Page 19 of Forbidden Desire

“Would it help if I told you there is an increase in salary?”

My ears perk up at that. I’d be able to better care for Josie, and maybe even put some money into savings. I think about all of my unanswered résumés I have sent out and the empty call log on my phone. I don’t have another job lined up.

Is it worth it though? To work with the man when I despise everything he stands for. The same man who left me in his apartment after giving me the night of my life. The same man who is the father of my daughter and has no idea about it. My stomach is tangling itself into knots.

I watch as Marco grabs a pen and jots something down on a piece of paper. He slides it over casually.

“Your new salary,ifyou take the new position.”

I hesitate before picking up the paper and unfolding it. I try to hide my shock as I look over the number that’s almost quadruple my current salary. I would be an idiot not to take it, yet part of me feels awful for my friends who lost their jobs at the hand of the man before me. Why is he doing this for me?

I start to feel paranoid that maybe he knows about Josie, and is trying to help in some discreet way. But then I think there is absolutely no way he knows he even has a daughter. I’ve kept my secret close. Still, I can’t help but feel that this promotion is curious, like he’s giving me special treatment, but I don’t know why. It can’t be because we shared a night together. Or maybethis is his way of keeping me quiet. Either way, I have to take the job.

I fold the paper back up and clutch it in my lap. I take a deep breath before meeting his questioning gaze.

“I’ll do it,” I say softly.

I remind myself it’s for Josie. All of this is for her.

Chapter 12

Marco

“I’ll draw up your new contract by end of day,” I say, watching Erica carefully avoid my gaze. My brows furrow as she gives a nod and stands from her chair, letting me know the conversation is over. I barely get a goodbye out before she’s already slipped out the door, and it lands on deaf ears.

I sit back in my chair. Her perfume still lingers as I stare at the closed door she just left through. My eyes couldn’t help falling to her rear as she moved expertly in that black dress. I realized she could make anything look good, and that might be a distraction. A welcome one.

The disappointment I carefully tried not to show during our encounter creeps in as I replay the last few minutes. I had expected our meeting again to go much differently. In fact, I hadbeen waiting all week to bring her in here because of my own nerves and expectations.

I was probably stupid for thinking we could pick up where we left off a year ago, but a part of me hoped she’d be happy to see me. Her pretending like she didn’t know me was a rude awakening. If I wasn’t so familiar with her face and all the expressions it held; laughter, pleasure, calmness, I would second-guess if I have ever met her at all with the way she acted toward me.

I don’t know what you’re talking about.

She had said the words so surely, as if I had never pressed my lips against hers or felt her surround me entirely in crashing waves of pleasure. Maybe she was upset I left her that morning, or maybe she truly didn’t remember. We had consumed cheap champagne, followed by upscale cocktails at the jazz bar, but she hadn’t been wasted. I like my dates conscious and coherent, and she proved to be as she commanded me with her body that night.

I drum my fingertips against her file, the wordsErica Gunnerprinted on the file tab. She’s taken me by surprise in more ways than one. After finding out her last name last week, I knew I had heard it before. After a quick Google search, I realized she is the daughter of Bryce Gunner, an even more barbaric CEO than me. It’s hard to believe she’s his daughter. Even harder to believe she’s working at this paper and not at his company. Or her brother’s. Troy Gunner is another name I’m familiar with.

She never once brought up her family when we were getting to know each other. Then again, I had omitted information myself. I can’t help but feel like she’s me in that way, hiding who she really is. I wonder what her story is and hate how much more intrigued I am by her.

I shake my head, releasing my thoughts as I get back to the pile of folders in front of me. I have a business to run. Right now is not the time to be distracted by a woman, even though I know she’s nearby, and will be even closer now that I’ve promoted her to work alongside me.

Her promotion was earned, and has nothing to do with our previous sexual history. It had been the right choice, knowing how passionate she is about the paper. I can see that from her file. She has a flawless track record and her ambition was made clear in the way she talked about her job over drinks at the jazz bar. It may have been a strategic choice too, though I’m seeing that my idea to get close to her is already failing miserably.

I sigh as I pick up another folder from the two stacks in front of me, thetosspile and thekeeppile. Thetosspile is much higher, though I’ve whittled it down quite a bit already this week. I’m nearly through it. Each meeting ended the same, with looks of fear, anger, and sadness on each employee’s face. I’ve grown used to it by now. At least they each received a decent severance package. I’m not completely barbaric.

I press the intercom button on the phone on the desk, reminding myself that I’ll need a new one for my new office. George’s style is as old as he is.

“Jessica, can you send the next one in, please?”

“Yes, sir,” she replies.

I lean back in my chair and wait, knowing with each person I fire, whatever anger Erica has toward me grows. I wonder why I let it eat at me so much.

By the end of the day, I’m exhausted. The company is bigger than I anticipated, and going through the roster of employees took me all week, but I finished one of the main to-dos on my list: Downsizing. By the time I’m finished, the sun has already set and the majority of the office has cleared out, including Erica. I need a stiff drink right about now.

As I walk toward the elevator, I stop at Jessica’s desk, where she’s packing up her things and looking equally as tired as I am.

“Did you get that contract sent to Erica Gunner?” I ask.

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