Page 40 of Hard Limits

“You’re shocked?”

“Well, yes? It doesn’t…” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Creep you out?”

“I enjoy my job, Meera. Both of them. This evening, one of my regulars is coming, and he’s…” She fanned herself. “He’s hot in a ‘daddy’ kind of way. And he has a kink that’s also my kink, so I’m gonna sleep very well tonight.” Charlotte took a step back. “I need to go finish the management accounts, then find an outfit.”

“See you on Monday!”

Selena waved as they both hurried out of the room, and I closed the door behind them and leaned my forehead against it, trying to recover from yet another Dunnvale surprise. I knew I shouldn’t judge, but when you’d been brought up to believe that sex was for procreation, not for pleasure, and that all pleasure was dirty, it was hard to adjust.

“Blow out your candles, Meera. We don’t want an unscheduled fire drill.”

My breath hitched, and I whirled to find Mr. Vale standing in the doorway between our offices, watching me with his hands in his pants pockets.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Just for your information, this door isn’t as soundproof as it might appear.” All I could do was groan. “Although now I’m curious who Coraya’s sister’s friend is.” He gave a weighty sigh. “Those were the days.”

Before I could regain my faculties, my gaze dropped to Mr. Vale’s package, and although I snapped it back up to his face in one stuttering heartbeat, I knew he’d noticed. That smirk was filthy.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered again, because staring at the CEO’s genitals was probably forbidden in the company handbook. “I just need to…” Need to what? Think, Indi. “Uh, there’s a package at the desk downstairs.”

Mr. Vale was chuckling as I ran out of my office. When I came back, ten long, long minutes later, the candles were out, and there was a small box with a note sitting by the cupcake. Happy work anniversary, Meera.

Now I had the earrings to go with my necklace.

“You sound happier,” Meera commented on Saturday evening. “Has your new boss stopped acting like a douche now?”

Yes. Yes, he had.

Which should have been a good thing. I mean, hadn’t I longed for a friendly, approachable boss who didn’t molest me? But now I was confused. Mr. Vale was a mercurial mix of taskmaster and testosterone. I’d asked for the morning meetings, but every day they were taking longer, and I kept getting distracted. By his sly smiles, by the way his shirt stretched across his chest when he leaned back in his chair, by the glasses he’d worn instead of contacts this morning. The lunches were worse. They didn’t happen every day, but when they did, they were always three courses with no wine. I was very insistent on the no-wine part.

And Mr. Vale was surprisingly easy to talk with when he relaxed. Both about business—I was learning more details of his various investments—and life in general. Although every conversation seemed to involve a game of innuendo tennis where he hit ace after ace and all of my serves ended up in the net. He didn’t mean anything by it. Did he? Charlotte said he was naturally charming, and he also owned a sex club. That was probably just the way he spoke with everyone.

“He’s mellowed out in the past few weeks.”

“That’s great.”

But if I sounded happy, then Meera sounded sad. I asked the question I’d been dreading.

“How are things with Alfie?”

She burst into tears.

All I wanted to do was reach through the phone and give her a hug. Meera had been my rock, my confidante for the past four and a half years. She was hurting, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“What happened?”

“He says he’s sick of working outside in the rain, and he’s not coming back to the project. He wants us to go to Lisbon for the rest of the winter because bar work’s better paid there. What am I meant to do? I tried waitressing in a bar when we were in college, and I hated it.”

Alfie was an extrovert; Meera was an introvert. I’d always thought their different personalities complemented each other, but now I wasn’t so sure.

“Is it the weather that’s the big problem? Will he come back to the project when it’s drier?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Because if he’d agree to that, why not suggest a compromise? You both head to Lisbon for a few months and then return to Fundão in the spring?”

“But I want to get the permaculture project up and running, and there are all the trees to plant, and the waterway to clear, and a chicken house to build…”

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