“Of course. But if this is a ploy to get the lab—”
“It’s not.” Sloane dismisses her with a wave. “But a little chocolate never hurt anyone, right, Oliver?” He glances at me, his knowing smirk lighting up his eyes.
“Right…” I say as Chicora shakes her head, heading for the door.
“Ten-o’clock, sweethearts!” she touts as she leaves the office, leaving Sloane and I alone once more. Though I’d promised Sloane I would have my selections for him by eight, he hasn’t said anything. In fact, he hasn’t said much outside of a few grunts here and there and “Did you get that, Oliver?” occasionally, since we got in here nearly two hours ago.
I carefully open my package of silverware, glancing at him as I twist my lips.
“What?” he asks, his tone back to that smooth, deep one he uses when it’s just us.
Justus.
I have to remind myself there is no us. Not really. He is my boss, he is mymark.There is no relationship between us that isn’t cultivated out of necessity. I’ve been trained to be appealing to him, and that’s all this is. A response to that carefully curated image, that expertly crafted persona meant toenticehim. There is no us, just me. Just the man I need to be to get the job done successfully.
“How do the expenses work here? I know I just started, and it’s going to take a minute for my first paycheck and whatnot, but do I need to submit my expenses or—”
“Anything you want or desire, I will take care of, Oliver," he says carefully.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—”
“I know what you meant, darling. Don’t be coy with me.”
“Mr. Pierce…”
“Oliver.” He fixates his gaze on me, and my entire body feels like a damn fire. Sloane looks at me like it's dawn and we are about to draw gloves and duel.
“I’m not being coy. I just want to make sure I am doing what I’msupposedto be doing.”
“Have I given you reason to believe you are not?” he asks, popping open his box. I can see from here it’s got a large croissant, drizzled with chocolate and powdered sugar.
“No, I just—”
“I will make it very clear to you then. Whatever you need to do your job, to do it at yourbestability, I will provide it for you. This goes not just foryou, Oliver, but for every employee in this building.”
I sigh. “I’m just saying, I can pay for my meals if needed.”
“It is not needed.” He chuckles. “But thank you so kindly for your offer.”
I roll my eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
He laughs. “I know.”
I swear, I don’t know how to take him sometimes. One minute he’s likethisand the next he’s allyes, Sir, no, Sir.Telling me to be ready at six am with thator elseimplication. It’s like the man who showed up at my apartment this morning to drive me to work and the man in this office are two entirely different people.
I hadn’t known how to feel when he called. Truthfully, I was shocked. And not only did he tell me Ileftmy damn Chromebook, heinsistedhe was coming to pick me up like some kid on their way to school. But it wasn’t just the fact I was carpooling with my boss that left me feeling nervous. It was the way he just… took charge. Called mehis.It was his “be ready for me” and that direct tone. It wasn’t angry or possessive, but ratherdemandingand strict.
Iwantedto be ready.
I wanted to do a good job.
Be agood boy.
His words reverberate in my brain, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken them to me, but yesterday I could hardly process much. Meeting Sloane, reallymeetinghim and seeing him face to face, that voice, that air… it was a lot. Even now, in his presence, I feel the weight of his stare, just as I feel that familiar desire to do as he says.
“Eat your crepe, Oliver,” he says, his voice smooth. I glare at him.
“Did you really buy all this food and more to sweeten the meeting with the lab later?”
