Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (53 page)

“What?”

“Well, you’re the one who hiked up her skirt. I’m just observant, that’s all.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t for your benefit. Now, I’ll forget this, but please stop…observing me.”

“I’ll try, but it’s difficult.”

“Anything else you want to know about besides the status of my undergarments?”

“I hate to veer from such an interesting topic.”

I shot him a cutting glance, and he smiled, somewhat apologetically.

“Okay, sorry. So what is your position?”

I sighed, both relieved and anxious about the change of topic. “Well, I’m kind of displaced right now.”

“Displaced? How so?”

“I am—or rather I was—the assistant to Ronald Bellman, but he left. He was the head of marketing. They haven’t replaced him yet, so I’ve been helping out other departments.” It was all busywork, so I knew my days were numbered, even if the company succeeded through the wisdom of this arrogant dick sitting next to me.

“Why did he leave?”

“He got fired for making a comment about my garter belt,” I snapped, relishing the opportunity to smirk back at Rick.

My comment didn’t faze him, but only managed to amuse him more. “I’ll try to remember that, Marley.”

I hated the way he said my name, slower than the other words within the sentence…stretching out the syllables in that sexy voice of his. Actually, I loved it, which was why I hated it. It evoked a visible shiver, which I was sure he noticed. I decided it was best to stay focused on work topics only. “He went to work for that company with all the American Flags in their ads and no American clothes in their stores.”

“Oh, I see. Well, that must be difficult for you.” He ran his hands through his hair. It’s funny how it all fell back in the same perfect pattern, like I’d instinctively known it would. I wondered if it did that when he got up in the morning. I sat up straighter, realising I was being precarious. I never crushed on guys like this. In fact, I made it a rule not to.

I didn’t have to respond to him because my phone started ringing again. The caller ID flashed that it was my mom…again.

“Are you going to answer it this time?” His question sounded more like a command, and I didn’t appreciate it.

“No!” I didn’t mean to shout, but I did.

“I really think you should, Marley. It’s the second time she’s called.”

“Do you answer the phone every time your mother calls, Rick?”

His expression shifted immediately and his voice became sombre. “I wish I could. My parents passed away ten years ago.”

Open mouth—insert one finely crafted Louboutin.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, but it might be important. You should answer it.”

Well, what else was there to do but answer it? I pushed the accept call button on my phone. “Hi, Mom,” I answered, trying to sound chipper, hoping to God she would not embarrass me.

“Hi, honey, did you make it to the airport?”

“Yeah, I’m headed back to the office now.”

“So, do you have the cheapskate with you?”
Oh Crap!

“Mom, you’re on speaker phone!”

“You should tell a person these things. Sorry, Mr Cheapskate.”
Oh no, she didn’t just say that…did she?
Every part of my body cringed simultaneously. Rick laughed though and it was an honest laugh, not uncomfortable or tense.

“No problem, Marley’s mom.”

“Mom, is there something you needed?”

“Oh, I just wanted to remind you about the fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Stevie wanted to make sure you weren’t late.”

“I know. I’ll be there.” I couldn’t believe she’d called for this, as if Stevie hadn’t already told me ten times.

“Sorry, honey, you know how your sister is, especially when it comes to this wedding. Speaking of, do you have a date yet?”

“Mom, it’s like four months away!”

“Actually, it’s only three and a half. Don’t leave it for the last minute, Marley. Even Billie has a date already. Do you want me to have Adam set you up with one of his friends?”

“No! Look, Mom, I can’t discuss this with you right now. I have to go, okay?”

“Okay, honey, it was just a suggestion. I’ll see you tonight, and you’re in for a treat.”

“Why is that?” I regretted it as soon as I asked the question.

“Because it’s vegan meatballs tonight,” she replied happily. “Oh, and I found a recipe for vegan mousse too!”

I had no idea how one would go about making vegan meatballs…it sounded like a contradiction in terms.

“Okay, got to go. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.” Despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t hang up without telling my mom I loved her. She was the most special person in the world or at least to me.

Rick grinned, rather foolishly, at me. I tugged absently at my borrowed pink shell top realising it probably resembled the same colour as my flushed face.

“Are you a vegan?” His question surprised me, but put me at ease too.

“No, just my mom is. I like meat.”
What the hell am I doing? Did I just tell this very hot guy next to me that I like meat?
Rick further cemented my mortification by chuckling, but thankfully, he moved on.

“Your sister’s getting married?”

“Yes,” I answered gratefully. He was taking the high road and ignoring the whole cheapskate debacle.

“Her name’s Stevie?”

“Yes,” I wondered if I should share how crazy my family was. He seemed curious. “It’s for Stevie Nicks.”

He smiled, nodding. “It’s Monday morning and you sure look fine.”

Huh? Is he flirting again?
I cocked my head at him, trying to give him my intimidating gaze, which didn’t even falter his smile.

“Fleetwood Mac, right?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” I replied, feigning nonchalance, realising he was quoting song lyrics. I thought it was ironic, since it was Monday morning and besides being a blundering mess, I felt I did look…fine.

“So, did your mom name your sister Stevie because she’s in love with Fleetwood Mac?”

I smiled because it was corny, but I loved the way my mom named us, although not everyone thought it was so cute. I might as well tell him
—
I’d most likely be out on my ass by the end of the week anyway and never see him again.

