Taming Her Boss Part 4

"Let me guess," she whispers, her voice rough with some sort of emotion. I want to say it's l.u.s.t, but I can't be sure. "Meeting?"

"In my office."

"Fine."

The doors slide open and Olivia storms away, slippers whispering across the blue carpet as she disappears around the corner into her office. I follow after her, straightening my tie and keeping my gaze narrowed ahead of me. Employees scatter out of the way like rats as I sweep past and push open the wooden doors to my office. She's going to actually go in there, read the email, and wait until the precise time that I mentioned. I just know it. Anyone else and they'd have scurried in here, following in my wake, desperate to please me.

Olivia seems determined to p.i.s.s me off.

I perch on the edge of my desk, cross my arms over my chest, and check my watch.

Exactly seven minutes until the time I specified in the email, the one I sent while we sat back to back in the Chinese restaurant and ignored one another. Well, she ignored me. I was painfully aware of her presence.

I tap my foot on the carpet, ankles crossed, waiting.

Seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds later, Olivia knocks on my door.

"Come in," I say through gritted teeth. For seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds, I've had an erection stabbing against the inside of my slacks. Not exactly the most comfortable position to maintain.

"Mr. Lyndon," Olivia says with a faux smile on her face. "You wanted to see me?" She slides in through the double doors and pauses there with a stack of papers under her arm. I notice that she's traded out the slippers for proper shoes not heels this time but black loafers. Interesting.

I smile back at her, and she frowns.

"Yes, actually," I say, wishing I had chairs in here, so I could tell her to take a seat. But no. My office is arranged in exactly the same way as my father's sterile, empty, designed with the express purpose of intimidation. I uncross my ankles and stand up straight, moving around to the other side of my desk. I didn't want to bring the contract here I never know when my father or grandfather might show up but I didn't feel like I had much of a choice. After our failed dinner date, I doubt I'll be able to get Olivia's attention outside of the office.

I pull a key from my pocket and unlock the bottom drawer of my desk, withdrawing the briefcase and rising to my feet.

"No," Olivia states, shaking her head. "Haven't you ever heard the phrase no means no, Lex?"

"Oh, so we're back to using Lex again?" I say as I toss the briefcase on my desk and wish I could do the same with Miss Ashcraft or even vice versa. I wouldn't mind if she pushed me back onto the gleaming wood surface and rode me like an animal. In fact, I'm praying that she will as soon as she accepts my contract, of course. "Your false sense of formality faded rather quickly. Are we already done playing games?"

She grits her teeth at me, face reddening with frustration. She tried to hold back the anger when I first confronted her on Friday, but I can see that her patience with me is wearing thin. Good. When patience fades, so do inhibitions.

"The only person playing games here is you. Look, I don't know what your angle is, but you'd better back off or a hastily signed NDA won't be enough to save your a.s.s from public humiliation." I raise my eyebrow and let go of the briefcase, taking a step towards her. Olivia watches me approach and takes a deep breath, relaxing the hand that's hanging by her side until it's no longer balled into a fist.

"Is that a threat?" I whisper, moving closer, letting our loafers b.u.mp toes. Olivia looks down and then up at my face, her own stoic and deceptively peaceful. I can smell the rage brewing behind the sweet scent of her perfume. When she doesn't answer, I reach around her and flick the deadbolt on my door. The last thing I need is for my secretary to come storming in here on some unimportant errand. I won't be interrupted right now, not when I'm so close I can taste it. "Why does the money even matter? You nearly had s.e.x with me against your front door on Friday. Would it really make that much of a difference if I was padding your bank accounts to do so?"

"It would make all the difference," Olivia says, keeping her voice calm. She's managed to reign her emotions in for the moment, but I have a feeling that if I push, she'll snap again. My own frustration is bubbling up inside my chest, but I ignore it. If I get angry with her now, she'll simply walk away. Other ... tactics are in order. "If I f.u.c.ked you, it would simply be because I wanted to."

"You're in luck then," I say, reaching into my back pocket and coming up with a condom. "Because this time, I came prepared." I grab Olivia around the waist and pull her against me, sending her stack of papers fluttering to the floor around us. As I dip my head for a kiss, her hand comes up and cracks me hard across the cheek.

To say I'm shocked would be an understatement.

"Go f.u.c.k yourself, Lex," she growls at me, kneeing me precariously close to the family jewels. The condom drops from my hand as she struggles in my arms and ends up pulling me against her. Our bodies slam into the polished mahogany wood of my office doors, pressing us even closer together not exactly her intention, I'm sure.

A moan escapes her throat, a velvety growl that makes the hair on my arms stand straight up.

