It’s not lost on me that I’m wearing a dress purchased withhismoney. His eyes flick to the garment, specifically, to my cleavage tastefully outlined with a squared neckline, before returning to my face. It’s like he’s completing a cursory check to make sure I’m outfitted properly, as his assistant.
“Yes,” I cough out, turning and anxiously thumbing through the papers on my desk. After a moment, I hand him the fax that arrived this morning. “The pilot is arranged, and we have a take-off time…”
“Thank you.” Dane takes the paper and turns, walking back into his office, the door clicking behind him with finality.
I go back to my work, heart still galloping along in my chest. This time, Dane’s glass doesn’t cloud over, so I find myself glancing up, gaze landing on him at his desk, where he’s always studying something intently.
And, occasionally, when I’m working on my own tasks, making calls or jotting down notes, I swear I can feel the heavy, calculating weight of his stare on me.
The idea that he’s watching me is unbearable.
Because when I feel the weight of his attention on me, I start to wonderwhyhe’s watching me. To make sure I’m doing a good job? Because he’s just thinking, and happens to be looking in my direction?
Or is it like the day he gave me the toys? Studying my reaction because maybe watching me does…something?
The second that flits into my head, I try to banish it. Try to remind myself that he’s twice my age and would want nothing to do with me, especially considering the fact that I havenoidea what I’m doing, even though I’m twenty-five.
But I can’t stop myself from the daydreams that wriggle through even the most rational of my thoughts.
That Dane might come out here, demand to see what I’m working on. Lean over my back to get a better look at my computer screen. His breath hot on the back of my neck. Both of us going still, wondering if the other felt the tension, the intense gravitational pull.
I read, once, that if you hold a necklace out next to a mountain, it’ll swing a little toward the range because of its gravity. That’s how I feel around Dane.
He knows… he has to know.
And in my daydream, he’s interested in me, too. He lifts his hand, painstakingly slowly pushes my hair to the side, lowers his lips to the crux of my neck, his mouth hot, insistent, and slow, his hand sliding down from the tips of my hair to the neckline of my dress, tracing the fabric, but never touching skin.
Then the phone rings, startling me out of the fantasy, and I glance at his door quickly, only to find him with his head down, focused on something.
The effect is so bad that my work stretches out, each task taking me twice as long as it should. Dane leaves just after seven-thirty, like he usually does, and I’m still at my desk, nodding to him as he passes.
The sun sets, and the office lights adjust accordingly, dipping into a dark, ambiance-creating red hue. Dane told me, in passing, that one of their previous companies focused on science-backed lighting, and that Cole made sure to implement those practices here, using the same technology.
When I searched it up later, I discovered that their lights were something newer than LED—a type of lighting Cole invented all on his own, then patented. High-end hospitals are installing them in ICUs, since they’ll help patients rest better while still giving nurses the visibility they need to do their jobs.
It’s after midnight by the time my phone starts to ring.
“Please tell me you’re out on the town,” Aunt Ruby says, her voice a sing-song that tells me she was out on the town herself, “and not still at work.”
“I just had a lot to get done today…”
“Boo! Mr. CEO Hotshot doesn’t pay you enough to squander your youth. Either go out with Julian or come home for some beauty sleep!”
I take a glance at my computer screen and find the numbers and letters swimming in front of my eyes. “Okay,” I relent, resolving to come in earlier on Monday. Although I’m not sure that’s going to help much, since Dane gets here at the crack of dawn, and he’s the reason I’ve been so distracted.
“Good,” Aunt Ruby sings, “go now—I’m watching your location. I’ll know if you don’t leave.”
I sigh when she sets the phone down without hanging up, and I can hear her flinging her shoes across the living room. I know I’ll find them next to the bay window when I get back, instead of neatly by the front door, how she normally leaves them when she hasn’t been drinking.
Standing, I turn off the computer, grab my water bottle, and load my bag up. I slide it onto my shoulder and turn, heading for the elevator. As I walk, I check my texts, realizing Ruby, Julian, and Mary all messaged me several times while I was working, and I was so focused I didn’t even notice.
Mary:Got my ultra-sound picture today
Mary:Babies are healthy, according to the tech
Mary:Miss you! <3
For a long moment, I stare at the grainy, black-and-white picture she’s sent, a strange emotion rolling through me. I start to draft a text back to her, but stop when another comes in from Julian, flashing over the top of the screen.
