"I do." No hesitation. "I'm not here to judge you, Dr. Mercer. I'm here to make sure no one else gets the chance to."
Power locks between us, invisible and absolute. She sees me clearly, with every shadow, every compromise, and she isn't running.
I see her in a new light. The armor of innocence, the steel underneath, the absolute certainty that she will bend whatever needs bending to keep me safe, makes my decision easy.
I extend my hand. "The job is yours. Start Monday. Seventy-five thousand base, full benefits, discretionary bonus tied to performance. You report only to me."
She slides her palm into mine. Her grip is firm, warm, and steady. She grins. "Thank you. And I appreciate you giving me the top of the salary range."
"I have a feeling you're worth it," I declare.
She beams. "I will see you on Monday. Thank you, Dr. Mercer. You won't regret hiring me."
"I'm sure I won't." I open the door, and she exits.
I watch her until she disappears, happily thinking one thing.
My new assistant will ruin people for me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Blue
Monday
My body aches in places I didn't know could ache, a dull throb from a weekend tangled in Red's sheets, with his hands pinning me down, his mouth mapping every inch of me until I shattered over and over underneath him.
I smile bigger, even though it hurts my cheeks, but I can't help it.
Exhaustion tugs at my muscles, and adrenaline surges through my veins, electric and insistent, replaying the way he whispered my name in the dark, the lazy mornings where we shared coffee in bed, and how his fingers traced patterns on my skin. We talked about nothing and everything. And those hours wrapped us in a bubble, private and ours, where the world outside his condo ceased to exist.
I glance at the clock on my computer. Eleven thirty. My morning tasks dragged, my mom and co-worker's voices blurring into white noise while my mind wandered back to Red's laugh, low and rare, the one he saves only for me.
"He loves me," I whisper, filling in the bodice of a dress in red. I finish, put my pencil down, and stare at the drawing.
Impulse hits sharp and sudden. I grab my keys, escape the office, telling Mom I'm meeting a friend for lunch, then detour to Red's favorite deli. I order him a turkey on rye with extra mustard, no mayo, and a side of the spicy pickles he raved about in bed. I order a chicken salad on a croissant for me, and practically skip down the sidewalk, toward his office.
When I step into his building, the guards nod. I get into the elevator, and I'm soon stepping into Red's waiting area. But as soon as the door shuts, I freeze.
The air shifts, the fluorescent lights buzz overhead, erasing the warmth from our weekend. There's no more tangled limbs or hushed confessions. Red's office exudes professionalism, etched into every polished surface.
A woman sits at the reception desk, brunette hair knotted neatly, fingers flying over the keyboard with practiced ease. She's polished in a bright blue dress that hugs her curves just right. She glances up without missing a beat. In a soft Southern drawl, polite but firm, her brown eyes meet mine. "Can I help you?"
I grip the bag tighter and glare at her. "I'm here to see Dr. Mercer. Who are you?"
She rises and extends her hand. "I'm sorry. Sometimes I get so caught up in my work that I forget my manners. I'm Dr. Mercer's new assistant, Amy."
"Amy?" I repeat, my throat tightening. I don't take her hand.
She lowers it. "Yes. And you are?"
I stare at her another moment before answering, "I'm Blue."
No recognition flickers in her expression. "Blue..."
My face falls. "Blue Ivanov."
She pauses, hits a key on the computer, then wrinkles her forehead. "I don't see you on the schedule. Did you have an appointment that I somehow missed?"
