Page 19 of Scandalous Secrets

I knew what he was implying. Even though he had never directly accused me of anything happening with my assistants, the implication was there. I had always been discreet about my personal affairs in the office. None of it had ever been on page six. The Victoria’s Secret models were a different story, but I kept my work life under wraps in that regard. Still, he had his little spy, Kathy, tattling in his ear nearly every day.

With my first personal assistant, there was an afternoon coming back to the office after lunch and too much champagne. We both were so desperate that we didn’t make it out of the elevator. She was the one who initiated that when she hit the emergency stop button and went down on me right then and there. I made sure to return the favor back in my office.

I was still surprised we were never caught or that the NYFD didn’t come to save us, only to find my pants down and her mouth around my dick.Thatwould have ended up on page xix.

“They have been, but I owed Daniel Jacobs a favor and I trust his judgment,” I said.

“Well, if Daniel had anything to do with it then it’s fine by me,” he said.

“Great,” I muttered.

“Just remember…” he started. “If anything gets out, you lose the firm. I can’t have you tarnishing the pristine reputation of my company. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Right. Well, I better go. Your mother is waiting downstairs for dinner.”

“Tell her I said hello.”

“Mhmm. Bye, son.”

I hung up the phone and tossed it on the plush carpet of my closet floor in frustration. I was nearly forty years old and still had to answer to my father. Not only that, I had a babysitter named Kathy who, for some reason, had it out for me.

I wasn’t going out tonight. I wasn’t in the mood. I threw open my closet drawers and pulled out a pair of black sweats and slid them on, along with a baggy Mets shirt.

Then I strode out to my bedroom and looked at the bed with all the reminders of Monica that were wrapped up in the sheets and began ripping them off in a manic state. I threw everything into a pile on the hardwood floor and looked at it breathlessly. I was pissed off. At my father. At Kathy. At myself for not being able to control myself around a beautiful woman.

I knew it was going to take everything in me to keep things professional with Monica. She was the most beautiful woman I had set eyes on and knew how to move her body in a sync with mine that I had never experienced. I almost wished I had never gone to that bar last night because I never would have met her to experience sex that made me hard even when I was losing my shit right now. It was like biting into a sweet apple and never being able to again. It was almost better not to have tasted it in the first place.

Hurriedly, I kicked the pile of sheets toward the wall, intending to send them down the garbage chute later. I needed to get rid of any trace of our night together.

I walked down the hallway and to the living room. The sun had already set, leaving the sky a pink and purple watercolor painting casting its colors over the room. I looked out the large windows and wished I could cover them up because all I saw was her against them, her legs around me as she threw her head back and moaned.

I could still hear her. Feel her.

I wondered if she could, too. I wondered if when she walked into my office this morning, if everything came rushing back to her. If I affected her the way she did me. To know I was her first one-night stand made her all the more appealing. Knowing I could have her in that way without knowing anything about each other. That was a true act of passion. One I hoped she would never forget. One I hoped she would think about when she touched herself in a way I had to will myself not to again.

Lost in thought, I walked to the corner bar of the room and pulled down a bottle of bourbon. I pried the top off and took a generous swig before sliding a glass tumbler from the shelf to top off. I set the bottle down with every intention of coming back to it soon, as I carried my glass over and plopped down on the couch, turning my back to the windows.

I took another generous sip. Just because I wasn’t going out tonight didn’t mean I had the intention of staying sober. Not when I had to see her again tomorrow and the day after that. And so forth. I could let her go. Quit before we started. I had just told my dad to trust me with my decision. I couldn’t prove him right.

Chapter 9

Monica

My alarm pierced my ears, bringing me out of a deep sleep. I could thank the two glasses of wine for that. I rolled over and swatted at my phone until it finally gave me the relief of silence. Picking it up, I squinted as the glare from the screen told me the time. It was 6 a.m. I groaned, as if I wasn’t the one who had set the alarm in the first place.

Normally, I did not wake up this early. As a writer, I could wake up when I wanted and take things slow, enjoying a cup of coffee and hardly ever needing to change out of my pajamas. This corporate job was serving to be a rude awakening. Literally.

I hadn’t needed to torture myself with such an early morning, but I thought it would be best to feel prepared and ready to take on the day. The opposite of what I felt yesterday when I woke up in Troy’s bed at 8 a.m. A memory I couldn’t push out of my head, or even from my dreams where I had no say if he showed up. And he did. Over and over again, like an endless loop of his hands on my skin.

I shut my eyes tight and shook my head as if it would loosen the grip he had on my mind. No luck. I sighed and pushed the covers off of me, unable to stop comparing them to the silky feeling of the charcoal gray sheets that covered his bed. I wondered if he had the same dreams as me or I had just been a fleeting thought. Just as fleeting as our night together.

Tiredly, I walked down the small hallway to my bathroom and turned the shower on. Maybe the water would wake me up. I brushed my teeth as I waited for the steam to rise from over the shower curtain. When the water was hot enough, I slipped off my pajamas and stepped inside, letting the water rush over me. I had half a mind to give myself some release after last night’s dreams where we were again pressed up against the window, but instead I quickly washed and rinsed off.

It was better not to see my new boss in that way, even though I had gotten a generous glimpse of all he had to offer not even forty-eight hours ago. I had to see him for what he was. A blip in judgment. A one night only. More importantly, my now boss.

I spent the next hour getting ready, spending an annoying amount of time on my hair and makeup. I told myself it was for the job, but there were other underlying reasons to look good. Today, I curled my hair so it fell in bouncy waves past my shoulders and applied a light layer of makeup for a clean, polished look. I chose a black pair of slacks and a cream, satin button-down, along with a pair of gold ballet flats. Thankfully, I had some office wear from when I had meetings with my publisher or book signings.

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