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One
MELODY
M y grandmother would have a fit if she were alive. To see me dressed like this. Like I’m some cheap flapper from the 20s, all I can think about is the run in my stockings. Jake’s eyes narrow on my legs. I’m sure he’s noticed. He sees everything.
In a curtsey position, I tuck the shin of one leg behind the calf of the other and smile while leaning forward to give him a view of more breast. Yes, I’ll use those, so he doesn’t focus on my slovenly appearance today.
“Late night?” His smirk sets my teeth on edge. Not because of the implications, but because of how stunning he is. And he knows it all too well.
“If you must know, yes. I was working on the Ballard files and discovered something new we could use if it goes to trial.” My brown locks fall over my shoulders, and I try to toss them back without looking like I’m desperate.
He spins in his white leather chair and faces the corner windows overlooking the resort. The snow is melting along the bottom of the mountain, already a warmer beginning to March than we’ve ever had. The sun is even peeking out at seven in the morning. “It won’t go to trial. The judge wouldn’t let that happen and you won’t either. Settle if you have to, but do the expensive job I pay you for.”
My neck muscles tighten. “I think, sir , if we hadn’t sued the paper for implying your sexual orientation is anything other than straight, then it wouldn’t have been a bigger deal than it needed to be.”
Flipping back to me, he laughs. A genuine, full, charming, seductive, and irritating laugh. “I thought lawyers liked to sue. Besides, it wasn’t rumors about my sexual orientation, and you know that. I make a living off my availability, and they implied?—”
“That you’re off the market, I get it. That could hurt your bottom line. But maybe it’s time to, perhaps, marry and settle down. With, um, whomever you choose.” Have I been waiting all these years for Jake to ask me ? Maybe. I mean, I do everything a wife would do. Make sure he has his breakfast and takes his vitamins. That he doesn’t stress too much. Rub his shoulders when he needs it. Attend functions with him when he needs a plus one for an invitation.
The fact that I do this while also being his counsel is demeaning. But he’s right. He pays me quite well. Not as much as he makes, but I earn a lot of money.
With no time to spend it.
“Anyway, back to the drawing board with you. Make sure you get my dry cleaning scheduled. And, oh. I need something…hmm… Italian for lunch, I think.”
Preventing my eye roll, I turn around to face the hall. It comes out as a murmur because I don’t want to hear his snappy comeback. “I think Dustin would be better at handling that. You remember him. Your assistant ?”
Stopping by Dustin’s desk, I tap on the top with a manicured nail to gain his attention. He’s putting away his items casually. Because he can. Because he’s so useless. Jake only keeps him around because he’s someone’s son.
“Order him vegetable lasagna from Garbazzo’s for lunch and get his dry cleaning done.”
Dustin clicks away mindlessly with his mouse. “But he hates vegetable lasagna.”
I’m already at the door when I pause and throw the words over my shoulder, “I know.”
Jake is annoyingly correct. By mid-afternoon, I’ve already gotten the client to agree to settle after talking with opposing counsel. They’ll retract their story and issue a correction. No one wants to upset the man that runs this town. The mayor is just that in name only. Jake Connor is the one holding the purse strings.
Rubbing my temples to prevent a headache that’s threatening to settle in, I lean against the break room counter when Mateo strolls through to grab his lunch from the fridge. “Already one of those days, huh? Here. I’m sure you forgot to pack something, so I made two.”
He tosses me a sandwich from his bag, and I tilt my head at the warmness of the action. I think I could cry from his kindness. “You’re always rescuing me.”
A little chuckle parts his lips as he sits down at the table and kicks a chair out for me to join him. “I know. It’s worth it. Anyone who’s as annoyed with Jake Connor as me holds a special place in my heart.”
Taking a bite of the salami and pickles, I moan with pleasure. Mateo knows exactly what I like. “What did he make you do now?” I ask.
“Change the new building design.” His black locks dance as he shakes his head. “For the fourth time this week. I can only draw up so many plans before I get hand cramps.”
Tossing my head back with a laugh, the day’s frustrations lessen listening to his rants about Jake. “This was so good. Thank you.” I’m not just talking about the food, but that hit the right spot.
“You’re welcome. Are you ever going to get some groceries at your place? Last time I was there, it was just pickles and mayo in the fridge. And a sad old taco seasoning packet in the pantry.”
Brushing some crumbs off my pencil skirt, I stand and grab some water from the dispenser. “Ugh, if I had time, I’d stock it full. Or just hire a cook.”
“But I thought you liked to cook. Some places offer grocery delivery. All you have to do is order it, then put it away.”
With a heavy sigh, I dream of such a thing. Maybe I can take a moment now to peruse a list from an app. “I think you just miss my chicken and dumplings.”
“They’re so good, Mel. So good. Yeah, you caught me.”
He bats away the balled-up napkin I throw at him. “I have to get back to the emails, but I’ll make you some soon. I promise.”
As I walk past him, his finger snags my hand for a moment as he pulls out his phone, wiggling it in the air for me. “Don’t be a stranger. Take some time off. Maybe join me at a restaurant this weekend or something.”
My back stiffens. His friendship is getting a bit too familiar . “Okay, Mateo. See you.”
On paper, he’s probably the man I should pursue. He’s handsome, a professional architect, and kind. He even knows what my favorite dish is. He’d treat me so well.
But he’s just my friend.
In all honesty, I’m so stupid that I fantasize about Jake’s tongue in my pussy when I masturbate. My rude, arrogant prick of a boss. The one who has multiple women on the side that I have to hear about through the break room gossip every day. Sure, I’ve never seen him with any of these supposed snow bunnies, but they do flock to him like ditzy moths to a flame.
