventually he does. Catching up easily.
We ride the elevator down and I let him lead the way once we’re in the lobby.
The security officer waves us off as we pass by and go outside, turning the corner toward where the restaurants are.
“Where are we going?” I ask, needing to speak because the silence feels weird after the note I left it on inside.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll know when I see it.”
“You’re one of those.”
“One of those?” he glances at me.
“Gets joy out of being spontaneous at the worst times.”
“The rest of my life is pure routine and mostly controlled by you.”
“I don’t control your life; I just keep it organized.”
“Right. And this,” he gestures around us, “is a nice break from all of that.” He looks at me. “You don’t agree?”
“I don’t know.” I scratch the back of my neck as we stop at the crosswalk and wait for the light to tell us to walk. “I like knowing what to expect, but on my own terms.”
“So you like being in control.”
“Don’t we all?”
“No, actually.” He laughs. “Plenty of people do not enjoy being in control, and they seek out a partner to give that control, too.”
“You’re talking like BDSM stuff?”
“Sure, but it doesn’t have to be labeled that way. It could simply be two people’s personalities.”
I nod in understanding. “Why are you so okay with it?”
“I’m not sure. I guess… I’m still in control.”
“How?”
“I tell you what I want, you do it. You’re taking the lead, but under my word.”
“But I could choose to go against you.”
“That’s where trust comes in.”
The light turns, and we and a group of other people walk across the road.
“Guess I don’t trust anyone enough then.”
It’s not something I didn’t know about myself, I’ve just never really said it out loud to someone before.
“It’s not easy,” he says with a shake of his head.
“Seems easy for you.”
“Not to sound like an asshole, but nothing you could do can touch me.”
“Ah, so there it is. It’s fake trust.”
“No, I mean, you could cause some damage. But not enough to ruin me.”
“You have enough power to not worry about other people, which means you’re always in control. You’re not really giving it up.”
“I give up some things.”
“It’s hard to compare when we’re in two very different positions, Lane.”
“I suppose you’re right.” He says it in a way that doesn’t make me feel weird about it, which is a surprise. Typically, this is something that’s touchy for me, but… his tone is almost comforting. I don’t feel like he’s being condescending.
And I guess that’s what sets him apart from all the other rich assholes I’ve met.
He’s never, not once, ever looked at me or spoken to me like I was less than him.
That’s it. That’s the thing that’s different about him. The thing I couldn’t put my finger on before. It’s just that simple. He doesn’t talk to me like I’m a piece of shit because I don’t have millions.
That… has me feeling differently toward him. Fondly.
And the sex is good.
No, it’s great.
I think about it often. I do wonder what it would be like to be bent over his desk… or hiding under it and choking on his cock while he’s in a virtual meeting.
I can’t help it. It’s like a fantasy of mine or something—being in public and about to get caught? Yeah, that’s kind of hot.
This is weird. I shouldn’t be thinking these things about him—I told myself I wouldn’t. But I can’t help it. He’s just—”
“Tage?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you like boba tea.”
“Boba tea?” I ask, then I laugh. A little too hard.
Lane stares at me, confused. “I don’t see why that’s funny.”
I wipe tears from my eyes. “You drinking boba tea?”
I laugh more, curling forward because what?
“I still don’t see what’s so funny.”
“Sorry, sorry,” I say, trying to get myself together.
“There are other options if you find boba tea too ridiculous,” he says seriously, which only makes me want to laugh more, but I try to keep myself together because now people are starting to stare. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. But I am. I don’t like causing attention.
I take a deep breath, letting it out. “Sorry, really. Boba tea is great. But they do have food, right?” I look around, trying to figure out which storefront he’s looking at.
“Yes, they have food.”
“Lead the way.” I gesture in front of us, and he points at the store we’re standing directly in front of.
“It’s literally right here.”
“Oh…”
“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Seriously.” I pull the door open, and we step inside. It’s a mix of sweet and savory with a hint of floral. The place is small; a quick-eating type of place with a handful of small tables.
There is a short line, so we get into it and I look over the menu as we wait our turn to order.
I get a shrimp poke bowl, and he gets a sampler sushi plate. I get brown sugar boba tea, and he gets the strawberry. Thinking about him drinking something so… not him, still makes me want to laugh, but I keep it together because there are people eating and I don’t want to disturb them.
We sit together and eat our meal, making small talk about the office and the area. It feels too normal, and that’s making me uncomfortable. But then we’re done, and it’s time to go back to work.
Work is easy. Work I can do.