Page 6 of Charmed and Alarmed

“I’m sorry Bram sprung this on you. When he gets an idea, it’s full steam ahead.”

A warm chuckle greets my words, and I feel the tension in my shoulders relax, if only a little. “I’m familiar with the phenomenon, yes.”

Yeah, I guess he would be.

I sigh. “If it’s an issue, or if I’m shitty at this, just tell me. I’ll quit so he doesn’t get up your ass about it.”

“I appreciate that.” Holden still doesn’t move, though, lingering beside my desk, hands buried in the pockets of his impeccably fit slacks. “You’re just in time. We do a team meeting every Monday to touch base and discuss any pressing items on the agenda for the week.”

Lucky me. I must already be catching on to proper corporate etiquette, however, because I keep my mouth shut. “Do I need to do anything?” I ask at last, when it’s clear Holden isn’t done with me.

His eyes glint with amusement, as if he knows exactly what I think about all this. “Typically, the administrative aid takes notes and sends a summary email to the team with the highlights, deadlines, whatever.”

“I can do that.”

“Great. And Leni?—”

“Thanks for the opportunity.” I cut him off, turning my attention to the computer in front of me and jabbing at the power button with unnecessary vigor.

No question about it.I really, really hate it here.

3

HOLDEN

I’ve done a lot of perverted shit in my life, but jerking off to a performance of the Nutcracker might be a new low.

Well, notnewnew, as I’ve been doing it for months. At forty years old, however, the phenomenon is a relatively recent development. Before I started getting hard for the fucking Sugar Plum Fairy, I got hard for normal things. While some of those “normal” things might push the limits of what many of my prudish countrymen would consider typical, again, one needs to look at the bigger picture.

Bondage and threesomes are pretty tame when you think that somewhere out there, some guy is dry humping the hood of his 1988 Toyota Camry.

I’ll take Sugar Plum Fairy perversion over car humping any day of the week. However, admittedly, the problem didn’t seem quite as pressing when the cause for my sudden interest in ballet wasn’t an active part of my life.

Sure, lately I’ve paid more attention when Bram mentioned his daughter. Sure, I’ve asked after her recovery more than I would have ordinarily, and obsessively checked her social media accounts in the hope I’d gain some insight into her daily life, or—better yet—lay eyes on her for the first time since New Year’s.

All that was harmless, and if I felt a little guilty over being this attracted to Lenora Vogel, it was easy enough to dismiss. After all, I wasn’t going to do anything about it, was I? I tried, and she turned me down. That’s the end of it. It’s not as if I was planning to show up on her doorstep and beg her to fuck me, even if, after six months of abstinence, I’m beginning to suspect my dick is on the verge of falling off.

I hadn’t counted on ever spending an extended amount of time with her, and I certainly hadn’t expected for her to take up residence at the desk directly outside my office, perched on the rolling chair like a beautiful, sullen statue.

Throughout the entire morning meeting, my eyes are drawn to her, over and over again. She doesn’t say a single word or acknowledge any of her new coworkers apart from a brief, pained smile around the room when I make introductions. When it’s over, she retreats to her new desk, knuckles white on the handle of her pink, sparkly cane.

Going about my typical daily routine was a challenge. No matter what I did, the awareness of her presence seemed to linger at the edge of my mind, and along with it, the knowledge that if I looked around, I could set eyes on the woman who had become the object of my fantasies over the past few months.

It’s a relief when she goes to lunch.

My respite doesn’t last long, however. I’ve barely collapsed back in my chair, a headache blurring the edges of my vision and my dick painfully hard, when Bram strolls into my office.

“Hey.” I sit up straighter, attempting a casual smile. “What’s up?”

My business partner closes the door behind himself and takes the seat across from mine. “I wanted to thank you,” he tells me, “for taking on Len. I suspect having her on my team wouldn’t have worked out.”

Oh, hell.I scrub a hand over my stubble. “Does shewantto work here?” If the perpetual frown is any indication, taking an administrative assistant role at her father’s business was not Leni’s idea.

Bram winces at the question. “She wants to be dancing, but obviously, that isn’t going to happen.” He rakes a hand through his hair, looking exhausted. “She’s been cooped up in Honor and Sophie’s apartment for months. Frankly, at this point, I’m happy she’s putting on pants and doing something other than watching game shows all day.”

It’s difficult to swallow past the lump lodged painfully in my throat. “I’m happy to help.”

This was not the sentiment I wanted to express. Now that the shock has worn off, I could have come up with any number of reasons why having Leni on my team would be far, far less ideal than having her on Bram’s. Getting rid of her before this fixation sinks its claws any deeper into me seems paramount.

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