Page 7 of Charmed and Alarmed

It’s too late, though. Bram is already nodding, offering me a grateful smile. “It’s appreciated. I didn’t come here to talk about Leni, though.”

“No? Did you miss my face,Bram Cracker?”

He groans. “Who told you about that?”

I wave my hand vaguely at the surrounding building. “Everyone, old friend. Everyone. Does Sophie let you keep your balls attached to your person, or are they rolling around at the bottom of her purse with some lipstick?”

Choosing to ignore the question, Bram huffs, reaching into his pocket to remove a small white envelope. Slapping it down on my desk, he glares at me. “Honor’s engagement party is coming up and you still haven’t RSVP’d.”

Now, it’s my turn to groan. “Fuck, Bram. Don’t make me go to this. Can’t I just send a gift?”

Bram fixes me with a withering look. “You’ve known her since she was eight years old. Yes, you have to go. And no gifts, it’s donation only.”

“Right. I’m sure Daddy Warbucks can buy her all the salad spinners she could ever want.” I take the envelope, staring down at the curvy, embossed lettering. When the invitation arrived, I did little more than glance at it before tossing it aside, resolved to ignore it in the hopes I could get away with not going. Now, unbidden, a tiny voice in the back of my mind reminds me that Leni will almost certainly be in attendance.

I snatch a pen from the holder on my desk, scribble my name in the indicated place, and slash a line through thejoyfully acceptsbox before shoving the thing back at Bram. “I’m going to wear sweatpants and a stained T-shirt.”

Unfazed, Bram stands, slipping the envelope back into his pocket. “Whatever you like.”

“I’m going to adopt a different accent at the top of every hour.”

“Sounds like a wonderful topic of conversation for the other guests.”

“I’m going to eat a burrito with extra cheese and beans immediately prior.”

This last one earns me a withering look. “You’re a child.”

No, I’m the fun, rich friend who avoids commitment like the plague. The fun, rich friend who has found himself in the unprecedented position of being wholly obsessed with a woman who has no interest in him, spending his nights jerking off to a video of her dancing across a stage in a tutu instead of fucking any of the very willing women in his contact list.

One can only assume there is some sort of karmic justice at play after decades of sprinting from commitment of any kind. Not that a commitment is what I want from Lenora. I want to fuck her, and it seems like a reasonable assumption that I’ve become fixated for the simple reason thatI can’t.

Behind Bram, my gaze catches on Leni limping back into the room. Even clutching a cane and scowling, she manages to look more elegant and graceful than any other woman I’ve known, and as she folds herself into the chair behind her desk, my entire chest aches. Whatever the fuck this is, having her here is not going to end well.

With difficulty, I tear my eyes away from Leni and back onto her father. “Guilty as charged. Please be sure to warn the bride about my burrito requirements.”

Bram ignores me, striding from the room after one last weary, exasperated look. I watch as he pauses at Leni’s desk, saying something to her I can’t make out over the chatter in the office. She nods, smiling at him, but the moment he turns away, her expression falls.

It’s difficult to drag my eyes back to my computer, but even when I manage it, I can’t quite shake the uncomfortable, gnawing urge to look right back at her. Mercifully, yet another distraction arrives in the form of an email from our scheduling department.

For fuck’s sake.

Getting to my feet, I walk out into the main workspace, pausing beside Leni’s desk.

She looks up at me, lips pursed. “Did you need something?”

“Can you work late tonight, perchance? I’m sorry to do this to you on your first day, but a rather large prospective client has asked to move their pitch meeting with us up to tomorrow instead of Friday. I’ll need someone to assemble the packets for them.”

Leni’s expression doesn’t change, but she turns back to her computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. “I’d rather not.”

I feel a flicker of annoyance. “Do you want to come in early tomorrow, then? This isn’t something that happens often, but it needs to get done.”

“I’d rather not do that, either,” she replies primly, without a hint of apology.

“Do you have better things to do, princess?”

She sighs, as if this conversation is an annoyance she’s being forced to engage in, and turns back to face me, an almost pitying expression on her face. “Pardon me for not getting excited about stapling pieces of paper together in this corporate hellhole.”

The image of putting her over my lap and spanking her tight little ass red appears in my mind’s eye. I ignore it. “Stapling pieces of paper together in thiscorporate hellholeis your job. If that’s too much for you to handle, then you should probably call it quits now.”

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