AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why not?” she asked.
Her question was said gently enough, but I still snapped at her. “Because I don’t want to lose my damn job, Farah! I need this job, okay? And if you think Aiden is going to give a shit about me over Mr. Rainer, you’re being incredibly naive. The only thing that will happen if I go to Aiden about Mr. Rainer is me losing my job, and if that happens, I’m fucked.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I sighed. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap or use bad language. I’m frustrated by my inability to show Mr. Rainer I’m not terribly incompetent, and I miss Jamie a lot. But today was just a bad day, and tomorrow will be better. I have to go, okay? Thank you for checking on me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I ended the call and turned my phone to silent. I was shaking again, and I hated how much Mr. Rainer’s rage had affected me. I checked my reflection in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, but you couldn’t tell I’d been crying. If Mr. Steele noticed my shaking, I would tell him I was cold. It wasn’t a complete lie. Marvin’s heater was on high, but it was still no match for the cold snap.
I grabbed my purse and climbed out of the car, hurrying to the front door and into the warmth of the house. I went upstairs and into the bathroom. I wore dress pants today, and I quickly peeled them off so I could take off my panties. I pulled them back on and removed my bra before smoothing my hair and smiling at myself.
“You’re good, Riley. You’re safe, and you’ll do a perfect job tonight, and Mr. Steele will be proud of you. You’re his good girl.”
CHAPTER 15
Riley
I left the bathroom and entered Mr. Steele’s office. He stood at the window, his back to me and his phone at his ear. His suit jacket was across the back of the couch, and I studied his broad shoulders in the navy blue shirt he wore before sinking gracefully to my knees.
I bowed my head and clasped my hands in my lap, grateful for the calmness that descended over me. I listened to Mr. Steele speak, drowning out the words and focusing on his deep voice's rise and fall.
By the time he’d finished his call, nearly ten minutes had passed, and my shaking and the nausea in my stomach had disappeared. I smiled happily when I felt his hand stroke my hair. “Good evening, Charlotte.”
“Good evening, Mr. Steele.” I lifted my gaze, studying his face in the warm light from the fire and the lamp in the corner.
He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. “Still not better.”
It was, I wanted to say. It was healed nicely until this morning. But I stayed quiet. Mr. Steele didn’t need to hear about my problems with my boss every time I was here.
“Your boss still an issue?” he asked.
“No,” I said, putting every last bit of energy into selling the lie. “It’s much better.”
His thumb still stroking my bottom lip, he studied me silently. With Herculean effort, I kept myself from fidgeting until finally, he nodded and said, “I’ve left work on your desk for you.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
He returned to his desk, and I sat at mine. It was another data entry spreadsheet, and I got to work. A few minutes later, Mr. Steele said, “Still no glasses, Charlotte?”
I cleared my throat and leaned back from the screen. “I’m getting them soon.”
He made a non-committal sound, and I did my best not to squint too hard while I worked. I was tired, my empty stomach started grumbling, and my eyes were gritty. I ignored my discomfort and kept working, but over an hour had passed when I finally emailed the spreadsheet to Mr. Steele. I’d never been so slow in returning work to him, and I hated the feeling of failure as I joined him at his desk and knelt on the cushion.
He cupped the back of my skull, and I leaned my cheek eagerly against his thigh. I closed my eyes as he combed through my hair with the gentleness I’d grown to love. If there was anything better than kneeling at Mr. Steele’s feet while he stroked my hair, I couldn’t think of what it might be. Right or wrong, this was my happy place, and I could have stayed here forever.
My stomach clenched tight when Mr. Steele said, “There are several mistakes, Charlotte.”
My eyes popped open, and I straightened, giving him an anxious look. He pointed to his screen. “You missed an entire row of entries here and here and here.”
Queasy and immediately on the verge of tears, I said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Steele.”
“It isn’t like you to be so careless,” he said, and the disappointment in his gaze was more than I could take.
Eager to fix my mistake and desperately trying not to cry like a pathetic loser, I focused on the only thing I could think of. I would give him a blow job. I would make him happy and show him I was his good girl.
He grunted in surprise when I wormed between his legs and reached for his belt. “I’m sorry, sir. Let me make it up to you.”
“Charlotte, stop,” he said.
