For the third time, I glanced over at Delilah, who sat so closely against the door that if someone had opened it, she’d have fallen right out. She was looking out the window, totally ignoring me.
What do you expect after keeping her back hours after closing time?
The truth was that even though I had spent most of the week with her, I couldn’t resist stealing just a bit more after everyone had left. I knew she was angry, and those eyes of hers looked like storm clouds during our 'discussions.' I knew that I had given her hell that week, but something about seeing her fired me up and turned me on.
Delilah didn’t even say anything when I turned onto the street that led to her neighborhood. I didn’t have to ask where she lived because I had followed her home each night to ensure she got home safely.
I focused on my surroundings and looked in the rearview mirror; Tony was right behind me. I detested the area. Paint was peeling off the buildings, and some of them even had cracks running along the walls. It looked like a neighborhood where crack addicts were rampant and shootings occurred every night. I pulled up in front of Delilah’s apartment building.
The streetlight at the front was broken, and a couple was arguing loudly in the building about who was supposed to do the dishes. The building looked like it was on the verge of being condemned. Two guys and a lady stumbled into the apartment building, laughing loudly, talking about what would happen once they got behind closed doors.
Delilah unbuckled her seatbelt and clutched her handbag tightly but didn’t look in my direction when she spoke.
“Thank you for the ride. Mr. Quantum.”
She stepped out of the car, and I was on her heels. I saw from the corner of my eye that Tony had also gotten out. I grabbed Delilah’s arm more roughly than I'd meant to and brought her to a stop. She stumbled and I pulled her against me just in time, her breasts pressed to my chest. Her breathing increased for a fraction of a second before she pulled away from me and steadied herself.
“Delilah, why are you living here?”
Before, I couldn’t ask her these questions, because she’d wonder how I knew where she lived. But now that I'd dropped her home, I needed answers. “Dean could pay for a luxurious apartment anywhere,” I added, my brow lifted.
I knew how protective Dean was of Delilah, especially after their parents died. He’d never let Delilah live in a dump like this.
“Wait, does he know you’re living here?”
She glared at me, and something stirred within me.
“Where I live is none of your business, nor is it Dean’s. You insisted on dropping me home and you did. Leave.”
There was no way I was going to leave without getting the answers I wanted, not when I had the opportunity to do so. I followed her up the stairs to her apartment. The concrete stairs were chipped, and a part of the railing was missing.
A horrible stench filled my nostrils, but either Delilah didn’t smell it, or she was accustomed to it, and the fact that she could be bothered me.
“Delilah, living in a place like this is not safe, especially for a woman. Places like these have way too many petty crimes and violence against women.”
My fists clenched at my side at the thought of someone placing their hands on her. We stopped at her door, and she pulled out her key and looked at me.
“Mr. Quantum, what I do after hours, and again, where I live, is none of your business,” she huffed.
“You are my business.”
She lifted her eyebrow and I continued, “Not only are you my employee, but my best friend’s sister, and that extends outside of work hours.”
Delilah laughed bitterly, “When was the last time you even spoke to Dean? And when have you ever looked out for me? Because I don’t have any memories of that happening, so don’t try to start now. I can take care of myself.”
“Delilah.” I placed my hand on her arm but she yanked away.
Without thinking, I pushed her against the wall, my two hands flat against the door behind her. She gazed up at me, her eyes wide.
“You are not my boss right now. All you are is an annoying, controlling co-worker who can’t take a hint when to get lost.” She tried to sound intimidating, but her words came out like a whimper instead.
As I looked down at her, I noticed her breaths came in short gasps and her chest bobbed up and down. Her nipples pressed firmly against the soft material of her blouse.
I wanted to tell her that no matter where we were, I was her boss. I wanted to show her exactly how much I could control her, if I chose, as thoughts of seducing her right here, right now, infiltrated my mind. I’d fuck her brains out in the shadows outside her apartment. and there was nothing she would be able to do about it.
But, reluctantly, I took a step back.
Never had I had the desire to just fuck a woman anywhere. Discretion was important to me. Yet still, here I was having these intense thoughts about Delilah outside her apartment.
“Good night, Ms. Malone,” I bit out.
Delilah unlocked her apartment door and entered without a word. I didn’t hear anything on the other side for a while. After a few moments, I heard Delilah walk away from the door, and I made my way down the stairs. Tony was standing at the bottom of the staircase, waiting. I exited the building, and he followed.
Outside, two security officers were waiting, one by my car and the other by their SUV. I hopped into my car and sped away, the only thing on my mind contacting Dean.
***
It had been two damn hours since I’d reached home and had been trying to reach Dean. Every number I had for him, his cellphone and his car dealership lines, didn't work. Since he’d moved his business to another state, we hadn’t been able to keep in touch like we used to. But the fact that none of his lines worked meant something was wrong. Very wrong.
.
Frustrated, I tossed my phone on the sofa, slumped back and closed my eyes. Now, I didn’t just have Delilah to be worried about, but Dean was now added to the list.
I wondered if Delilah knew where Dean was. But if she did, would she tell me? Her question about when I last spoke to Dean hinted that she knew we hadn’t spoken in the last year or so. And if she didn’t know exactly where he was, was she in contact with him?
Then a thought crossed my mind. Did Dean ghost me? If he did, what reason did he have?
I dialed Vega’s number, gave him Dean’s information and told him I wanted an update in the next few days.
With Dean out of the picture, Delilah was mine to take care of, and that was exactly what I planned to do.
That weekend, I paid the mechanic a hefty sum to look at Delilah’s car, making sure every issue was addressed. By Sunday evening, the car was fixed and Rex, one of the security officers, delivered it to her. I vowed that once Delilah accepted the permanent position I offered, I’d include a company car and a luxury apartment close to the office. I wasn’t sure if she’d take it, but at least she’d have the option.
When I walked into the office on Monday at seven a.m. Delilah was already in her office. I popped in to let her know I expected her in my office at eight sharp to finalize our notes from Friday.
Over the next few weeks, I had two security officers parked outside her apartment building once she was home. And I didn’t only follow Delilah home, I followed her once she left the office.
The only place she went besides work was the supermarket, staying cooped up in her shabby apartment. Did she not have any friends? Maybe she spoke to them over FaceTime or Zoom.
And I still had no idea where the hell Dean was. Vega told me the last time Dean’s phone was in service was six months ago, right after his business folded. But after that, he just seemed to disappear. No credit cards to trail, no debit card purchases. The last image Vega picked up of him was him getting into a cab on Main, and then nothing.
I wasn’t sure if it was my worry about not being able to locate Dean or why Delilah was forced to stay in that crappy apartment, but I couldn’t get her off my mind.
When I wasn’t stalking her at the supermarket learning her favorite foods, I was scrolling through her media page to find out what she was allergic to, and the reason she loved that peach-scented lotion, which, turns out, was her mother’s favorite scent, and places on her bucket list that she’d love to visit.
Thinking about her affected my work at the office. Every time she glared at me during a disagreement over planning the grand opening or shot a sarcastic comment my way with a complementary eye roll, I wanted to silence her with a kiss, caress her curves and make her eyes roll for all the right reasons.
Delilah affected me differently than any other woman I’d met. A whiff of her lotion or the sound of her giggles turned on an insatiable desire. I prided myself on having self-control, especially in the bedroom. I knew every touch, every trick to make women lose themselves.
But Delilah had become an aphrodisiac, constantly tugging the strings of my libido, unravelling my self-control. And, if I wasn’t careful and didn’t keep myself in check, those very strings would be the end of me.
I’d be damned if Delilah Malone would be the first woman to make me lose myself.