It’s dark when I get in my car and head home. Too late to go grocery shopping. Or really, I’m too exhausted. And there’s still work left to do from my bed on my laptop. Hopefully, I have something frozen I could microwave.
My oversized penthouse is in the same building as Jake’s. But he also has a chateau on the mountainside. And a cabin in the woods. Oh, and there’s the island getaway cottage that’s more of an eight-bedroom mansion.
Whereas Jake’s is professionally decorated, my apartment is bare and lonely. The doorman nods as I pass the front desk, then head to the private elevator. When I approach, however, there’s a man with an open laptop squatting in front of the keypad. Wires connect it to his computer as he types away hurriedly, then slams the top closed.
My stomach flips as he pulls his black hoodie over his head and stands, then departs down the hall, ignoring my presence.
“Hey! Who are you?” I yell after him.
The man half turns his head, but I can’t make out his appearance. My heels won’t let me keep up.
Roy, the guard, stops me by calling out, “Miss Locke, that was just our new cybersecurity man. Jake hired him to redo the security in the building and I think he was updating the codes for the locks. It should work fine now.”
“Oh.” Despite the reassurance, my heart beats hard in my chest from the strange encounter. “He’s not very sociable.”
Roy shrugs and continues crunching on his apple while I tap my code and step inside the elevator. When I reach my door on the top floor, I pause before pressing in the numbers. Was the man also here? Why am I being so paranoid?
Shaking my head to get rid of the thoughts, I step inside. Nothing’s amiss, but I wouldn’t expect it to be. White walls, lots of glass, and stark furniture. We’ll say I’m a minimalist. That seems trendy and like I’ve set up my place like this intentionally.
My shoes go flying as I kick them toward the sunken living room while I rip my button-up shirt off and undo the front clasp of my bra. Relief at letting the girls breathe makes my shoulders ease their tension. As I wander toward the kitchen, I unzip my skirt and let it fall off while I wrestle the rest of my pantyhose off, then toss them in the trash.
Gripping the fridge door, I gasp and stiffen with shock. I throw open the freezer. With a bang, I slam it shut, then try the pantry, the cabinets…
Someone filled my kitchen with food. Not just any food, but every food I crave.
The package of my favorite chocolates from the little chocolatier’s shop downtown crinkle when I run my fingers over it. Even the desperate fruit bowl on the island overflows with my brand of organic Granny Smith apples. Are they poisoned?
I slide a butcher knife from the block and hold it in front of me as I wander down the hall and check out the other rooms of my apartment, throwing on lights and scavenging corners. Fortunately, there’s not much for an intruder to hide behind.
No one is here. I wander back into the kitchen while tugging my bathrobe around my waist. The food all seems freshly packaged and untampered with… Maybe it will be okay to eat it.
Getting to work, I pull out everything for chicken and dumplings with a smile on my face. What if this is Mateo’s way of saying he wants me to make him some? Did he have groceries delivered?
He must have. Roy knows him, so he probably let him up to bring them inside.
I’m relaxed and happy with a second glass of wine by the time I finish the dish, scooping up a big batch to take in to work tomorrow. As I take a heaping spoonful of the hearty chicken, I text Mateo to thank him.
Me
You’re amazing. Just what I needed!
Mateo
No, you’re amazing! And you’re welcome!
I set my phone down completely at ease, take a sip of my red, and sit back in my chair with a belly full of my grandmother’s recipe. My phone buzzes with another text from Mateo.
Mateo
What was it I was supposed to have done?
Rolling my eyes, I smirk. He’s playing around.
Me
I took the hint and made you dumplings with your groceries.
Mateo
?
Me
The groceries that you had delivered here.
He leaves the text on read and I shrug. What a humble guy!
After cleaning up, it’s too late to read, so I hurriedly shower, then slip into bed. My mind is still awake with a longing between my legs that urges me to pull out my clit sucker and relieve myself before I can sleep.
My go to fantasy these days is imagining Jake on his knees behind his desk while I hike a leg over his shoulder. He’s dominating and forceful, but commanding as well. As I slip into the motion, some of my thoughts change as I imagine the hooded man from earlier breaking into my apartment. Perhaps he’s watching me now from a corner of my dark room.
Thinking about it, I kick off the sheet and writhe against the toy while moaning. My eyes squeeze shut as I picture him wearing some type of mask. I never got to see his face, so in my fantasy, there is only a black hole under his hoodie. What if he was here and did obscene things to me? Forced himself on me and just took what he wanted, then left his cum deep inside me.
If I let myself really feel it, it seems like he’s with me now. Standing at the foot of my bed and jerking himself rapidly while watching. Gaping at me like a spectacle laid out for the pleasure of his eyes.
“Oh, yes!” I scream as an orgasm surges through my body.
As I collapse back on the bed with exhaustion from the day and the pleasure I just gave myself, it almost feels like less of a fantasy… Like there is a presence watching over me in the blackness that surrounds me. Tossing the blanket over my head, I fall deeply asleep.
It’s a restful night, one I haven’t had in a long time. It’s partially the knowledge that I’m a grownup with a fridge full of food that I can cook any time I choose. I feel accomplished.
First thing in the morning, I reach for my phone. Mateo’s last text lingers from our earlier conversation.
Mateo
Mel, I didn’t get you groceries.
My heart rate accelerates. Is he lying? Why would he lie? Who did it?
“Oh my god!” A feral yell comes from my chest when I spy a card leaning against my bedside lamp. A few words scrawled in ink line the front of a white envelope in an ominous handwriting:
Let’s play a game, shall we?