Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Ha, you gave me the answer I wanted. Just not the one I need.”
Ending the call, I walk into the hall. Elliot has already showered and dressed for work.
“Where were you last night?” I ask.
“A friend’s house,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “Are you ready for work?”
I wonder if this has something to do with the mob stuff. In different circumstances, I would outright ask him about it. But when I can still taste his best friend’s lips, when my body is still burning thinking about the searing texts, I feel like I have no right.
“Sure, let’s go.”
Elliot seems withdrawn during the car ride, not saying much.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Hmm?” he replies absentmindedly.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he grunts. Before I can say anything else, he comes to a screeching halt before reaching the office’s parking lot. “Fucking hell.”
“What? Elliot, we’re holding up traffic.”
“Look at The Clam.”
I turn, seeing his concern. The Clam’s front windows are boarded up, shattered glass spreading all over the sidewalk.
“This was them,” Elliot snaps. “This was Sal and his goddamn goons. It’s started. They’re sending a message.”
“What message?”
“Logan needs to let them in, or they won’t stop.”
“He can’t work with the mob,” I say reflexively.
Elliot glares at me. “The mob always gets their way, Piper.” He pulls into the parking lot, shaking his head. “I’m going to talk to Logan. Try to keep your head down. Don’t let any of this concern you. You’re doing a good job. Just focus on that.”
“Elliot.” I touch his arm before he bolts from the car. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”
Hello, hypocrisy…
“I meant what I said,” he tells me. “You don’t need to worry about this. But Logan does.”
I head up to the office, nerves swirling in my belly. I much prefer the sensations Logan provokes in me, the shimmering lust, the desire… even if it comes with an army of guilt on its heels.
Before I can sit at my desk, Milo calls me into his office. “Piper,” he says, smiling. He moves his hand as if to put it on my shoulder and guide me to his desk. I move out of reach, wondering if this will become a problem.
Sure, kissing the CEO and talking dirty with him, that’s fine, but my manager touching my shoulder is the world’s biggest taboo, apparently. I feel like I’m living in some upside-down world.
“I wanted to invite you to a working dinner this evening,” he says. “I’m impressed with your latest copy, and I think we could work up a more general style guide going forward. But we’ve got enough work today to keep us busy…” He leans across the desk, his hand sliding closer. “What do you think?”
I swallow. This is awkward. But I can’t let it continue or even begin.
“Milo, sir, I’m sorry…” Urgh, why am I apologizing when he’s the one being inappropriate? “But I’m here to work, not to form any, you know, relationships or anything like that.”
It’s not the big stand I wanted to make, but at least I got it out there. Never mind that my cheeks are burning, and I can feel the blush moving down my neck. And never mind the beads of sweat slipping down my sides.
Milo laughs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, lord. Is that what I look like? I’m a touchy-feely person. That’s my bad. I’ve been warned about it before. Jeez. I get it.”
“Well, I’m not sure being touchy-feely with your employees is appropriate.”
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But it’s not what you think. It’s just my personality. Look…” He touches a picture frame on his desk, facing away from me, and turns it to show a photo of him and another man, their arms wrapped around each other. “That’s me and my husband.”
I laugh. “Are you freaking serious?”
He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah, so, you know… I’m not saying my behavior couldn’t use a few tweaks. But you’re not really my type. The working dinner would be just that: a working dinner.”
“I feel like a douche.”
“Don’t be silly. If you ever feel like anything inappropriate is happening in the workplace, you’ve got every right to raise concerns.”
What if I’m fantasizing about the CEO of the whole company? What if we’re doing more than fantasizing?
“Thanks,” I tell him. “In that case, yes, a working dinner sounds great.”
I spend the rest of the day rooted to my chair, stubbornly focusing on my work. It’s not just that I want to do well here. When I’m thinking about work and choosing the best words and phrases to connect our product with people, I don’t have to think about Logan.
That’s until Milo approaches my desk. “Hey, big shot,” he says, his tone friendly. I obviously misjudged him. “Mr. Wolfe would like to see you in his office. Something about the prototypes.”
“Shouldn’t you go?” I ask.