Page 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Muffled voices echoed in the background. I was sure that my CFO was saying something fairly important about the company’s finances, but I couldn’t get my brain to focus on his words. All I could think about was Saturday night.

My fingers tightened around the arms of my chair as I sat at the head of the conference table, but I still wasn’t able to pay attention to the meeting. The memory of myself on my knees in front of Cameron as he pushed his cock past my lips played on a loop in my mind over and over. When he took me home that night, I thought that he was going to come inside and take things further. Instead, he walked me to my door, kissed my forehead again, and left.

I spent all of Sunday in a confused daze, unsure if I made the whole thing up in my head or not. Part of me wished he’d stayed the night. I still wanted him. I still wanted more .

Maybe I needed to fire him, before things got messy. But deep down, I knew that I wouldn’t.

I shifted a little in my seat, the air heating and growing heavier around me. I kept being brought back to that room when I felt his hands on my body, his lips on mine.

“Alison?”

I snapped out of my thoughts and straightened up in my seat. “Yes?”

Wyatt, my CFO, cleared his throat and glanced around at the others. “Did you have any thoughts to share about us going into this next quarter?”

Oh, damn it. I hadn’t listened to a word they’d said. I released the arms of my chair and flexed my fingers, my mind working to come up with something on the spot. “Let’s see… we did really well this past quarter, so we need to keep up the momentum for this next one.”

Everyone around the table nodded, but I could tell they were expecting a different answer. Typically, I was prepared to give a motivating speech that encouraged everyone to give every day their all because hard work always paid off in the end, but I wasn’t in the game today.

Wyatt nodded and clasped his hands together. “Why don’t we call it early, folks?”

I frowned a little, unable to help but feel disappointed in myself. I needed to be present and not distracted. How could I expect the best from my employees when I wasn’t giving my work a hundred percent effort too ?

“Sure. We’ll pick up again next week,” I said as everyone nodded and grabbed their things.

It was too late to make up for my lack of participation and attention. Everyone filtered out of the conference room, and I was at the back of the line, mentally shaking my head at myself. This was why I couldn’t get involved with Cameron, or any other man. I couldn’t have personal matters distracting me from the most important thing in my life: my company.

“Want me to have the meeting notes sent to you?” Wyatt asked as he lingered by the doorway.

Embarrassment shot through me, but I kept my composure. “Yes, I’ll review everything later today.”

Wyatt nodded. He paused for a second like he wanted to say something else or ask me something, but changed his mind and left the room.

Everything was fine. I was just having one off day, but I’d be back on the ball tomorrow.

I headed toward my office, passing by one of the break rooms. That’s when I heard a familiar voice, and my stomach flipped. Inside, Cameron was standing by the coffee machine, making one of our graphic designers laugh. Our eyes immediately locked, and my cheeks went hot.

I hadn’t seen Cameron all morning, since I’d been in a meeting. This was the first time I’d seen him since Saturday night .

Since we’d kissed.

Since I’d gotten on my knees for him.

Cameron didn’t smile at me, the way he usually did at work. Instead, he gave me a long, knowing look. It reminded me of the way he’d looked down at me on Saturday. Not quite smug, but sure of himself. Above me. In control. Like he was my boss.

Not for the first time, I replayed what had happened that night. Why hadn’t he stayed the night with me? Was it because he suddenly realized what a terrible idea it was? If so, why had it only occurred to him then, and not an hour before when he had his hand between my legs?

Or maybe…

Maybe I hadn’t done a good enough job. I’d never had a reason to doubt my… skills, but it had been years. I could be out of practice. Embarrassment flushed through me at the thought.

But no. He’d praised me. You’re so good. You’re so fucking good. And afterwards, he kissed me on the forehead. “You did such a good job,” he’d said.

I shook the memory of his voice from my head, and marched onwards. When I arrived at my office, I closed the door behind me a bit too hard, making one of the interns jump. Then, I closed all the blinds, so none of my employees would be able to see me through the glass walls. I wanted to hide away from the rest of the world — Cameron, especially .

What I needed to do was work. First, I read over Wyatt’s meeting notes, which he had emailed to me. Afterwards, I finalised a few contracts and electronically signed documents. Despite the familiarity of work, my shoulders remained tense, my jaw tight.

When I heard a knock on my door, my eyes snapped up as Cameron stepped inside, my body stiffening up. Obviously, I knew that I was going to have to come face to face with him at some point given his position, but I wasn’t ready yet.

