Page 10 of Charmed and Alarmed

While I wish I could tell myself that I never thought much about what transpired between Holden and me on New Year’s, I’d know full well it’s a lie. The truth is, that night managed to cut through my single-minded, ballerina ambition, the memory of it coming back to me even before stressful auditions or when I lay in bed, exhausted from a day of rehearsals.

I felt kind of pathetic about it. After all, I’d known Holden nearly my entire life, and I was wholly aware of what kind of a guy he’s always been. Even with full awareness of my own stupidity, it wasn’t enough to save me from the man’s indecent level of attractiveness. He deigned to look my way, and there I was, still thinking about it months later.

Holden was always hot. As a teenager, I used to get all fluttery and giggly around him, but it was an unattainable, impossible kind of crush, like for an actor or member of a famous boy band. Now though, or rather, since we ran into each other at New Year’s, his particular brand of hot has changed.

Holden Ellinger has entered his daddy era, and there is no pretending it doesn’t work for him.

For a while, I rolled my eyes at Honor and Sophie, going for men so much older than them, but I get it now. There’s something to be said for experience, and it’s too bad that part of Holden’s experience was my own mother—a fact I unfortunately learned while she was wine-drunk on her birthday a few years ago—because he would definitely be a candidate for some really fun, unattached sex.

Apparently unencumbered by the vicious pain in my right leg, my pussy tightens at the thought. Ignoring both, I push open the glass doors to E&V, peering around the empty lobby. The entire space is soaked in warm, late afternoon light, and the thud of my cane on the clean white floor echoes off the towering ceiling as I limp up the stairs toward Team E’s domain.

Laughter and voices begin to trickle back to me as I reach the top landing. I pause only to wipe my sweaty palm on my skirt before taking my cane again and carrying on, disregarding the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Holden is nowhere in sight, but the atmosphere in the office is relaxed and cheerful. More than a few people have their shoes kicked off or are sitting cross-legged on their chairs. There are half a dozen boxes of pizza and a collection of plastic cups and soda bottles on the big table in the center of the room.

I keep my expression nonchalant as I move back to my desk, sitting down at the chair I swore I would never return to.

“Leni.” My heart rockets into my throat as I look around, finding myself eye level with Holden Ellinger’s crotch. My mouth is dry as I rip my gaze away from the front of his neatly pressed dark gray slacks to meet a pair of piercing eyes.

“Hi.” I wince, furious with my past self for imagining I could conjure up a decent apology without rehearsal. “I’m sorry. About earlier. I was a bitch.”

Not quite what I was hoping to express, but it will have to do.

Holden just looks at me, lifting his pizza to his perfect lips and taking a bite. I don’t look away, watching him chew, swallow, and finally, nod. “Apology accepted. Are you staying, then?”

“I guess so.”

His face splits in a wide, effortless smile. “Just the kind of enthusiasm we’re looking for here at Ellinger and Vogel.” Then, raising his voice above those of his chattering employees, Holden calls, “Welcome to the team, Lenora!”

As he walks off, I press my hand to my stomach, trying to steady my racing pulse by touch alone.

It doesn’t work.

5

HOLDEN

Even with her reappearance and apology, I don’t really expect Leni to show up tomorrow.

She does, though. For eight hours straight, she sits at her desk, answers phone calls, makes polite small talk with coworkers, and organizes files in the cloud drive.

Then, she does it again. And again. And again.

Day after day, I sit in my office, trying and failing not to look up every time I see her reach into a drawer or pick up the phone or scratch her fucking nose. I try to convince myself I don’t care whether she likes her job or not, or whether her eyes will ever lose their dull, lifeless quality.

No matter how hard I try to keep my mind on work, or on other women’s tits when I work my dick every night, it’s no fucking use. The intensity of thisthingonly grows. Whatever it is, self-destruction or a mid-life crisis or a truly epic instance of karmic justice, the affliction shows no sign of letting up.

I may be losing my mind.

Insanity is more reasonable to me than having actual feelings—non dick-related ones—for Lenora Vogel. It’s not like I’ve never had a genuine connection with a woman in my life, because I have. Those attachments were fleeting, however, ending as I realized there wasn’t a single thing that I would give up to keep them in it. Including other women. Then, my business partner’s daughter smiled at me in a bar, and it was all over. I’m forty years old, and this is the first time I’ve experienced anything as intense as this.

Naturally, I have to get rid of her.

Firing her is out of the question. For one thing, she’s proving to be more than capable at her job, now that she’s put her mind to it. For another, Bram would lose his mind. Informing him that I fired his beloved youngest child so I wouldn’t fall to my knees and beg to eat her cunt one day, would undoubtedly not go over well. No, the only way Leni is leaving E&V is if she has something better to do, something she’s actually passionate about. I can do that. I can help her figure something out, and get rid of her in the process.

If reigniting the light in her eyes happens to be a byproduct of this plan, then all the better. I can send her on her way, knowing some good came of my feelings or obsession or whatever the fuck this is. When the woman is out from under my nose, surely this horrifying phenomenon will abate, and I can return to my meaningless sex with women who do not only want me in my fantasies. So, exactly one week after Leni started working at E&V, I resolved to formally begin my campaign to help her quit.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t counted on the pencil skirt.

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