The resignation.
Well, I suppose it’s what I wanted.
She knocks.
“Come in,” I say.
She opens the door and steps inside. Closes it behind her.
Then she stands there with her hands clasped in front of her.
“Paloma needs to meet with you about donor engagement strategy,” she says, reading from her notebook. “She suggested tomorrow at one, but that’s during your lunch block. Would you prefer adifferent time?”
“One is fine,” I tell her. “Next time just pick the time, so you don’t have to interrupt me.”
Her composed expression shifts just for a second. Something that looks like hurt flashes across her face and her lips part like she’s about to say something, then press together.
She smooths it all away in an instant.
“Understood, Mr. Rossi,” she says. “I’ll use my judgment going forward.”
“Anything else?” I press impatiently.
She bites her lip for a moment, like she doesn’t want to say this next part, but barrels on anyway. “I’m learning preferences for the executive team. How do you take your coffee?”
Coffee.
We drank coffee together. Saturday morning. On her fire escape with the sun coming up over Queens. She’d handed me a mug and we sat there in silence mostly, both knowing what came next.
I don’t remember how she made it. I just remember thinking I’d never tasted anything better.
“One sugar,” I tell her now. “No cream.”
She writes it down in that notebook of hers. “Thank you.”
I nod curtly.
She smiles, and leaves.
I watch her return to her desk and add the note to whatever system she’s building.
How did you end up as my secretary?
Why are you staying?
Why am I sitting here trying to forget what you look like when you cum?
My phone buzzes again. Elspeth, my COO, needs my sign-off on the Q4 expansion contracts. I pull up the documents and try to focus.
The words blur.
I’m watching Bree instead. The way she answers the phone. The way her fingers move across her keyboard. The way...
This is bad.
Really fucking bad.
I tear my eyes away and make myself read the contracts.
