Page 27 of Dirty Little Secrets
“ H e took you home?” Kristina’s eyes are wide with disbelief.
I nod and take a sip of coffee, wincing as the dull throb behind my eyes reminds me, I’m still recovering. Bash dropped me off Saturday morning, it’s Monday and the hangover hasn’t left.
“His home?” she clarifies like she still can’t process it.
I can’t either.
I told her about the restaurant but left out the part where he came out of the shower jerking off in front of me. Or how he rejected me.
I was right. He’d never go for a girl like me.
I was just available. A man with a dick doesn’t need much more. I’ve learned that lesson too many times: being the only woman in the room often makes you the default distraction.
I didn’t let him finish as soon as truth left his tongue. It was no different than why Brent and his friends did it. To get off. Because that’s all I’ve ever been good for.
“It wasn’t like that,” I say, my voice flat. “I was drunk.”
She waves her hand like she’s swatting the truth away. “Yeah, right. He wants you.”
I stifle a bitter laugh. “No. He doesn’t.”
I could explain, but what’s the point? Kristina would romanticize it. Think he was holding back because of professionalism or because I work for him. But that’s not it. Not even close.
His words flipped something inside me. If I didn’t work at Drazen Enterprises, if we met in some normal way, he wouldn’t have even looked at me, not the way I looked at him.
The way I begged him with my eyes to touch me.
He wouldn’t have seen me. He would’ve chosen someone discreet.
Safe. Someone who came without complications.
She wouldn’t need to show her face just a warm body.
He’s not looking for love. He’s looking for escape.
Unapologetic sex. Carnal. Raw.
I’ve been that escape before. I know the signs. The real question is, what is he trying to forget?
“How was your night?” I ask, changing the subject.
Kristina bites into her croissant. She chews slowly, like she’s buying herself time.
Something happened. But like me, she’s choosing silence.
“Bash took me home. That was it.” She shrugs and blows on her coffee. “Nothing exciting like your night.”
I check the time on my phone and push my chair back. “I gotta go. If I’m late, he might send security to come drag me in.”
“Ooooh… the possessive kind. I like it.”
I roll my eyes. “Not even close. He just insists I hand-deliver his schedule even though I email it to him. It’s like his fingers are broken.”
“Excuses, excuses,” she teases.
The sky outside is gray with an icy wind that nips at my skin as I walk. I tilt my head against the wind and regret it instantly. Pain shoots through the back of my eyes like a nail to the skull. My brain pounds in rhythm with each step.
The warmth inside the building makes my eyes water.
I slept through Sunday and woke to the sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand. My entire weekend gone in a blur. Alcohol has a way of stealing time, leaving nothing behind but regret.
The elevator doors open. Dread drags across my spine.
At least he doesn’t know we technically slept together. It’s like a one-night stand only one of us remembers.
I drop my bag into the drawer and fire up my computer. I avoid looking into his office, even though I can feel the pull—like he left the door open just to mess with me.
“Good morning, Ms. Summers.”
I grab the hard copy of his schedule like we’re living in the 90s and march into his office.
He’s fresh, perfectly put together in a crisp shirt and shaved jaw like he just returned from a meditation retreat.
Meanwhile, I’m in a $7 skirt from Rainbow and a clearance blouse from Marshalls.
My last loan interest payment hit my bank account so hard, I’ll be on a strict ramen-only budget for the next two weeks.
“Good morning, Mr. Drazen,” I reply professionally.
He wants to pretend that Friday night never happened. Fine. I’ve dealt with worse.
At least with Xaiden, I’m attracted to the devil. Brent is the monster I can’t escape.
I was careful not to give myself away when I took my top off the other night. He’s only seen flashes of me. My ass, my pussy, but never my full body. Not uncovered. And the other time? He was blindfolded. He doesn’t know Red is me. And that’s the only thing I have left. The power between us.
Maybe it’s time I went back to the club. To forget. Let another man erase the ghosts of Brent. Let another fuck push Xaiden out of my system.
It’s not like he’s there every night. I’ll go when I know he’s busy.
“Have a seat,” he says.
I sit, leaving enough distance between us to escape quickly if I need to.
I wince again. My head’s pounding like a war drum.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
“Just a headache,” I mutter.
“Do you need the day off?”
I blink. Surprised. “No, I can manage. It’s not my first.”
He nods and scans the hardcopy schedule while I fix my eyes on the desk. The less I look at him, the easier this becomes.
“Is there anything you need from me?” I ask.
“What do you plan on doing for lunch?”
“If it’s not something I need to pick up for you, the usual.”
Vending machine snacks. The occasional granola bar. Nothing over $5.
He pulls an envelope from his drawer, opens it, and slides it across the desk. A black metal credit card gleams in the light.
“For you.”
I pick it up slowly, pulling it off the paper, turning it over in my hand. It’s heavy. Expensive. The kind of card people in songs brag about.
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“I want you to use it. For lunch. For the days I ask you to handle reservations, dry cleaning, courier pickups, that kind of thing.”
That makes sense. Until it doesn’t.
“Okay… so I pay for your lunch now instead of Bash paying for it when he’s with me?”
“Yes. And yours.”
There it is.
Guilt, maybe. Compensation for what happened Friday night. For jerking off in front of me. For all the things we don’t say out loud.
“Okay,” I say.
I stand, planning on doing nothing personally with the card. “Is there anything else you need?”
He doesn’t answer. Just turns to his computer and begins typing at an inhuman speed.
By 2 PM, Bash brings his lunch I ordered and paid for using the fancy card. I assume Xaiden thinks I ordered from the same place. I didn’t. No way I’m spending $50 on a salad just because I’m holding his magic credit card.
I eat chips at my desk, sliding one into my mouth and shoving the bag out of sight when I hear him coming down the hall.
He stops in front of my desk. “Did you have lunch?”
My eyes stay glued to my screen. “Yes.”
He flicks the chip bag with his finger like it’s contaminated. “What did you eat?”
“Food.”
“What kind?”
“The edible kind.”
He picks up the bag. Crumples it in his hand.
“Hey! I was eating that!”
The can of ginger ale disappears too—straight into the trash. “That’s not food,” he states.
“Who made you the lunch police?”
His nostrils flare. “Fine. You want to play this game?”
He storms off, slamming his office door. What the hell is his problem?
A while later, I get an email from HR with a document on a DocuSign folder requesting signature for an addendum to my position.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Addendum to Employment Agreement
Attachments: Addendum_Contract_LunchBenefit.pdf
Dear Ms. Summers,
Please find attached an addendum to your current employment agreement at Drazen Enterprises.
Effective immediately:
· Drazen Enterprises will provide daily lunch for your scheduled workdays and dinner on any day your duties extend beyond 5:00 PM.
· All meals are to be charged exclusively to the company-issued card provided to you this morning.
· This policy is mandatory and not subject to employee reimbursement or negotiation.
· Failure to comply will result in formal review of adherence to company protocol.
Please sign the attached document at your earliest convenience to acknowledge receipt and understanding.
Respectfully,
Human Resources Department
Drazen Enterprises, Ltd.
“You have got to be kidding,” I mutter as I sign it because it’s not like I have a choice and the provided lunch and dinner would be a Godsend. I look at it as a perk of the job and nothing personal. When I’m done, my computer pings from an incoming email.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Your Meals
Good. You’ll eat what I want, how I want. I expect nothing less than obedience. Now be a good girl and nourish yourself.
— X
I glance at his closed door wanting to kick it open and tell him the truth. I’m a bad girl wanting nothing more than to be what he wants.