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On a particularly bad Wednesday, I sit at my desk, staring at Carol’s latest email with an irritated scowl. A reminder about the department meeting on Friday, which I had totally forgotten about, and will probably forget about again, and some new addendums to my current assignment.
I fire back a response, something quick and uncomplicated that I don’t have to apply my full brain power to, then reach for the squishy stress ball on my desk. I’m definitely not stressed. Declan takes care of that, for sure. But I just need something for my hands to do. Something that might help stop my mind from wandering.
There’s nothing powerful enough to keep my attention from drifting though. All I can think about is sex on Declan’s living room chair, the feeling of him inside me, with no barrier between us. It was unbelievably hot, but more than that, it was also the most intimate sex we’ve ever had. I felt like I could’ve merged with him completely. I felt like he could see straight into my soul.
I’ve been on cloud nine for the past few days. Whatever high I’ve managed to get from Declan, they should bottle it and sell it, and it would make ten times the profit that Dynasty’s products do.
Then they wouldn’t need a marketing team at all.
I groan, leaning back in my chair and staring at the ceiling. I’ve gotten almost nothing done today. It’s a nice problem to have, of course, but it’s still a problem. If I don’t get my act together, all of my earlier hard work will have been for nothing.
Hannah walks past my cubicle, a particular swing to her strut, and I have to withhold my sigh. I wonder what’s got her in such a good mood.
I lean out of my cubicle, watching as she strides to the coffee machine in the corner. While she’s there, Mark walks up beside her. She whispers something to him, her pencil-thin brows knit, then glances over in my direction.
My heart plummets, and I jerk back into my cubicle, hoping she couldn’t see me staring. All I can think is that she must’ve been talking about me. Why else would she look in my direction?
My hands ball into fists next to my keyboard. If Hannah has something to say, she can say it to my face.
I stand up, grabbing my own half-empty coffee mug, and head over to the coffee machine. As I approach, Mark looks up, a grimace on his face—that’s all the evidence I need.
“Hi,” I say, nodding at them as I approach. A sour look wrinkles Hannah’s face.
“Do you really have the time to be taking a coffee break?” she asks, somewhat pointedly.
Mark lets out a low breath through gritted teeth, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here.
I raise an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? It’s two minutes away from my desk. Not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal for people like us,” Hannah says, indicating herself and Mark, who by now is sidling away from her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “You know—who are actually in the office working late when we have deadlines coming up.”
I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from getting riled up by one barbed comment. It’s difficult though. Hannah’s coming for my professional reputation with bared teeth.
“Not sure what the problem is,” I say. “I’m in here nine to five every day. I’m good at my job.”
“Well, the deadline for Carol’s social media writeup was last Friday at end-of-day,” Hannah replies, her arms folded. “And you know who was here at the office until ten the night before, rushing to get it done?”
I shoot a guilty look at Mark.
“Right. Us.” Hannah shakes her head, scowling. “And where were you? What did you have on a Thursday night that was so important that you couldn’t help us?”
Declan.
If memory serves, we were at his place that night. He made me fresh sauteed scallops, and we tried out a new whiskey before a vigorous, four-hour-long sex session. I don’t regret it in the slightest.
“Okay,” I say, a little miffed and more than a little embarrassed, “I’m in here every day at nine, and I don’t leave until—”
“Oh, give me a break,” says Hannah. “You know everyone in here is working their asses off. When we’ve got projects, we’re not working nine-to-five. If you had a little more initiative, you’d be in here helping us. This isn’t the kind of company where you get to phone things in.”
Hannah doesn’t bother to keep her voice down, and I can see a few curious looks from passersby. As angry as I am at her for her unprofessionalism, I can’t help the tiny sense of shame in the back of my mind.
I was slacking off on Thursday. In fact, I think I might’ve even left the office early that day, buzzing with excitement over my impending evening with Declan.
I’ve been spending every scrap of spare time with him, drinking him in. I’d been blissfully unaware of the consequences. But now, even though I would never admit it to Hannah, it’s time to face the truth—this has been interfering with my work.
I need to deserve my place here.
“I happened to be busy that day,” I retort. I can’t let myself get pushed around by the likes of Hannah, even if she has a point. She also has a chip on her shoulder when it comes to me, so of course she’ll be looking to confront me over something like this—something relatively small, that isn’t a pattern, not yet.