I look down at her angry eyes, glimmering like emeralds in the pale softness of her face. The rage shimmering there is at complete odds with the gentle parting of her lips. I don't even pretend to understand her mood or where she's coming from. Obviously, I've completely bungled this situation between us from moment one. I wanted a strong, powerful woman to take control, but maybe the very thing that I so desire is exactly what will keep me from my goal? How could I ever get a woman like this to sign a contract like that?

I revert back to my usual pattern of domination, intimidation and control. It's all I've ever known.

"You're an infuriating little twit, Miss Ashcraft," I growl, trying to extract myself from the tangle of limbs she unwittingly created by trying to kick me in the b.a.l.l.s.

"And you're a misogynistic, self-centered a.s.s hat," she snaps back at me, placing her palms against my chest and shoving at me with a surprising amount of strength.

"a.s.s hat?" I scoff, finally freeing myself from the aura of angry heat that's doing its best to envelop us both. "An insult that showcases not only your lack of education, but also your indescribably conscientious character."

Olivia's mouth parts in shock before she narrows her eyes on me and tears one of the black loafers from her feet. The shoe comes flying at my head and just barely manages to miss my face.

"I went to Yale, you son of a b.i.t.c.h!"

I grit my teeth and squeeze my hands into fists by my sides.

"You are f.u.c.king fired, Miss Ashcraft," I snarl, running my tongue over my lips to keep back an angry spray of spittle. There are some things I refuse to inherit from my father. "Get out of my office!"

Olivia ignores me and bends down, gathering up the scattered spray of papers from the floor.

"Did you not hear me?" I ask, moving a few steps forward and putting the toe of my shoe atop one of her precious pages. "You are fired."

She rises to her feet, unfolding from her crouched position like a fiery haired demon. I hate how turned on I am, but I can't help but think, if she's this angry on the outside, what will she feel like on the inside?

"You can't fire me," Olivia snarls, her mouth so close to mine that I can taste the words on her breath. "Because I quit." She turns away and I follow after, grabbing her by her upper arm with carefully tense fingers.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out," I snap, releasing her and watching as she flicks the deadbolt and disappears from sight, the wood doors of my office swinging in her wake. I close my eyes and take a deep breath to calm myself, the scent of her perfume lingering enticingly on my collar.

After a moment, I turn back towards my desk and grab hold of the briefcase with the contract in it. What was I thinking when I went after this woman? What modern woman in her right mind would sign an agreement like this? Not a single one that I'd be interested in.

I open the briefcase and pull the papers out, fully prepared to run them through the shredder when Claudia saunters into my office wearing red heels and a scandalously short skirt. I barely pay her a glance over my shoulder, turning back to the contract and staring at Olivia's name printed across the top. My chest is rising and falling with rapid breaths as I try desperately to regain some self-control. I've never had this problem before; self-control is something that a Lyndon is born with. It runs in his veins like blood. It is absolutely essential to our survival as both a company and a family.

"One of your employees just went limping by with only one shoe on," she says, stepping up to me and putting a hand on my arm. I glance over at her and she startles when she sees the expression on my face. Claudia immediately withdraws her hand and takes a step back. It'd be so easy to f.u.c.k her right now. h.e.l.l, I wouldn't have to hit on her. I could tell her to bend over this desk and lift her skirt, and she'd do it. Willingly. With a f.u.c.king smile on her face.

"Get out of my office, and don't come in without knocking. The next time you do, you're fired."

Claudia blinks stupidly at me for a moment before retreating, stepping over the scattered papers and closing the doors behind her. I scowl and shake my head, moving around to sit in my office chair before I glance back down at the contract again. Just thinking about Olivia is enough to keep my c.o.c.k hard enough to cut diamond.

I unzip my slacks, close my eyes, and lean my head back, sliding my fingers down my shaft, letting my breath spill from my lips in a rush. Oh yes. Anger is a powerful aphrodisiac, and I surrender to it the way I wish I could surrender to Olivia. Perhaps it isn't in me? I want to give myself up, let her take control of me, but even if she agreed, I find that my reaction to her alpha female is to stay an alpha male. Oh well. In my imagination, at least, I can pretend that Olivia is straddling me in my office chair, her head thrown back, that vibrant hair spilling down the darkness of her suit jacket. In my mind's eye, I see her throat work as she swallows back a moan, tries desperately to pretend that our interactions mean nothing to her. I don't say a word, letting her rock her hips against my c.o.c.k, take her pleasure, use me until she's satisfied.

"Olivia," I whisper, squeezing my hand around my d.i.c.k hard enough to hurt.

