“Aeron. Stop reading that page.” Leo, who has taken to entering my office without knocking, is suddenly peering over my shoulder. She walks her fingers to my shirt collar, absent-mindedly stroking the naked skin beneath. “You’ll just make yourself mad.”
“Fuck that.” I grab her fingers, plant a kiss over her knuckles, and then scoot forward to type.
“What are you doing?”
Clickety click. “Donating.”
“Aeron!” She lunges forward, grabbing at me. “You can’t just draw attention to this crap—”
“Oh, be quiet. Come on, Ash is my son? Seriously? Who is this even news for?” I roll my eyes. “Buzzfeed. Perez Hilton. Huff Post, if they’re lucky.”
Leo attempts to wrestle my hands off the keyboard, but then she just ends up in my lap, all gentle weight and warm curves.
I catch her chin and squeeze it, grinning. “Humour me, sweetheart.”
She glares from beneath a side-swept curtain of blond hair.
“I’m getting in here before Montgomery does.” How that pisstoad managed to recover from the twink scandal, I’ll never know. His wife even stuck by him. “How much should I donate?”
“There’s someone here to meet you.” Her voice is monotone and icy, but there’s no mistaking the slight wiggle of her hips. She’s sitting right on my cock. And knows it.
“You finally decided to introduce me to your mother?”
“That’s not funny.”
I love the way eye contact unnerves Leo. It’s like forcing her to remember what I am. “Or maybe you called that crackpot psychologist to come analyze me.” The waistband of her skirt gapes in this position; I yank up her shirt hem and sink a hand down to cup her buttock. Then I close my eyes and imagine the soft parting of skin, the rivulets of scarlet oil wet in my palm. My voice is all hot air soaking into her clothes. “Maybe here, next. What do you say?”
“Listen.” She presses her forehead to mine, her warm breath spilling over my cheeks. Then she takes my bottom lip between her teeth and slowly, slowly releases it. There’s no hiding the fact that she’s trembling; a common occurrence recently, as if her waking hours are one long adrenaline binge. “I’m going to fetch her in now, and I want you to promise to be nice. Or your version of nice.”
“You really did bring your mother,” I say against her mouth.
“Mmm. Not happening.” She nuzzles into my neck for a moment, colouring the air with her molten candle scent. Then she’s easing away, straightening up her pinstripe skirt, and tottering toward the door in her heels. “Just a sec,” she calls without looking back.
Since Leo’s been somewhat stressed lately, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt for second and pretend she hasn’t hired me a new assistant.
Let’s all take a pause. Ready?
Breathe in, grasshoppers. And out. Ahh.
Goddamn. She’s hired me a new assistant.
I could not be in a worse mood for this shit, and now I have to paste on the decent boss face because I’ve got zero time to think through my game plan. The last time I got close to a stranger, she waited until I’d formed a (frankly impressive and improbable) attachment to her, then she betrayed me. Also tried to murder me. Granted, she changed her mind post-murder attempt and she’s still filling out shirts nicely, but I can’t keep neutralizing threats just by fucking them. This new employee had better come with a whole Louis Vuitton luggage set full of leverage, or I’m firing her ass before morning coffee.
The door slides open and Leo reappears. A tall woman strides behind her, all scraped back hair, business casual and resting bitch face, although she avoids my eyes on sight. Both women are suddenly framed by my twin screens, where NN24 and Truth Daily run on mute; flashing lights bounce over their faces like a rolling kaleidoscope. They’re running the Blood Honey update again and Truth Daily even has a flashy little logo for him in a ragged crimson font.