Page 37 of Obeying Mr Kingsley

“I have to get back to my friends, but call me,” Mr.Hottie Firefighter said.

I blinked a few times before realizing he was asking me to get out of the cab.

Wow.

I climbed out and plonked myself into the waiting wheelchair as he pulled the door closed, waving as he drove away.

“What the fuck?”Terri said, watching the vehicle depart.

“Yeah.Another dick.”I shook my head.“Let’s go.My wrist is killing me.”

So, yeah, one kiss.

I didn’t even kiss him back, and I bet he took someone else home that night and is still expecting me to call.

I’ve been in New York City for over a month and slept with the one man who called me—in as many words—a gold-digging whore.

A man who pays my salary and who I can’t tell to take a hike.A man who I like more than I should, and I don’t know what that says about me.

––––––––

AFTER LUNCH, WHICHI ate in the lunchroom, I race back to my apartment to get my pain medication.My wrist is aching.

I thought the meds were in my purse, but there they are, right there on the damn bench.

I slam the door behind me and trek back to the office.By the time I arrive, Mason’s meeting is taking place.

Good, I won’t have to see him for at least anoth—

When I round my desk, there sit the pastries and empty jugs.The trolley is still where I left it, waiting for Sarah to set it up and take into the meeting.

Oh, my fucking god!

A note sits on my keyboard.Sarah apologized; she had to go home with a tummy bug.

Shit, shit, shit.

I drop my purse and quickly unpack the pastries, putting them on plates.A race down the hall and fill up the coffee pot then curse my injury as I carry a heavy pot in each hand.

Loading up the trolley, I quickly head down the hall to the boardroom.

My wrist is throbbing.

Do not drop coffee on anyone.

I knock quietly, run a hand over my long dark hair and make sure the buttons on my blouse haven’t popped open and that my skirt is in place.

Then enter.

At least ten suited men sit around the large meeting room.They all glance up as I enter, and a cold, sickly feeling rushes through me.

Oh god.

No.

It can’t be.

I lock eyes with one of the men, and it’s not Mason.