He waits a moment before responding. “It’s excellent, Charlotte. I’m proud of you.”
I smile to myself. The list has over two hundred items and I had to rank each one from zero, being an absolutely hard limit, to five, being very interested, please do. Most of the list landed at three, which means curious. Naturally.
I know I’m supposed to keep my head down, but I can’t resist the urge to watch his face as he reads the list. To be honest, most of the items were hard to rank because they involved sex, and Emerson and I don’t have that kind of relationship, yet. All I know is that the more I’m with him and the more he pushes me past my limits, the more I want.
He doesn’t say a word as he browses, and his poker face doesn’t give much away. All I know is he’s reading things like…
Paddling, three.
Caning…two.
Serving, five.
Bondage…three.
Boot licking, zero.
Sex. No answer.
In fact, everything in the sex category is blank, from hand jobs to fisting—zero on the last one if I had to rank it.
It feels like forever that he reads the papers, and I’m sick with anticipation. I keep waiting to be scolded like a child. And I regret not at least putting a three or four under the sex categories, but how could I?
If I’ve learned anything this past month and a half, it’s that I should ask for what I want, and that sex doesn’t need to be so serious. It’s supposed to be fun and feel good, and that’s what I want…so why didn’t I ask for it?
From my boss.
Beau’s dad.
God, what am I thinking?
“Interesting,” he says without looking at me. Then he just sets the paper down on the desk and turns his gaze to me. “I’m not interested in physical punishment, so you don’t have to worry about the caning or the paddling. But you left a few of them blank, Charlotte.”
I clear my throat. “I didn’t know…”
“Sex isn’t necessary, you understand that, right?”
“Yes.”
“In fact,” he adds. “I’m willing to teach you what you need to know to be a proper submissive, but we have to maintain an appropriate relationship. You’re still my employee, and Beau’s…friend.”
Disappointment washes over me. “Okay.”
“For now, I want you to go back to your desk and do your tasks for the day. You’ll be silent and only address me as Sir if you have a question. Otherwise, you’ll stay at your desk, and when I need you, I’ll call you over and you’ll do what I say. Is that clear?”
I’m hit with another wave of disappointment. Just be silent at my desk? That’s it? “Yes, Sir,” I reply obediently.
“Good girl. On your feet then.” He reaches a hand down, and I place my fingers in his as he lifts me to a standing position. Once I’m upright, his gaze drifts down from my face to my blouse, noticing my black bra again like he did on my first day.
“Go ahead, then. Get to work,” he says, and his voice sounds a touch strained as if that’s not quite what he wanted to say. As if he’s holding back.
I’m restless in my chair as I work for the next hour. He asks me to get him coffee and to put in a delivery order for lunch, but for the most part, it’s a regular work day. But unlike every other work day, I’m silent and I miss talking to him.
After lunch, he has a video conference meeting planned with Garrett, Hunter, and Maggie. Apparently, they have something to discuss with their lawyer, and I’m a little nervous about what he expects me to do while he’s on the call.
“Charlotte, come here.”
Getting up from my desk, I walk over to him, and he gestures for me to come to his side. Once I’m there, he takes my hand.
“I want you to kneel by my side while I’m on the call, okay? No one will see you.”
“Okay,” I mumble, and he gives me a curious glare. “I mean, yes…Sir.”
“Very good. Go get your pillow.”
When I return with the cushion for my knees, I drop onto the floor. I’m resting in the space just next to his chair, but hidden behind his desk…and I hate it. He does a little on his computer while I wait, and I honestly start questioning everything I have chosen to do up to this point. This isn’t what I expected at all. I expected him to pay attention to me. I expected for it to be sexy, and at some point, I expected something, anything, to feel good. Where is this beloved subspace everyone online raves about?
His meeting starts and he and his co-owners start chatting, but I can’t do anything. At least before, I would take notes and be useful. This is ridiculous. I’m just staring at his desk, hidden like a dirty secret. But I’m going to see this through. I’ll tell him later that I just didn’t like being ignored. He’ll understand.
When the lawyer gets on the call, Maggie does most of the talking, and I notice Emerson start to tense up. He looks down at me with a furrow between his brows, and I gaze up at him. Everything about this feels wrong. Shouldn’t I be doing something?
Just then, he reaches down and brushes my hair out of my face. With his eyes still longingly locked on mine, he strokes my hair again and again.
I want to resist. I’d like to express how demeaning this is and how stupid I feel, but there’s something I didn’t anticipate with every ounce of his attention. There’s this visceral connection between us, and it’s stronger than any I’ve felt before with other guys. He’s touching me with adoration, and I can see his shoulders soften as he does, the tension melting off of his face.
In the background, Maggie and the lawyer just keep talking, but Emerson’s not listening and neither am I. Right now we exist in our own separate world.
He gently rolls back his chair and turns toward me, exposing his leg to me, and I instinctually rest my cheek against his thigh.
“Perfect,” he whispers almost silently. And I swim in his praise.
He’s not taking anything I’m not willfully giving. This relationship is symbiotic and wholly powerful. Intoxicating almost.
His large hand brushes through my hair, and I shut my eyes, trying to absorb the way his confidence and calmness washes over me. I wonder if he can feel it too; I have a feeling he can, and I’m almost certain this connection is mutual.
“Emerson,” Maggie calls from the computer, and he freezes, looking up at her. It breaks the silence, and I almost hate her for it. “Can you have Charlotte transfer over those files after our meeting? I’m going to go over them tonight.”
“Yes, I can,” he replies, and I gaze up at him. They can’t see me on the camera, and unlike fifteen minutes ago, I suddenly love feeling like his dirty little secret. Because now it feels deliberate. His attention is deliberate. And that’s what I really want, more than I care to admit.
It makes me wonder if the rest of them suspect I’m down here, doing this for him every day. They know what Emerson likes. They know he hires girls for this, and although he’s told them I’m just his secretary, they might suspect that I’m also doing this. For some reason, I really want them to know. Suddenly, I want everyone to know.
I’ve never had a desire to be claimed before, but suddenly, it’s like I need the world to know I belong to Emerson Grant. Which is ridiculous.
The meeting comes to an end, and our work day resumes in the same way it started. For the first time in a long time, I’m relieved when five o’clock rolls around. Not because I didn’t like certain moments of this very strange day, but because I’m ready to go back to being Charlotte and Emerson again. Just us.
Looking up from my desk at five, I realize that I don’t quite know what to do at this point. Do I call end scene and say goodbye like nothing weird happened here today?
Almost as if he could read my mind, he looks up at me. “That’s enough for today, Charlotte.”
“Yes, Sir,” I reply by habit. Hesitantly, I stand up and start gathering my things. I can feel his eyes on me.
“What did you think?”
I turn toward him with my purse on my shoulder. With a shrug, I say, “It was different. But I liked it.”