"Are you f.u.c.king serious right now?" she snaps, her lips red rouged and parted in my dream. But not talking. In my imagination, Olivia Ashcraft hasn't said a word. Which means ...

My gaze snaps open to find her standing before me, emerald eyes sharp with anger, lips twisted to the side in disgust. She has her discarded loafer in one hand and a sardonic expression on her face that sends the fires of fury burning in me again.

"Don't you people know how to KNOCK?!" I roar, exploding from my chair in a ball of fury. I grab Olivia by the arm and push her back, knocking her legs against my desk. I don't squeeze hard, gritting my teeth to keep my temper in check. The last thing I need is a bruised former employee, last seen limping from my office especially one who now knows a secret not a single other person on this earth is privy to.

"I had to get my shoe," she growls back at me, shaking her arm from my grip. "I'm going to need it for my upcoming job interviews." She pauses, her gaze drawing downward. Neither of us misses the fact that my erect c.o.c.k is caught between us. "Unless you want to, you know, keep it as a souvenir."

"Get out of my office," I snarl, precariously close to flipping her over this desk and f.u.c.king her until she screams my name. She'd like it, too. We both would. Olivia shakes her head like she's disappointed in me and turns away, unwittingly brushing her body against my rigid c.o.c.k. A shudder runs through me, but I make no move to go after her. The air between us is poisoned now, and there's no salvaging it.

I tuck myself back into my slacks and watch as Olivia Olsen Ashcraft walks through my office doors and out of my life forever.

"That arrogant piece of s.h.i.t!" I shout, pacing back and forth in my living room. My blistered feet are absolutely killing me, but I can't seem to sit still for more than a moment before the rage takes over and I start to quiver. Fight or flight has kicked in and all I want to do with Lex Lyndon is fight, fight, fight. I s.n.a.t.c.h the wine bottle off my coffee table, clutching it by the neck and completely ignoring the gla.s.s I set down beside it.

"You might have to start from the beginning again," Maxi says, adjusting herself on my couch and watching as I lift the bottle of wine to my lips. If some of the liquid dribbles down my chin and trails across my chest, my friend doesn't say anything, clearing her throat and watching me carefully. "Lex wanted to ... pay you to have s.e.x with him?" she clarifies for the third or fourth time this evening. Not that I blame her, of course, since the entire story sounded so f.u.c.king preposterous spewing from my lips that I hardly believed it myself. My first instinct when I walked out of that office the second time anyway was to call the moms and declare war on Alexander Lyndon. Fortunately, Maxi intercepted my path towards the elevator doors and managed to calm me down enough that I held off on calling my parents. The second they hear the story the full story they're going to freak the f.u.c.k out. Oh, and whoop my a.s.s for signing an NDA. And then breaking it.

"Ahh." I grab my head with the hand that's not clutching the wine bottle for dear life and groan before sinking to my knees on the white carpet. I lift the precious alcohol to my lips for another swig. "I'm thirty years old and the best thing I can come up with to punish Alexander is to call my moms."

Maxi rises from her seat on the couch and flops down on the ground next to me, trying and failing to pry the wine bottle from my fingers. She finally settles for grabbing my wrist and forcing me to pour her another gla.s.s.

"To be fair, they can be pretty intimidating." Maxi stares down at the empty span of carpet between us and lets her eyes glaze over with thoughts of Carol and June most likely she's thinking of that time when we were in tenth grade health and the teacher started us on an abstinence only program. Dear G.o.d, the s.h.i.t storm that ensued when June happened to glance down at my health homework was legendary. The memory's actually enough to further convince me that I should keep the rest of my interactions with Alexander Lyndon to myself.

"Maxi," I whine, slapping myself in the forehead with the heel of my hand. "I can't get the sight of him jacking off to me out of my head."

"Hey, Lex is a beautiful man. I don't blame you for that. Keep the memory close and keep the real thing far, far away." She pauses and takes a sip of her wine, picking at the carpet fibers with her pale pink nails. "Though I am going to miss you like crazy at the office. Who the h.e.l.l am I going to eat c.r.a.ppy Asian takeout with? Everybody else in the accounting department is gluten-free and obsessed with quinoa." We exchange pouty expressions and then lean over for a wine drenched hug. When I pull back, there's a shimmer of tears in Maxi's eyes.

"Hey. It's time to forget this whole f.u.c.king fiasco and just focus on the positive. We've got to start talking about my next career move, or this whole evening's going to fail the Bechdel test."