“My mom loves all types of music. She’s been to every kind of concert there is. It’s a part of our lives. I know people say that music is important to them all the time, but in my family, it’s more than entertainment. It’s a form of communication.” My mom often would play a song on the living room stereo to emphasise her advice or feelings—we all did. Sometimes, we couldn’t find the right words ourselves, so we used other people’s sentiments to fill the void, and why not? They were poets after all.

“She sounds like a character. Who’s Billie, your brother?”

I laughed because my eighteen-year-old sister Billie was the epitome of femininity with long blonde locks and bright blue eyes. “No, she’s my younger sister.”

“Let me guess, Billy Joel?”

“That’s what everyone thinks, but she’s actually named after Billie Joe.”

Rick looked at me quizzically.

“Billy Joe Armstrong, the lead singer of Green Day.
Dookie
came out the year Billie was born and my mom decided she was in love with him.”

“Ah, must be the guy liner thing.” It impressed me that Rick knew the band and could follow along with my mom’s crazy logic for naming us.

“Yeah, guess so.”

“And your name is Marley? So that’s for…”

“I’ll give you a hint. If I was a boy it would be Robert, Bob for short.”

“Bob Marley…very nice. Your mom’s very…eclectic in her tastes.” I couldn’t believe I’d divulged how crazy my family was in a few sentences. He most likely thought I smoked weed—I didn’t, but I decided not to voice it. It would probably make me sound worse. I mean that’s what someone who smoked weed would say, wasn’t it? Just great…I’d managed to reveal that I didn’t know the meaning of simple words like randy, I got lost, I talked to my mom all day long and I smoked weed, even though I didn’t. I should just fire myself at this point.

“She’s definitely one of a kind.”

It was funny, I never told people about my name. At least Rick didn’t seem judgemental.

“Do you want to know anything else about the company?”

“Why does your mom think I’m a cheapskate?”

Oh boy, he wasn’t taking the high road. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, cringing noticeably.

“Did you think I was just going to let it go?”

“I was hoping you would.”

He patiently assessed me with his eyes, not yielding to my silent plea. He wanted an answer.

“It was an assumption on my part because you didn’t get a rental car. I’m sorry. It was wrong.” I hoped the apology sounded sincere, because I did feel terrible about calling him that, although my new nickname of ‘Dick’ was even worse.

Rick was quiet for a moment, contemplating my excuse. “It’s a fair assumption,” he replied.

“There are no fair assumptions. I hope I didn’t offend you.”

“There are fair assumptions. We all make them, but please allow me to disillusion you of it.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to explain,” I replied sheepishly.

“I want to. There are two reasons I needed a ride. First, this was supposed to be a business meeting. Kathy Carver was going to fill me in on the company, but I think you’re an excellent substitute. I’ve very much enjoyed the conversation.”

Seriously—he was enjoying this? I was a hot, squirming, embarrassed, irritated mess, and he was enjoying talking to me? Although I had to admit, I was taking pleasure in looking at him and smelling him.

“Secondly, I live in New York and it’s prohibitive to have a car there.”

Oh great, he’s going to tell me he can’t drive, and I’m going to be stuck as his chauffeur. Well, at least I’ll have a job.

Rick smiled at me, continuing his explanation, “I love to drive, but I didn’t want to be limited with what they had at the airport. I’ve arranged to have a car delivered to the office for my use while I’m here. I’ll be working with you for the next four months, so I wanted to get something I’d like.”

We pulled up to the tall building where Henley Inc rented a large suite on the top floor. The conversation had gone by very fast, and I probably should have pointed out some of the Chicago sights on the way instead of jabbering his ear off about my crazy family.

“There’s my rental car.” Rick gestured to a black BMW. My jaw dropped. He was definitely not cheap.

“I guess I stand corrected.”

“Thanks for the ride, Marley. I hope I can return the favour.” He grinned mischievously, causing his green eyes to appear darker. A sudden heat rushed to my face. It was most likely a nonchalant, friendly comment, but in that moment, it sounded completely…
sexual
. It made me dislike him intensely. He’d been inappropriate to me, and somehow I’d divulged a ton of personal stuff he’d probably spread all around our gossipy office.

I pressed the button to open the trunk and remained seated inside the car. I expected him to retrieve his luggage while I regained my composure. He surprised me by coming around to my side and opening my door. He held his hand out to me. I took it hesitantly, but he tightened his grip and pulled me up gently. It made the heat on my face increase exponentially. Yep, he was a gentleman, but a dick too.

I stared at his ass as he walked away, checking to see if he had a wet spot as a result of my spilt coffee. Thankfully, he did not. However, I continued staring at him—oh my God, I was
leering
at his fine ass.

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About the Author

Corrine A Silver has been writing stories and poems as long as she can remember. In college, she turned her fantasy life into a degree in Creative Writing, but took a detour into health care for ten years before getting up the nerve to try to publish anything again.  She writes stories of BDSM erotic fiction, exploring themes of enthusiastic consent, power exchange and Domination/submission. Whenever her curiosity is piqued by a new kink, she writes a story about it. 

She lives in the Midwest with her husband, two kids and zero pets. She continues to (attempt to) balance family, working at her day job and writing. She remembers what not being busy felt like, but is grateful for all the things that fill up her days. 

Email:
[email protected]

Corrine loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
.