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“Yes,” she says. “I want you to be part of it.”
“Okay, princess. I’ll be there.”
I leave her then and retreat to my own room, where I spend the next twenty minutes in the shower, aching with desire but refusing to fist my cock, the image of her body burned into my brain.
When I’m done, I shut off the water, roughly dry off, and pull on a clean suit before sending a copy of her updated questionnaire to the others and marking it urgent. I don’t know what Dash has in store for her tonight, but I want to make sure everyone knows exactly what her limits are.
Done, I head downstairs to cook. I remember from her interview that she said she loved lasagne, but I won’t cook that again. Instead, I opt for another simple pasta dish and open a bottle of wine that will pair well with it. It’s probably not the best idea after her Scotch earlier, but she’s slept since then and will be having food, so I think one small glass under my watchful eye will be fine. I’ll make sure to tell Frost not to serve her anything tonight too.
I’m just turning off the sauce when I hear her coming down the stairs.
A moment later she enters the kitchen, looking incredible, like something off the cover of a magazine. She’s put on a white button-down shirt – one I swear is mine – which swallows her up but reveals just enough cleavage and thigh to drive me crazy with desire.
I want to tear the shirt off her and bury my face between her tits. I want to wrap the hem of the shirt around my hand and use it to lead her, naked and blindfolded, into the bedroom. I want her laid out on my bed, her wrists bound with my tie and her thighs spread for me as I lick her pussy to an orgasm. I can’t believe I only used my fingers upstairs when the chance to taste her was right in my lap.
“Smells amazing,” she says, inhaling deeply and snatching me from my fantasies. She leans in close, her breasts brushing against my arm, and her scent floods my senses.Shesmells fucking amazing. How the hell am I meant to stand by andjustwatch tonight?
“It’s just pasta. I figured if lasagne was your favourite, you’d probably enjoy other Italian dishes.”
“I do,” she replies, grinning wildly at me. “My friend, Elle, makes amazing pasta. She’s the best.”
“Well, I hope I can measure up,” I tease her smoothly, loving the way she blushes.
“You more than measure up,” she replies, not meeting my eye. I wonder if she meant it to sound as seductive as it did.
Dinner doesn’t take long, and when we sit down to eat, I keep the conversation light to keep her nerves at bay. She tells me a bit about her friend and how she came to be living with her and working for us without going into too much detail. I file the information shedoesgive me away to share with the others later. Is it wrong? Maybe. But I don’t give a flying fuck. She’s confiding in me, sure, but I also have a requirement as her employer to ensure her safety, and knowing her ex is a piece of shit is important. From a personal viewpoint, I plan to find out everything I can about that fucker and discover if he’s the one behind the vandalism. I make a mental note to speak to Don specifically about that because I know he’s been working onfixing up her flat today. If heisto blame, he won’t be sniffing around her for long. Just like the piece of shit from last night.
Jesus. The list of mysteries surrounding this girl is growing by the minute, but there’s too many sensitive subjects to dance around to ask her questions outright and risk triggering another panic.
Eventually it’s almost time to go to the club. We finished dinner long ago, but pushed the plates to one side so we could continue talking. Candy barely touched her wine, opting for a glass of water instead, which makes me proud.
“Do you want to get changed for the club?” I ask her, checking my watch. “We have a little time.”
“Umm, I don’t really know what to wear. I mean, North usually leaves outfits in my locker, but last night you guys gave me the choice, and that’s the only dress I’ve got here…”
“Candy,” I reach out and take her hand in mine. “Don’t sweat it.”
“But, I don’t know what to expect tonight. Am I working or is it a night off? I’m just…confused about the boundaries I guess.”
“Boundaries?”
“I don’t want to assume anything, but I also don’t want to make a mistake,” she finishes quickly, looking away from me.
I’m not sure what to say, so I lean forward to pick up our dishes, saying nothing. Candy jumps up to help me, but I wave her off with a grin. “No way. You’re a guest here, remember? Relax.”
She sits back down at the table, clearly waiting for me to answer her questions. I rinse the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher. Then I lean back against the counter and fold my arms across my chest. “Tonight can be whatever you want it to be. You want to turn up in your heels and my shirt? Do it. Want to go in sweats and wear whatever’s in your locker? Fine. Don’toverthink it. Dash dropped some stuff off for you anyway, I left it by your bed. I just forgot to mention it earlier.”
She grins at me and nods. “Thanks.”
“You’re technically at work tonight, but you won’t be serving behind the bar. Just relax and have a good time. I know Dash will make sure you do.”
She shivers at my words but nods. “Okay. Well, I don’t think I should show up with my boss wearing just his shirt, so let me run upstairs and get changed, okay?”
“Of course. Vixen has messaged, offering to do your makeup. Apparently your look last night has inspired her and she wants to try something different – whatever that means.”
“Oh my god, tell her yes please,” Candy replies, pushing back from the table and dashing for the stairs before I can even reply.
Well, she’s certainly eager, I think with amusement.
