Authors: Elena Black
"You can tell her I've changed my mind. I'll take her case. Hopefully the judge will allow for a continuation, give me a few weeks to clear some space around here. Just in case, I need you to talk to Hennessey. Get him to take my patent case."
"How? Why me?" she muttered, dazed and confused by what had just happened between them and by Michael's seeming change of heart.
He grinned. "He likes the way your legs look in a skirt, too."
##
7.
Things were… strange. No, Laney thought. That was unkind. Things were exciting. Mind numbingly pleasurable. Confusing. Even heartbreaking. But as uncomfortable as she had been with the idea of entering into a strictly sexual relationship, Laney could no longer deny that she felt more with Michael than she had ever felt in her life. He brought out a side of her she'd never experienced. In his threats to punish her, he'd actually freed an assertive part of Laney she hadn't known existed. She enjoyed toying with him, taunting him into taking her, breaking his willpower until he ha
d to have her, no matter who else might be around, no matter how close they might come to being discovered.
Their relationship - she hesitated to call it that, but any other word she could think of felt too unseemly to describe
how she felt when she was with him - was relegated to the confines of the office. She had never asked him to accompany her home and he had never extended a similar invitation. Michael, for his part, seemed utterly content with things as they were. Though, what man wouldn't be, Laney thought ruefully. He could burn the midnight oil then take the edge off with a well timed blow job. What was there to dislike?
For all she was enjoying the sexual liberation in their relationship - and she was most assuredly enjoying it - Laney couldn't shake the feeling that the other shoe was hanging over her head, waiting to drop.
When it finally arrived, it turned out to be a pair of size five Louboutins.
Michael had called her into his office for lunch so they could go over the transcripts from a case he was trying. In reality, he had her straddle his lap in his office chair while she rode him for half an hour
. Afterward, they shared a Chinese chicken salad before she returned to her own desk. All in all, she had had worse lunch hours. Hell, she'd had worse
dates
, not that she thought of what she and Michael did as
dating
. It was the closest she'd come in months, though, and with a man as attractive as Michael it was hard not to enjoy the experience, however little it meant to him.
Because of their special lunch
meeting
, Laney had a few hairs out of place as she half wobbled back to her desk. She was making mental note to take up yoga again when a feminine but insistent throat clearing caused her to look up.
Standing in front of her desk was the most beautiful woman Laney had ever seen. She was blonde - not from a bottle, but the kind of fairy tale princess blonde every little girl with brown hair wished she could possess.
Her bone structure was fine, delicate, her suit obviously hand tailored, and she balanced effortlessly on five inch designer heels. In comparison, Laney felt cloddish and mousy, her off the rack suit announcing her for a fraud.
"
I’d like to see Michael," the woman said imperiously.
"
And you are?" Laney asked, immensely proud of herself when she didn't stutter.
"His girlfriend," the woman said, authority coloring her tone.
Laney paled. He had a
girlfriend
? Oh, God. No wonder he wasn't interested in a relationship. No wonder he was content to fuck her at the office and never made a move to take even a sexual coupling between them anywhere else. What kind of an idiot was she? It all made sense now and while his girlfriend stared at her with all the regality of a member of the royal family, Laney could feel the wetness between her legs, the residue of the sex she'd just had with Michael.
She wanted to throw up.
"Go right in," she managed to say through numb lips.
"Hmph." Michael's girlfriend was clearly unimpressed and she stalked into his office like she owned it. Laney was vaguely surprised she'd stopped at her desk at all.
The few minutes after the door to Michael's office closed were the longest of Laney's life. She was frozen with indecision, unsure what she should do. Barge in and confess their affair? No, she had no idea what their relationship entailed. For all she knew the two of them had an open relationship and that perfect woman was well aware Michael fucked his naïve temp at the office every day.
"Was that Vivian I saw?"
Laney's head snapped up, surprised. Price never spoke to her directly and she wasn't sure why he was doing so now.
"I-I'm not sure," she stuttered.
He sighed as if he expected that she'd be a stammering moron, as usual. "Michael's girlfriend?"
"Oh," Laney said, nodding slowly. "Yes, then, I guess. She didn't exactly introduce herself."
"Of course not," Price said dismissively, as if the idea of someone giving Laney their name before barging into her boss' office was a ridiculous notion.
"She's really lovely," Laney said, her tone a bit wistful. Vivian was exactly the sort of woman Laney had wanted to grow up to be.
"She's a ballerina," Price offered. "Professional. Danced with the Royal Ballet Company. I believe that's where she's been the past few months."
An actual ballerina. Of course that was Michael's type. Laney thought of how awkwardly she moved, even when she was trying
to be graceful. She was sure Vivian had never knocked over a box of straws in the break room. That likely meant Michael had never had the need to punish her, but that made sense, didn't it? That was why he enjoyed his diversion with Laney. Vivian had been out of the country, giving Michael the perfect opportunity to do things the oh-so-proper and perfect girlfriend would faint at the mere suggestion of. Laney certainly couldn't picture her on her knees, on the floor, while Michael thrust into her from behind, his hands just rough enough…
Oh, God. Laney felt aroused
and
nauseated. The idea that she'd been sleeping with someone who had a girlfriend was bad enough. Unintentionally or not, she was the other woman. What made her a terrible person was that the betrayal wasn't what made her feel so awful. The idea of never having Michael again, the realization that this was the end of them, because she couldn't continue as she had with him knowing he had committed to someone… no, Laney was going to have to keep their relationship strictly professional. No more closed door meetings in Michael's office. No more
punishment
.
"Are you listening, Ms. Hopkinson?"