"The Bechdel test?" Maxi asks as I lean back and look up at the ceiling with a sigh. Taking revenge on Lex and his domineering alpha male a.s.s sure would be nice, but it won't do anything for me. Maybe I should consider this entire incident a blessing? It wasn't like I actually enjoyed working for Lyndon Realty Trust. I mean, I have a freaking master of fine arts degree. The only reason I even got hired by the Lyndons was because Maxi referred me to them. Let's just say, my heart is not in real estate investments.

"Yeah, you know, does the work of fiction you're enjoying have at least two named female characters? Do they talk to each other? And do they talk to each other about something other than men?" I drop my gaze down to Maxi with a wink and a smile.

"The more you know," she says, raising her gla.s.s. After a moment of hesitation, I lift the wine bottle up and click it against hers. "But still, n.o.body could rightfully blame us for failing the Bechdel test in this case. How often does one's billionaire boss offer up a contract that pays them to effectively beat his a.s.s in the bedroom?"

"Not often, I'd guess," I say, finishing off the last few drops of my wine. I kiss the label of the empty bottle, a 2011 Altamura Cabernet Sauvignon that I've been saving for a special occasion. Getting fired from a job that pays six figures practically requires a hundred dollar bottle of wine especially considering the circ.u.mstances. "It still feels so surreal, you know?" I glance over at the couch and spot the crumpled business card that Lex so kindly tucked between my cheeks on Friday night. I can't even freaking believe I almost slept with that a.s.shole. What a mistake that would've been.

"Were you tempted?" Maxi asks, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially, despite the fact that we're alone in the townhouse. With the light outside the window dimming and the living room falling into darkness, it almost feels like we're sharing secrets at a slumber party. Her pale green eyes sparkle as she rakes her fingers through her blonde hair and leans in close. "I mean, just a little bit?"

The urge to vehemently rail against her implied accusations rises in me, but I bite back the lie. What's the point? Sitting here in the hushed dark, it doesn't seem like such a big deal to admit the truth, even if the very thought makes me grit my teeth in anger. I glance away and stare at the white baseboards that line the wall.

"Lex is hot. He wanted me to beat the c.r.a.p out of him. He wanted to pay me millions of dollars for the privilege. Of course I was tempted."

"Then why not just go for it?"

I turn back to Maxi with a slow smile spreading across my face. Despite the fact that I was fired today, I feel like I obtained some sort of little victory over Lex's spoiled a.s.s.

"Pride," I tell Maxi as I lean back and stretch my legs out in front of me. "And dignity. Two things that I have that Lex can no longer lay claim to. And no matter what happens, he can't take either of those things away from me."

The next morning, I wake up at a disturbingly late hour and it feels f.u.c.king great. I stretch my arms toward the ceiling and sigh in contented pleasure. I can't even remember the last time I was able to sleep in past nine. Even on weekends, I have recurring Sat.u.r.day breakfast meetings with my family (followed, of course, by communal trips to the farmers' market to buy organic produce) and Sundays full of errands and halfhearted workout attempts. Today, Tuesday, there's nothing laid out for me. Well, other than trying to find a new job before my savings run out. What would it be like to have millions in the bank? To never have to work another day in my life? I could pay my parents' house off, get Craig a pad of his own to share with his coterie of freethinking lovers, travel the world.

"Ugh," I grab a pillow and clutch it tight to my face. Entertaining fantasies like that will get me nowhere. I'd rather commit hara-kiri than sign that f.u.c.king contract for Lex. If you're not aware of the practice, it's basically suicide via disembowelment. Sounds fun, right? Even for a couple hundred million bucks, I am n.o.body's wh.o.r.e. Sorry, Lex. There should be women lining up around the block for this position, so why did he choose me? That, I suppose, will have to remain a mystery. If I can help it, I'll never speak to the man again.

I toss the pillow aside and fling the covers back, wrenching the curtains open and smiling as I take in yet another gray, fog-drenched day (and a man walking down the street in a.s.s-less chaps). Hey, people, this is San Francisco. If you can't appreciate the fog rolling in off the bay (or men in a.s.s-less chaps), move somewhere else.

Despite the desperate urge I have to curl up on the couch with a crime thriller novel and read away the day, I force myself into the shower. Whilst entrenched in soapy, warm wetness, I may or may not touch a finger or two to the sorely neglected spot between my legs. If I think of furiously riding Lex Lyndon while I do it, n.o.body has to be the wiser.

When I climb out, I dress in a comfortable pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that says Alpha Female, enjoying the feeling of cotton and old denim against my skin. G.o.d, I hate suits. I was definitely born more suited to be a penniless artist than a middle cla.s.s corporate goon. Oh well. Maybe if I play my cards right, I'll never have to wear a suit again? I might have to move in with the moms, but hey, at least they have a place in Balboa Terrace. I could lounge on their deck and mess around with oil and canvas with sunshine kissing the bare skin of my legs through the holes in my ugliest pair of jeans.

