often feel like this on the precipice of a new deal or the start of a new project. When I’m about to build something up. Or tear someone down. I take my drink to the windows to admire the view. My enjoyment isn’t derived from the ocean or the cloudless blue sky but rather from a moment. An extraordinary moment. One Rose cannot possibly anticipate.
I finish my drink, and on my way back to my desk, I pick up, then examine a small box from the credenza I haven’t noticed before. I make a couple of slow laps of the room to finish my drink, of course, then place my glass back in the bar, close it, and take my seat behind my desk. Cuffs straightened, I pick up my pen and glance at the video intercom. Her chin resting on her fist, her thumb scrolls rapidly through her phone as her foot bounces in the air, taut like the string of a bow.
Excellent.
I press the buzzer.
‘You can go in now,’ Paulette murmurs, disabling the door’s automatic lock.
It takes Rose a moment to work the dozen or so handles over both wrists, then she grasps the remainder of the packages and strides purposefully in the direction of the door. One sharp knock for courtesy and she barrels in; all guns blazing, is I believe the idiom.
‘Rose. What can I do for you?’
I purposely don’t look up. Not even as the packages and bags hit my desk and overflow, though I do move a small box aside as it hits the document I’m purportedly examining.
‘I guess first you can tell me what all this is.’ In the periphery of my vision, she folds her arms across her magnificent chest. With any other woman, I might assume this was a calculated move. But not with Rose, confirmed as I look up and notice the angry finger tattoo tapping against her upper arms.
‘It looks like shopping. Business or pleasure?’
‘What?’ Her eyes flare. The mention of pleasure?
Capping my pen, I sit back in my seat and raise my gaze. My God, she is beautiful. Is it because I haven’t seen her for days that makes her seem such much more so? And she’s wearing my favourite dress of hers; the linen one that makes her look like she’s stepped out of a Sophia Loren remake. Maybe Boy on a Dolphin. I know if she stands in front of the window, the thin linen will reveal her glorious shape. But I’m not in the mood for schoolboy thrills. There are bigger things at play.
‘Well, these are clearly shopping bags.’ I poke them with my pen. ‘Chanel, Dior, Gucci, and is that something from Piaget?’
‘Are you telling me you don’t know anything about these?’
‘I know they’re expensive?’ I offer, leaning back in my chair.
‘You’re fucking with me.’
My cock flickers to life as her teeth graze her full bottom lip; the words enunciated angrily. Angrily or not, it still turns me on. God, I’ve missed you, ma Rose. ‘I’d like to.’
‘Stop it. You stop that right now!’ Her eyes narrow and blaze gold. ‘Your sexy little half smile and Frenchy-French accent won’t get you anywhere with me today.’
‘How about tomorrow? Can you fit me in your schedule then? I’ll bring the accent. And the tongue.’
‘You—’
‘Fit me into your schedule, Rose. I’ll fuck you whenever. Wherever.’ My eyes drink her in, every inch of her. ‘However.’
‘Urgh!’
Wide eyes and pink cheeks tell me she caught my underlying meaning perfectly.
I aim to own her everywhere.
For a moment, I think she might stamp her feet. Kick my desk? I love that she has such a temper. I look forward to reaping makeup benefits for many years to come. Because, yes, that’s where I am right now. This thing between us is going all the biting, scratching, fighting before making up again way.
‘You don’t get to say these things to me.’ This time, her eyes flare as I push from my desk. She looks up and up again as I straighten to my full height and begin to round the edge of it. ‘I told you to stay away from me.’
‘And I have. But you’re in my office. You sought me out.’
‘Because of these,’ she says, throwing out her hand as she steps backwards, creating distance between us. I don’t want her to go too far away, so I perch myself on the edge of my desk.