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"Archer," says the female voice on the other end of the line. "Hi. I was hoping to talk to your assistant. It's Sarah Harrington here."
Fuck. Sarah Harrington. Brooks’ wife.
"She stepped away. How can I help you?" I put on my most charming voice, hoping she can hear my smile on the other end of the line.
"I was just getting your contact info. I enjoyed meeting you and Hazel a couple of weekends ago."
"So did we."
"I'm throwing a birthday party at my place and wanted to invite y'all."
"We'll be happy to attend." I give her my email, and she says she'll send me the details.
This is another opportunity to meet Brooks, who still hasn't contacted me. I sent him a follow-up email, to which his assistant replied, saying he’d gone out of town and would respond soon. Well, soon still hasn’t happened. Is he super busy or buying time? I don't want the rapport diluted, and this birthday party is an excellent opportunity to strengthen it. I bet all of his partners and their wives will be there.
I hang up the phone, and excitement threads through me. Excellent. Who would have thought Hazel was my secret weapon all along?
I look at Hazel's desk, neat as usual.
I touch her drawer, the second one, and open it.
My heart races as I fumble with the scattered papers, searching for her journal. I searched for it last week before the temp took over her desk because I didn't want anyone to read it. I couldn't find it, which meant Hazel took it home. Smart girl.
I know it's wrong; it's violating the trust I don't even think we share yet, but I need to see if she wrote anything about me.
My cynical side says a journal like that can compromise me, and she can use it as evidence in a lawsuit.
With that rationalization, I touch it. I look at the time on the phone. In a few minutes, she'll be back.
I need to be quick.
I scan the page, and her words leap from the paper.
She still hates me. Great. I don't have to worry about an unlikely bond forming between us.
Then…
I feel fucking wrong that my pussy is in such an unfortunate state after you touched it.
I've been soaking wet like never before, and there's this pulsing ache between my legs that won't go away—masturbating is useless.
I rock back in the chair, restless. Lust stirs in my body, and it's like the air has been sucked from my lungs. Damn.
What she wrote before were her fantasies, but this… this is real. Based on what happened between us. I run my fingers down my face. Then I look at the clock on her monitor. Shit. I need to get out of here before she returns. I carefully put the journal back in the drawer and add the papers on top the same way as before.
I close the drawer, surge to my feet, and then return to my office, my recent discovery energizing me.
She wants me. It's not just fantasy.
And I want her.
I pause and question my motives. Do I only want Hazel because she's a novelty? Because she's wrong for me. Forbidden. I have never gotten intimate with an employee before. I know better, but common sense has no chance in this matter.
Hazel Dillon has the power to destroy my reputation with the jotting of a pen. I have the power to stop her, but this crazy desire is making it impossible to use it.
I look at the clock.
She's been gone for almost seven minutes.