He set a cup of coffee in front of me before taking a step back from my desk, his expression blank. “The graphic design team will be sending you some mock-ups for Opportune Media’s campaign to approve, and Matt Brandon from Paradise City Realty wants to arrange a meeting with you next week to start a new campaign.”

All I could do was stare at him because he sounded completely normal. When he lifted an eyebrow at me, I rebooted my brain and nodded, setting myself back into business mode. We would pretend Saturday never happened. Good. That was what I wanted too.

Because Saturday was a mistake, and it could never happen again.

“I’ll review the mock-ups. Set up a meeting with Mr. Brandon on whatever day you think works best,” I told him.

“Done and done,” he said. “What would you like for lunch? Cobb salad from Green Market or grilled chicken sandwich from Dally’s?”

“I’ll skip lunch, I’ve got too much work to do. I’ll help myself to the snacks in the break room if I get hungry.”

He frowned. “You can’t skip lunch, Alison. You need the energy to get through the rest of the day.”

“Cameron, I’ll be fine.”

“Coffee and a granola bar aren’t going to be enough. Don’t you want to perform your best?”

Why did he have to know me well enough to pitch my own motivations against me? “Fine,” I gritted out. “A grilled chicken sandwich. But I’m eating at my desk.”

“I’ll pick it up for you,” he said, with a victorious smile.

I huffed and turned my attention back to my computer screen. In my periphery, Cameron remained standing.

“Was there anything else?” I asked.

He took a moment to reply, and my eyes briefly swept over his body, remembering how firm and strong he felt under my hands.

“You look stressed,” he said finally.

“Thank you. That’s exactly what a lady wants to hear.”

“No, I—” he cut himself off, shaking his head. For a second he looked…almost uncertain. “You seem more stressed than usual. Rochelle asked me if you were mad at her.”

“Who the fuck is Rochelle?”

“An intern,” Cameron explained. “She said you slammed the door, and I think she’s afraid she did something to upset you. She wondered if she was about to be fired.”

Right, Rochelle Fitzgerald, the college student majoring in advertising. Today wasn’t my day, because I usually remembered the names of all my interns.

“I didn’t slam the door, it was just an accident. I’m not going to fire Rochelle. Where would she even get that idea?”

He shrugged. “All the interns are a little bit afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me?” I repeated, incredulously. Yes, I could tell they were nervous during interviews, but I always tried to be as friendly as possible to everyone.

Well, except for that day last week when I’d lost my temper a bit.

“You’re their boss,” Cameron said. “They look up to you. They don’t want to disappoint you.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

A corner of his mouth quirked up. “No.”

That didn’t surprise me. While other workers would sugar coat things, Cameron was always brutally honest with me.

“Do you look up to me?” I asked, half-joking.

“Of course, I do,” he replied.

I stared.

He gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Why do you look so surprised? You’re successful, smart, and hardworking. Of course I admire you.”

My cheeks warmed. I was used to praise from coworkers and clients, but from Cameron it felt different. Maybe it’s because he was always so relaxed and laid-back around me.

“Thank you,” I said, a little brusquely. I cleared my throat and forced my attention on my computer. “I should get back to work. I need to look at those mock-ups.”

Cameron didn’t go. “You didn’t give me a real answer, when I said you looked stressed.”

I met his gaze. “Of course I’m stressed. I’m stressed all the time, it’s a fact of life. Don’t worry about it.” My voice was sharp, but I was frustrated. He had walked into my office, acted like nothing had ever happened, then blurted out that he admired me. I felt confused, on edge, and yes, stressed, because I had a pile of work to get through and he was wasting my time, standing here talking to me.

“You should relax,” he said.

I barked a laugh. Telling someone to just relax was like telling a sick person to just get better .

“I’m fine,” I snapped.

To prove my point, I returned to my work, my fingers flying across the keyboard. He was still in the office but I ignored him, and eventually, I saw him start to walk away in the corner of my eye. But when he arrived at my door, instead of leaving, he locked it, and the sound of it echoed in the silent room.

I swallowed hard. “What are you doing?” My voice was more wobbly than demanding.

Sure, my office door had a lock, but I almost never used it. Now, my heart started to race as possibilities bloomed in my mind.

He turned around and approached my desk. He looked completely blank, except for the glint in his eyes. It was the same look he’d had Saturday night. It was dangerous.

“Cameron?” I asked, as he moved around my desk. He whirled my chair around so I faced him, and stood so close that his legs almost brushed mine.

“I can help you,” he said quietly, lowering his head so we were eye level.

“Help me with what?” I replied, breathing shallowly.

He leaned forward, so his lips grazed my ear lobe. “I can help you relax.”