"I'm sorry," Laney said, shaking her head. "Is there something else you needed, Mr. Price?"
"Yes, actually," Price said. "Michael asked that you join us for a meeting this evening. You're off at six, aren't you?"
"Yes," she confirmed."
"At six then," Price said. "My office. Try not to be late or destroy anything on your way in." He smiled tightly and walked away, leaving Laney feeling even worse than she had before he got there.
She was wracked with indecision. Should she sit here and wait for Vivian to emerge? What if they were having an incredibly loving reunion? Maybe she had missed him so much they were already wrapped around one another on the couch in the office. If Laney were his girlfriend, the idea of being away from him for months at a time would be unthinkable. She could barely keep her promise not to jump him for a day. All he had to do was look at her a certain way, speak to her with that visceral authority in his voice, and her resolve crumbled to dust.
Laney had just resolved that she would hide out in the break room until Vivian had left when Michael's door opened again and
the other woman exited. Michael stood just inside the door, giving his girlfriend a look Laney couldn't quite decipher.
"I'll see you tonight," he said, though it lacked both the warmth and the intensity Laney had come to expect from him. Perhaps he was trying to avoid rubbing the relationship in Laney's face. Perhaps they had just been together so long that things had cooled between them.
Vivian headed out, as though to leave, until Michael's door shut. She then made a slight detour until she was standing in front of Laney's desk, one perfect golden eyebrow (because it was asking too much that she be a bottle blonde, apparently) raised.
"You must be Laney," she said, her mouth curling into the tightest, most vindictive smile Laney had ever seen.
"Yes," Laney confirmed quietly.
"Michael tells me you're… quite useful," Vivian said, unnecessarily wiping the corner of her mouth with a well manicured index finger. The gesture was crude and unmistakable. Laney blushed and slouched in her chair, mortified.
"I'm just a temp," Laney muttered, having no idea how to respond to Vivian's horrifyingly correct assumption.
"Yes," Vivian agreed. "You're very temporary. And soon - very soon - Michael will have absolutely no use for you at all. You know that, don't you?"
Whatever that status of their sexual relationship, Laney was sure Michael wouldn't just fire her without cause, and though she had been mistake and accident prone in the beginning, since her nerves settled down she had performed her job more than satisfactorily. Vivian's implication ran a lot deeper than that, however, and Laney had no such surety about the status of their more personal connection. Not, Laney reflected wryly, that it had been all that personal. She didn't know what his favorite song was or where he’d grown up, just that he loved her coffee and enjoyed being in charge. Of everything. Control didn't seem to be something he got a lot of in his relationship with Vivian, if the domineering way she carried herself was any indication. Laney sat up a little straighter. Yes, she had been wrong to sleep with this woman's boyfriend, but she didn't know he was involved and she would not be doing it again, now that she did.
"I guess that's up to Michael to decide," Laney said, more bravely than she felt.
Vivian's nostrils flared in annoyance and she flounced away without another word. The reaction was equal parts satisfying and disturbing. Vivian didn't seem the type of woman to shy away from a confrontation which had Laney running scared the rest of the day, wondering what awaited her at tonight’s after hours meeting. Even Michael seemed to be keeping his distance, not even acknowledging Laney when she brought him his afternoon coffee and cookie.
All too soon it was six o'clock. Laney walked on shaky knees to Price's office door and knocked timidly, entering when a muffled 'come in' came from the other side.
Waters was sitting on the small sofa in the corner. Price was coming out of his bathroom. He and Waters both had private executive suites, since they'd started the firm. It had always bothered Laney a little that Michael didn't have one as well, especially considering he put in longer hours than his two partners combined, but if she'd said anything to him she was sure Michael would say he was content to work hard and earn his way to the top, just as he'd been doing all his life.
Laney felt a pang of agony at the realization that while she didn't know a lot of stupid details about Michael, she did feel as though she knew
him
. At least, the person she'd thought he was. That man wouldn't have cheated on his girlfriend. Had casual sex with his subordinate, yes; but they were two consenting adults. Laney was saddened to realize that all the things she'd thought she knew about Michael - that she'd been so sure of - were likely just her guilty conscience, attempting to make her feel better for entering into a strictly sexual relationship, something she'd never imagined herself doing.
"Ms. Hopkinson," Price said, taking a seat behind his desk. "Glad you could make it. Michael was hoping to be here himself, but you know how demanding those romantic reunions can be."
"Of course," Laney said, though she really had no idea. Like before, though, she could imagine. She wouldn't have been able to tear herself away from Michael's side today.
"So, this likely comes as no surprise to you, given your history here, but I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go," Price continued.
"It's just not a good fit," Waters added. "Michael's already notified the agency, of course. You aren't being given a bad mark or anything."
"No, no," Price interjected, "as we've said, it's just not a good fit here."
"I thought it was working out, actually," Laney said, her heart breaking at the thought of not seeing Michael at all. She knew her time here would be temporary, but she thought she'd have longer to say goodbye, to get used to not being near him.
"Oh. Oh," Price repeated, looking incredibly sorry for her. "You poor thing. I thought Michael would have said something to you…"
"He's not good at seeing a pretty girl cry," Waters said, laughing at his own bad joke. "Probably left it up to us to be the big bad guys, as usual."
Price sighed. "Well, if we're to be the bad guys - I'm very sorry about this, Ms. Hopkinson. Please gather the things from your desk. Your services are no longer required."
"Michael wants this," Laney said forcefully. "Michael told you to fire me?" She shook her head. "He wouldn't. He'd at least tell me himself. He'd--"