might not be able to keep. Sometimes the dance ends badly or isn’t to the tempo I thought.” He grinned suddenly. “Sorry about sticking to the dance analogy. A bad outcome is rare, but it happens. I’m not perfect—as much as it might pain me to admit it.” Then the flash of amusement was gone, and he returned to his serious employer role. “Okay, good. I’m glad you got all of that information out of Arturo West’s meeting. It’s a solid start to the sorts of things I think you should learn while you’re here.”
I nodded. That all sounded promising. More promising than just making coffee in the corner of the office, anyway.
“Have you been shown how to access the case files on the system? Each client has a record that tells you where their file is in the building. We’d love to be paperless, but…” He shrugged. “There are so many letters and calendars and other assorted bits of correspondence that we keep on hand. Once you’ve found out who has the file or which drawer it’s in, you can check it out yourself, and notate it on the computer. Look, I’ll show you on my machine.” He beckoned me over and I stood, uncertainty filling me as I moved closer to him. I took shallow breaths as my shoulder brushed against his, and I studied the screen until my eyes watered so I didn’t think of him so close to me.
“Lastly for today, here’s the client appointment schedule for the rest of the week. I want you to study it, then access the relevant case files. You should be caught up by tomorrow morning.” He broke off, his face close to mine as he studied me, and my breath caught. “If you think you can.”
I didn’t miss the note of challenge in his voice, but Nico had forgotten I lived for challenge—in my family, I had to. And as Nico walked away and opened a filing cabinet drawer, his shoulders stiff, it was starting to look like he might be my biggest challenge of all.
I arrived home, my messenger bag bulging, and I called out a greeting to an empty house. Mom was probably at one of her charity drives, or consulting on a surgical case—they called her in for her expertise almost as often as they had when she’d actually worked there—and Dad schmoozing new contacts in the golf club. Nico had given me permission to bring some case files home to study, and I headed straight up the polished concrete stairway to my bedroom to unload everything onto my large desk.
I worked for hours, until the darkness outside forced me to turn on a lamp and draw my blinds. My parents still hadn’t arrived home, but that wasn’t unusual. A lot of the time, I lived like the house was mine. Mom kept enough leftover food in the fridge that I wouldn’t starve—like she’d forgotten I’d grown enough to work the stove on my own. Or I could call Tori if I wanted to go out. He rarely said no.
But I was nearly there. Just one last case to study before I felt confident that I knew them all well enough to impress Nico the next day. By the time I resurfaced from details of living wills and guardianship, I glanced at the clock by my bed, and it was just after midnight.
My stomach grumbled in protest at missing a meal, but I shook my head. Making my way downstairs seemed like too much trouble. Breakfast would come soon enough. I wanted to be in early to replace the files before Nico needed them.
I flicked the switch to frost the glass wall of my bedroom and undressed before sliding between my bedsheets. The soft material whispered over my skin, and every nerve ending prickled in response to the touch.
Out of nowhere, my mind conjured an image of Nico, his soft, commanding voice telling me exactly how to please him, and my cock jerked upright, the erection I’d tried to keep under control all day, back and harder than ever.
As if under his spell, I wrapped my fingers around my cock and squeezed gently.
“Stroke it for me, Jamie.”
I heard his voice so clearly, and I bit my lip as I followed his directions, arching my back as I strained upward into my own fist. A gasp escaped me as I smoothed my thumb over the tip, smearing the bead of precum across my skin.