The Vessel - Jenika Snow Page 0,4
had been working for me for the last few months, and although I hadn’t hired her on—and when I did see her, we shared a brief smile or greeting, but pretty much zero communication—there was absolutely no denying she lit my blood on fire. I couldn’t even say what it was about her, couldn’t pinpoint why she made me feel unraveled in ways I never felt before.
She was gorgeous—that went without saying—but not made-up in the way socialites were. She had a mass of long, silky black hair that she kept secured at her nape. I only knew it was long, because when she first started, I noticed her pinning the locks up one morning before I left for work.
The thoughts that slammed into my head on what I wanted to do to her, how I wanted to wrap my fingers in the strands and jerk her head back to expose her throat, had been so intense that I’d gone to the bathroom and jerked one off real quick.
It had been in that moment I knew keeping things professional and keeping my distance with her was for the best.
But keeping my distance and being professional didn’t mean I wasn’t fucking her in my head any chance I got.
I pictured her standing just a few feet from me moments before, her big eyes this unusual shade of gray. I could look into them and instantly know she took in the world with an open mind, probably knowing struggle and heartache, maybe even knowing love.
The latter caused distaste in my mouth and a tightening in my belly.
I went to the fridge and opened it, grabbing another bottle. Tonight was the night for getting blackout drunk. It was the only quick fix to help after my father screwed me over one last time. I didn’t even know how he did it, making that shit legal, able to pull my entire life out from under me, but he managed.
It was never about love or caring for your family with him. It was only about growth and success. More money and keeping his fucking name going on long after he rotted in the ground.
I leaned against the counter again and popped the cap, bringing the bottle to my mouth and taking another long pull. I thought about Elise. I was good at reading people. It was my job to be able to weed out a prospective client or foe. But although I could pick up on little things here and there about her, I could also tell she kept herself shrouded, this wall around her.
A protective mechanism.
Had she been hurt? Maybe by a lover, a family member?
I wanted to know about her, to learn about what made her tick. I shouldn’t. I was her boss and she worked for me rather intimately in my home, but regardless, she made me curious, and a woman hadn’t done that—ever.
I lifted my free hand and ran it over the back of my neck, feeling exhausted, which had nothing to do with being physically tired and everything to do with being mentally drained. I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do about the whole heir thing. I did want children, wanted a wife, all that. I wanted those whole nine yards. But having a baby with someone I didn’t care about, or using a surrogate just so I didn’t lose the business, sounded pretty fucked up to me. And losing everything I worked so fucking hard for, a passion I put blood, sweat, and tears into my entire life, was equally just as fucked up.
I finished off the beer and tossed the empty bottle into the recycling bin. I grabbed the bottle of scotch, put the square-cut glass in the sink—because tonight, I didn’t need anything fancy but instead would guzzle right out of the bottle—and headed into my study.
When I said I’d get wasted, that’s exactly what I planned on doing. At least I’d have a reprieve from my thoughts for one night. I’d feel like shit in the morning, but I’d deal with the consequences of that then. Seeing as tomorrow was Saturday, I had no plans on heading into the office, and instead I would deal with my hangover and try to figure out what the hell I was going to do.
But tonight… tonight, I was getting trashed and saying fuck it.
4
Elise
I should have told Merla I wasn’t going into work on the weekend. Those two days were for me, although I didn’t