That was a lie. I knew exactly why I was distracted. I’d been thinking about that green-eyed stranger even though I was clearly supposed to be focused on my job. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. The taste of salt and sunshine had lingered into my Monday, and as I’d stared at the stream of water flowing from the teapot, I’d wondered if there was any way to capture that exact flavor.
But it hadn’t been the first time thoughts of the new Open Door guest had preoccupied my mind that day. As I’d scratched my name down to collect the inter-office files from the financial department, I’d remembered the scrape of the stranger’s beard against my skin. As I answered the phones, my cheery greeting professional as always, “Hudson Pierce’s office, how may I help you?” it was the stranger’s voice I imagined on the other end of the line. When Hudson’s wife wheeled in her newborn twins in the double stroller at lunch, I was thinking of...
Well, I wasn’t thinking of having babies with the man. It had just been a kiss, and I was pretty sure I could only be fond of children that weren’t my own.
But I did fantasize for a moment that I had my own lunch date, that the mysterious bearded man would walk in with two cups of espresso in place of the babies and take me to Marea for strozzapreti. Instead, I’d sat at my desk and eaten homemade chicken salad while I caught up on my digital filing.
And now I’d made a mess in front of one of my boss’s biggest investors.
“It’s all right, darling,” Mr. Stoker said, sneaking a peek down my blouse as I mopped hot water from the table beside him. I glanced up at my boss, Hudson Pierce, who smiled apologetically for the demeaning darling.
Honestly, I didn’t mind. It wasn’t the first time one of his business associates had been sexist, and it wouldn’t be the last time. As long as the men didn’t touch me or say anything that was outright crude, I had no complaints. And if anyone did either of those things, I knew Hudson would have them thrown out of his office immediately. He was a great boss and a respectable man. The looks of longing and the covert sexual glances from the business partners—they were simply part of the job.
It hadn’t actually been Hudson who had hired me to be his secretary. Almost nine years ago now, soon after I started going to the Open Door, Human Resources had selected me for the position. While I knew my skills were exceptional and that I’d shown up for my interview with an unprecedented resume, there was no question that I was also hired for my looks. Pierce Industries was one of the top firms in the city—in the world, even. Hudson Pierce, a young billionaire following in his father’s footsteps at the time, was on track to be the next big thing. Only the smartest and the richest, the wealthiest and most innovative, crossed into his space. And I was their first contact with the man. I was the one who answered his phones. I was the one who greeted them at the door. I had to be capable and competent, and attractive.
Maybe it was a terrible expectation of the world, that my face or my figure should matter at all when these captains of industry were making important tech deals and arguing media space or real estate. But even if it offended my modern sensibilities, it was realistic. Powerful men believed they should be surrounded by beauty at all times. I wasn’t na?ve to that, and neither was Human Resources.
And though he hadn’t chosen me himself, neither was Hudson Pierce. He knew what the men he dealt with wanted from me. And I made sure to give it.
But the reason I was able to tolerate it had nothing to do with my na?veté and everything to do with the Open Door.
In my mind, my job went hand-in-hand with the parties. I doubted I’d find Saturday nights at the Open Door as thrilling and as sensational if there weren’t five full days of buildup beforehand. Working as Hudson Pierce’s secretary, I met and greeted the same rich and powerful men who came to the parties. I served them, I giggled at their bad pickup lines, I flirted with them quietly as they not-so-discreetly checked out my legs. Every day, the senators, the wealthy tycoons, the CEOs were strolling in and out of the doors right past me, never realizing I was the same woman who sucked them off on the weekends.
It was a hell of a power trip to be the one who served them all day, every day, attending to their every whim and need, organizing their businesses, shuffling the details of their lives, all while knowing that they stared at my ass as I walked by. Knowing they’d go home and fantasize about bending me over the desk, devastated they’d never have the thrill of touching me.
I was the only one who knew that when I showed up on the weekends with my mask on and my hair down, those men were still thinking about Trish Bisceglia. Still imagining the secretary they’d flirted with, even while they sucked and teased the masked stranger called T.
The secrecy and the role reversal the situation provided gave me so much power. It put me in control of their desire, unbeknownst to them. In many ways it was the best part of the kink life. Saturdays might have been when the parties took place. But Monday through Friday? That was the foreplay.
I liked the foreplay best when I was the one directing the show.
For some reason, the new guy with the delicious kisses had me feeling like he was the one in the director’s chair.
I had to get myself together.
“I think I got it all, Mr. Stoker. Again, very sorry. Won’t happen again.” I looked to Hudson to make sure he didn’t need anything before I slipped out of his office and back to my desk in the lobby.
Once I was safely seated in my own chair, I let out a long exhale and gave myself a much-needed pep talk. “They think about you. You don’t think about them,” I muttered to myself with my eyes closed until I felt prepared to go on with my work.
When I opened them again, Hudson’s next appointment was standing in front of me. He was ten minutes early, and I swear to God, what I saw when I looked up his tall, muscular frame, was the face of the stranger.
I blinked and shook my head. This was getting ridiculous. It was one thing to imagine his voice, to remember the sexy, delicious taste of his lips, but quite another to fantasize that he was standing right in front of me.
But even after blinking my eyes, it was still his face staring down at me.
“How…” I paused, forgetting how words worked, which wasn’t how this usually went. I saw men all the time in the office after they’d been at the Open Door, and never ever got flustered. I shook my head again. “I apologize, sir. How may I help you?”
My heart was beating so fast I wondered if he could see my chest moving with its palpitations. Maybe he wasn’t even here to see Hudson. Maybe he had gotten the wrong office. I didn’t know if that would be better or worse. I was too off guard to know how to react.
“I’m here to see Hudson Pierce. Nathan Sinclair.” He introduced himself in the same low, rumbling voice he’d used in my ear on Saturday. “Creative Director from Reach, Inc. I have an appointment.”
I’d spoken to his secretary. I’d been the one to put it on the books. All the time I’d been thinking about him, he’d been scheduled to come here. How had it been so fortuitous that I’d met him—that I’d kissed him—only this weekend?