I smile as I run my fingers through my wet hair and descend the stairs into the dining room. A quick check of my cell shows a missed call from an unknown number. Right away, I suspect Lex, narrowing my eyes at the screen as I pull up my voice mail.

Only it's not Lex.

It's a woman claiming to be the secretary for the head of HR at Oceanstar Capital Group. Somehow, word of my departure from Lyndon Realty Trust has reached her boss' ears, and she'd like me to come interview for a position within their company. The entire situation smacks of Maxi's handiwork. I end the message and immediately dial up my best friend, using her office line to ensure I get through.

"Don't be mad," she tells me, answering the phone without even a simple h.e.l.lo. "You're calling because you talked to Oceanstar, right? Please tell me you talked to Oceanstar. I've been offered positions there before, but I've always turned them down because I liked hanging out with you at the office. Since you're not here anymore, I figured I'd make a few calls."

"Maxi," I say, but she's not done yet.

"I told them I was willing to transfer, but on one condition: I take you with me. The interview's just a formality, Oli. If you want the job, it's yours."

"Maxi." Another interruption.

"Don't think you have to do this just for me though. Think it through, give the idea some time to simmer. I mean, it's not like I don't thoroughly enjoy watching Lex storm around the office in a purple faced rage, but it can be kind of disconcerting. At least when he screams at me, he doesn't spray me with spittle like his father used to do. Gross." So the boss is in a rage, huh? Not unusual for him, but I can't stop myself from smiling anyway. I wonder what his problem is today? Couldn't have anything to do with little old me, could it? I can't stop my mind from summoning the image of him with his fingers wrapped tight around his ma.s.sive c.o.c.k, the way my name slipped out from between his lips. Lex Lyndon is so f.u.c.king into me. I smirk.

Stupid a.s.shole.

I realize absently that while I'm fantasizing about my ex-boss' horse d.i.c.k, Maxi's still talking up a storm in the background.

"Maxi," I start again, but she's in one of her moods where she won't stop talking because she's afraid to hear what the person she's talking to is trying to say.

"Oceanstar Capital Group is a direct compet.i.tor of Lyndon Realty Trust." This much I do know. Despite what Lex might think of me, I am very proficient at my job. Or I was. I frown. "Oh, and Lex's father and grandfather have been courting the Caliper family for years. If they could get Lex and Lara together, it would be like uniting two major kingdoms during a medieval war. Barbaric, right? But it's true." I wrinkle my brow and try to decipher Maxi's babbling.

"Lara?" I ask, feeling like I should recognize that name. Maxi sighs.

"Lara Caliper. Dear Jesus, Olivia, please tell me you know that name. Voted Fortune's Most Powerful Woman in Business three years running."

Oh. That Lara Caliper. Current CEO of Oceanstar Capital.

"But I thought Lex didn't have any romantic prospects?" I hate the strange little thrill that runs through my veins. If I didn't know any better, I might say I was jealous. Gross. f.u.c.k, if Lara wants Lex, she can have him and his nasty att.i.tude.

Maxi snorts at me.

"He didn't until the two of you started up your romantic attachment to one another on Friday. I don't think he has any intention of marrying Lara, but wouldn't it be cool to work for his direct compet.i.tor? A family the Lyndons have been trying to absorb into their fold for years?"

"Lex and I do not have a romantic attachment, Maxi."

"Not after everything he's done, no, but there was the possibility of one."

"Maxi." She still refuses to listen to me, changing the subject back to my potential job interview.

"Please don't say no, Oli. I know you want to, that you'd probably be happier painting impressionistic cottages or something, but I really want to pay off my condo, and you should really pay off your townhouse, so just for now can be we be yuppie a.s.sholes and save the artistic dalliances for later?"

She takes in a ma.s.sive breath and waits patiently for me to respond.

"Are you done now?" I ask quietly.

"Think so." Maxi pauses as I stand in the center of my dining room, staring at a stack of bills on the edge of my table. I could sell the townhouse, shred the bills, and use my savings to buy a modest two bed, one bath in a small town somewhere in the Midwest. I could try writing that crime thriller I've always wanted to pen, put my MFA to good use. But that would feel too much like running away. At least for now, for today, I think I will do that interview even if it means having to wear another suit. It doesn't mean I have to take the job and anyway, what's the worst that could happen? "So, you'll do it?"

I pause and look up at the ceiling for a moment. I wonder what Lex's compet.i.tor would say if she knew about the contract he offered me? It could ruin him.