Page 35 of Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Cole

Side-by-side, Lori and I walk down the hallway toward my office. Neither of us speak, but the charge between us is combustible, a fuse slowly burning to the moment of imminent explosion. I want her. No. I’m obsessed with this woman, like I have never been obsessed with anything but winning. A part of me had thought that was about losing with her, but I now know it’s not. It was about her, just as it was the night I fucked her; about how different she is in ways definable in her beauty and spirit, and others not definable at all. My interest, our attraction which sparked off the damn walls in that room back there, is now complicated by the fact that my company represents her dreams and her future. More so, I’m not only the man she dared submit to, when she doesn’t submit, but I’m now her boss, and regardless of reality, the man she’s certain to believe controls that destiny.

Which means that I can’t just shut her in my office, pull up her skirt, and fuck her the way I’ve wanted to fuck her since the moment I met her, no matter how hard and hot I am for her. And that’s damn painful right about now.

We reach the executive offices and I hold the door open for her. She doesn’t look at me, but there is a moment before she passes, a moment neither of us move, where we are right back in that hotel, the air crackling with sexual tension. Her chin lifts slightly, defiance in the act that tells me she intends to push me away. That defiance does nothing to derail my appreciation of her perky little ass hugged by her skirt, and soon to be hugged by my hands, again.

She pauses just inside the lobby area to wait on me. And I’m damn glad Maria isn’t present, while her and my secretary’s desk remain unoccupied since I have yet to find one that comes close to filling Ashley’s shoes. I turn toward my office, and Lori doesn’t miss a beat, keeping pace with me, but again when I open my door for her she doesn’t look at me. She enters, and I follow her inside expecting that explosion, and the minute I shut us inside she’s whirled on me. “I didn’t know,” she says.

“And yet you left.” I don’t wait for her reply. I walk around her before I walk right to her, and I do it before I pull her to me and lick my way to her submission again when that would be highly inappropriate of me, at least at this very moment.

I’m not willing to put the desk between us, so as I walk toward it, I turn to lean on the wooden surface, between the visitor’s chairs. “That had nothing to do with the here and now,” she says, facing me now, and dogmatic enough about her response to close several steps between us. “I didn’t know,” she repeats, grabbing the back of the chair just to my right. “I had nothing to gain by sleeping with you,” she adds. “The scholarship program is independent of you. As for leaving, I’m not leaving now. I need this opportunity. I deserve it.”

“I read your file,” I say. “You do deserve it and I wouldn’t let you leave if you tried, which makes me your new boss and mentor. I’ll be in charge of your program completion.”

“No,” she replies instantly. “No. You can’t—we—”

“Fucked? That has nothing to do with our jobs.”

“I can’t work for you. Transfer me.”

“There are two people here who can sign off on your program. Me and Reese. I’m the only one of the two of us that needs staff.”

“I cannot work for you,” she says. “There has to be another way. I have to talk to Reese.” She turns and heads for the door.

I force myself to stay put when I want to go after her. “And tell him what? You fucked me and now it’s awkward?”

She stops as I knew she would and whirls on me. I stand, straightening. We stare at each other, a battle of wills, and just as I expect any warrior to do, and she is a warrior, she steps toward me, and I her. We stop toe to toe. “Stay,” I say simply.

“This is not workable,” she says. “We—”

“Fucked,” I supply again. “That changes nothing about our jobs. I’ll give you a winning record and you’re good enough to own that record with me, with credit where credit is due.”

“We—”

“Did things together that you don’t normally do,” I say. “I get that, Lori, and I’m damn glad you did them with me, but that—”

“Don’t say it changes nothing again. It changes everything.”

“Because we still want to fuck? Because had you not left, we would have been fucking the entire two months we were apart? Or because I spanked you, and that makes you feel like I have some kind of power over you? I don’t.”

“You’re my boss.”

“Who wants you to be demanding, and argumentative, and share your opinions. If you submit to me at work, you will fail. So, don’t even think about holding back. Now, if you submit to me in the bedroom, it’s pleasure. There’s a difference.”

My phone buzzes, and Lori shoves away from me, backing up until she’s against the door.

“Partners meeting in fifteen,” Maria announces.

“Thank you, Maria,” I reply, but I never take my eyes off Lori. I wait until I’m certain Maria’s disconnected the line and then I say, “You have three choices. One: Quit. Two: Work with me and succeed with me. Or three: Tell Reese you can’t work with me and give him a good reason, but before you do, keep in mind that he’ll coddle you, but then, he’ll doubt you. Because this job isn’t about being comfortable. It’s about being damn good, even when you’re uncomfortable. A trial is never comfortable, and a judge doesn’t give a fuck about your feelings, nor does your client or opposing counsel.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” she says. “This situation is not a reflection of how I’ll handle a trial.”

“Isn’t it?” I challenge. “What if you fucked the opposing counsel two years before? Would you quit on your client to avoid facing him?”

“Of course not,” she bites out.

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