Page 12 of Defensive Hero
“Quit? What are you talking about?”
“You want to quit, don’t you?” Her brows draw in confusion. “Why else are you standing out here looking as if you are scared to walk in.”
Oh.
Oh, right.
She doesn’t know. Of course, no one but Wilson and I know about what happened last night. There is no need to be paranoid about it.
I chuckle, the sound a little dry, but that could be because I haven’t had my daily dose of caffeine. “I’m not going to quit, Martha. I like working for Mr. Hile.”
“That’s a relief,” she sighs. “I don’t want to even think about looking for a replacement for you if you decide to quit.”
Replacement. It goes without saying that someone would fill my spot if I were to quit, but for some reason, that doesn’t sit right with me. Someone else working for Wilson, bringing him his coffee and pastries, smiling at him, or lying across his desk as he kisses every inch of someone else’s body.
I am someone else’s replacement, and my spot could easily be occupied by another girl. Does that mean Wilson was involved with his previous assistant too? Was she…experienced? Did he like her better than me?
Christ, I have so many questions stemming from my insecurities, but I can’t exactly voice them to Martha in case I raise suspicion, so I decide to push them down.
“We should probably head in,” Martha says, patting my shoulder and walking in. I follow behind her, my thoughts on my boss as I make my way up the stairs toward Wilson’s office. I drop my things at my desk and walk to his door.
I wonder how I should play it. Pretend that last night never happened, or sit down and talk to him about it? Whatever else, I need to walk in there and hand the man his coffee.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock softly at the door and give it a solid five seconds before walking in, and one look at the man seated behind his massive desk, and I lose my train of thought. It never ceases to amaze me how much power and authority this man can exude even when he’s not doing much. He’s just seated there, flipping through a file I don’t recognize.
Wilson is dressed in a jet-black shirt that accentuates his chiseled features. As usual, his light brown hair is combed back, every hair held in place, and I am reminded once again of last night when his hair was a mess from my own fingers running through it.
I stand there, just staring at the man and trying to ignore the dull throb between my legs. This office brings back memories of last night, and a part of me almost expects him to tell me to strip once more.
Would I do it?
Maybe.If he ordered me to. I never imagined I’d love surrendering to a man the way that I do my boss.
“Sir,” I call out, my voice coming out breathy, and I almost regret doing so as his eyes shoot to mine, those icy blues making it hard for me to walk right, and I almost trip on my way to him. “Your breakfast. Miss Annie packed English muffins for you this time.”
The man simply nods, so I place everything on the table and turn around to leave, fighting to hide my disappointment at his dismissal, but then he calls out to me. I don’t realize how much I miss the sound of my first name on his lips until he speaks. “Miss Beck?”
I turn back around to face him, quickly dropping my eyes when it proves too hard to maintain contact, except, well, my eyes land on his desk. The same spot I was in last night, writhing helplessly as he brought me to orgasm.
“About what happened last night…” My eyes shoot to his. Are we really going to talk about it? “I believe I can trust you to be discreet about it, correct?”
I stare at the man, blinking in rapid succession at his words. I mean, I wasn’t going to talk about it with anyone, but why does his request leave a bitter taste in my mouth? “I’ll keep it to myself,” I say, suddenly anxious to leave his office.
“Good, we don’t need another lawsuit on our hands.”
Another lawsuit?
Did he… I must’ve heard him wrong. There is no way he said that. Has he done this before with some other girl? Did she take him to court, and is that what he is afraid I’m going to do?
“Right,” I mutter. “Excuse me.”
This time, I don’t wait for his condescending nod before leaving. Okay, maybe it’s not meant to be condescending, but at the moment, it feels that way. I want so badly to slam his door on my way out, but I remind myself I am mature and need to act like a professional.
“You weren’t being professional when you had his tongue in your mouth,” snarks a voice at the back of my mind, but I block it out. Or at least I try to.
My sour mood stays for the rest of the day, and I try to avoid Wilson as much as I can. There is the meeting looming over my head though, and as the time draws nearer, I consider pretending to be sick so I can avoid going anywhere with Wilson.
I wouldn’t want the man to feel threatened by the looming thought of a possible lawsuit. Jesus Christ, what would I even sue him for? Sure, I know sexual relationships are banned at the firm, and it was stipulated in the contract that I signed, but exposing this relationship would tarnish my reputation more than it would his.