Page 143 of Naughty Nelle

CHAPTER 22

Sarah

Iwoke up the next morning at the crack of dawn. Tuesday. Work. I didn’t need an alarm to get me up. The vibrations between my thighs from last night’s playdate with Ari were enough. I could practically hear the throbbing.

I went through the steps of my usual workday routine. Feed the cat. Coffee. My birth control pill. A quick jog around the neighborhood. Shower. Get dressed. I threw on a loose-fitting gray Urban Outfitters dress that Lauren has passed down to me because it wasn’t her style, laced up my combat boots, and organized my messenger bag. At the last minute, I slipped Ari’s one hundred dollar bill into my wallet though I still had very mixed feelings about it. Good to go, I grabbed my skateboard. Yes, that’s how I commuted back and forth to my office located between Broadway and West Twenty-Third Street. My skateboard was a fast, economical, and reliable means of transportation.

It took me a half hour to get downtown, weaving in and out of the early-morning commuters skittering like mice along the city streets. The landmark cast-iron clock outside the iconic Toy Center Building, which dated back to 1909, read seven thirty-five. Perfect. That would give me plenty of time to finish up Catherine’s ridiculous assignments. While I’d gotten most of them done, the bitch didn’t send me a list of the fashion designers she wanted to visit in Milan until ten p.m. And by that hour, I was too emotionally and physically drained by Ari’s mind-fucking plundering to begin it. Fingers crossed I could get it all done by the time she showed up, I thought as I headed into the building with my skateboard clutched under my arm.

No matter how much I despised working for Catherine, I always got a rush of excitement when I stepped foot inside the building where I worked. There was a contagious, electrifying energy and I could feel the creative juices flowing. I’d finally landed a job where I belonged. One day, I hoped all my hard work—and talent—would pay off, and I’d be sitting in a corner office like Catherine’s overlooking the Flatiron District and displaying all the toys I’d developed. Stepping into the elevator that was packed like sardines with familiar faces, I dreamt about what the future might bring.

Ike’s Tikes was located on the twelfth floor. When the elevator doors parted, I wormed my way out of the still packed car and headed to our headquarters. Someone was ahead of me walking in the same direction. I recognized him by his girth and his shiny, thick black wavy hair. It was Ike Abrams, the founder and president of the company. We got to the entrance of the office at about the same time, and I thanked him for holding the door open for me.

He responded with a warm smile. I’d only run into him a few times and I’m sure he had no clue who I was.

“You’re here early,” he said brightly as we stepped into the colorful reception area that was filled with those award-winning beanbag toys everywhere you looked.

“Yes, sir. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Catherine Sinclair.” I debated whether to tell him my name but chose not to since he didn’t ask.

He smiled again. “Great. She’s one hell of a woman.”

If he only knew!

“You’ll learn a lot from her.”

I mentally rolled my eyes. Yup. In addition to knowing the layout of the Chanel makeup counter at Bergdorf’s by heart, I now knew the name of every major Italian fashion designer.

Moving past the reception area, Ike and I amicably parted ways, with him going down a different hallway to his office. His side of the U-shaped office was devoted to those who worked on Ike’s Tikes, which was the company’s cash cow. Catherine’s office was in the new development and business affairs area, and was the biggest among them. My desk sat outside it.

Other than Ike, I was likely the first person here. There was an eerie peacefulness as I marched down the dimly lit hall filled with empty cubicles and offices. In less than two hours, there would be a totally different vibe, the office space filled with dozens of employees working collectively to come up with the next breakout toy.

When I got to my desk, my mouth fell to the floor. Someone had been here before me. Waiting for me was an elegant crystal vase filled with a dozen of the most perfect long-stemmed red roses I’d ever seen. I knew whom they were from without having to open the small envelope propped against the vase. How the hell did he know where I worked? Duh! Of course. I mentioned it to him and his family at Ben’s birthday dinner the other night.

“Hay, caramba!”

I spun around. It was Fernando Suarez, my best friend at work, who, like me, tended to be an early bird. As usual, he was wearing his all-black uniform—tight jeans and an equally tight T-shirt that exposed his pumped up boyish body.

His dark eyes lit up. “Señorita Sarah found a boyfriend over the weekend?”

“Hardly,” I snapped back at him.

While I adored Fernando, a gorgeous gay guy of Filipino-Cuban descent, who worked in the packaging division (those cool Ike’s Tikes’ birth certificate tags were totally his creation), he could often be annoying. Very annoying.

“Have lunch with me later, mí querida.” He winked. “I want to hear everything.”

My eyes stayed on him as he sashayed down the corridor toward his cubicle and disappeared. Parking my skateboard under my desk, I sat down and tore open the envelope, which had my name printed on it. My hand was shaking as I read the notecard inside.

Dear Sarah~

I enjoyed my long weekend with you. I trust you did too.

Yours~ Ari

My heart fluttered, and I felt my face flush. I slipped the note into my top desk drawer, very aware of the vibrations between my inner thighs. I wondered when I would see him again. I got the feeling he was devoted to Ben during the week, something I understood and respected. Yet, I found myself hungering for him.

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