Empire of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,22

(That was me attempting to be discreet about wanting to have sex in your office … You know, since you clearly have no idea what romance is…)

Michael: Good. I will put you out next time. (Yes, you can stop by Fahrenheit 900 so I can lay you back on my desk and eat your pussy, before bending you over the wood and filling you with my cock from behind. Discreet enough?)

I blushed and started to type a new message. Over the past few weeks, he’d surpassed all of my wildest fantasies in bed, showed me just how many times I could come in a single night, and pushed my body to its ultimate limit. Our “one more date” had long turned into every other night, and each one ended with sex that stamped its way onto my memory.

I still wanted more, though. More talking. More romance. More us.

“Um, Meredith?” My father waved his hand in front of my face, interrupting my thoughts in the middle of brunch. “Meredith?”

“Huh?” I blinked a few times. “What’s going on?”

“Well, you’ve done nothing but blush and stare at your phone for the past twenty minutes, so I was wondering if it would be okay if we could talk for five minutes without it.”

“I’m sorry.” I set my phone on the table. “I didn’t even realize I was doing that.”

“It’s okay.” He gently tapped my hand and signaled for a waitress. “New boyfriend?”

“I’m not sure yet.” I bit my lip before I could say something personal; We weren’t even halfway there yet. “We just really like each other.”

“Hmmm. Well, hopefully one day you’ll be comfortable enough to let him meet me over dinner.”

I nodded, saying nothing. I wasn’t getting my hopes up on rebuilding anything just yet. Even though my heart was ready to jump all in, he’d let me down too many times before.

The moment the waitress took our orders and walked away, my father gently grabbed my hand atop the table and looked into my eyes.

“Look, Meredith,” he said, “I am a terrible father, and I know that to my core. I was also quite terrible to your mother, and I wish there was a way to make things up with her, like I plan to make things up with you.” He looked more genuine than I’d ever known him to be. “I don’t want to take the time I have left with you for granted anymore, and I would like to meet up with you for once a week until…Until you feel like we don’t need weekly check-ins to be around each other. I really want to be a part of your life, and I want to show you I’m capable of being a good father. Please let me.”

I blinked, unsure of what to say. I felt tears pricking my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

“I’m also willing to file the cancellation paperwork for the campaign,” he said.

“I thought you did that already…”

“I did.” He smiled, squeezing my hand. “You have to go through five stages to file to run and fifteen stages to get out of it.”

I laughed and squeezed his hand in return. “Okay. We can start over. How’s every Sunday?”

“Perfect.” He let my hand go, and asked me about my day. Before I could answer, the hostess approached our table with a huge bouquet of flowers. It was three dozen white roses, with six black roses standing in their center.

“Oh, wow,” my dad said. “Who are those from?”

I opened the small envelope and blushed once I read the words.

I like you.

I’m outside in my car.

Come out and fuck me once you’re done.

(Is this ‘romantic’ enough for you?)

“My boss,” I said, putting the note away. “She’s really proud of me these days.”

“So, I’ve heard.” He nodded. “Tell me a bit more about that…”

Michael

Before

There was no easy way to admit it. I’d fucked things up in the worst way possible, and the only way things could possibly be salvageable, was if I were to suddenly burst into flames.

I was dating someone for the first time in damn near two decades. Someone who I actually liked outside of the bedroom.

She infiltrated my thoughts when I least expected it, made my nights better with her contagious, raspy laughter, and she kept my mind guessing with her random conversations about nothing at all.

Not only that, but I was willingly sending her gifts. Fucking flowers every day.

In all my years of work, I’d never crossed the line with a target. I’d infiltrated their