Shade Page 7

  What we’re doing is so wrong in so many ways, the least important of which is the fact that we’re doing it on Claire’s desk.

  He pulls away briefly, softly breathing on my clit. And then, he kisses me gently before he swirls his tongue and sucks on my flesh, stroking me harder.

  From head to toe, I begin to quiver.

  I open my legs, even more, my back arched, my chest heaving. I stifle a moan when all I want to do is scream with pleasure.

  “You stay quiet for me, baby. Okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  His tongue slips inside me, and my chest tilts up, my hand pressing on the back of his head, the pleasure building, spinning out of control.

  Just as I start to edge, his fingers slip into me again, his tongue stroking my clit, and as I go up fast, there’s nothing I can do right now to stop the soaring pleasure from barreling through me.

  Shaking and panting, I clamp my hand over my mouth, fighting back a crying moan.

  “Shade... Oh, Shade.”

  Clamor fills the hallway as people walk back to their cubicles.

  Still throbbing, I bolt upright, fear zapping through me.

  I slide my ass off the desk, pull my top on, collect the jacket, and shrug it on before I smooth my skirt, leaving my teddy open between my legs.

  Smiling, he adjusts his hard cock, leans closer to me, and kisses me, his swollen lips and tongue tasting like me.

  I shouldn’t do this right now since we really don’t have much time or an exit plan for that matter, but I throw my arms around his neck and pull him into me, craving another kiss.

  He snakes his arm around my waist and melts into me without a care in the world.

  People start strolling by his office, and yet we don’t stop. His lips are firm and silky, his tongue demanding, my mouth responding to him, famished.

  Before I know it, what I fear the most happens–– Claire’s voice rings out nearby.

  She knocks on the door, prompting us to break our kiss.

  Quietly, he brings his index finger to his lips.

  We both freeze.

  “Miss Jennings, have you seen Mr. Hennessy?”

  “I’m afraid I did not. We were all in the conference room. I imagine he left if his office is locked.”

  “I don’t think he would’ve bothered to lock it.”

  “Maybe someone else did.”

  Claire’s voice travels across the corridor as she spins away from the door. I leap to the window and peek through the blinds.

  Across the hallway, she tilts her head and looks inside my office through the window. The door is locked, yet my bag is still there, sitting on my desk.

  She keeps inspecting my workspace while my mind scrambles for a solution.

  And then I remember.

  A service door connects Claire’s office with the fire escape stairs, so I motion to Shade.

  He picks up his jacket before we slip out of the room.

  We make one stop on a stair landing as he loops his arms around me and shoves me against the wall.

  I begin to mumble something, but his mouth is sliding onto mine already, our tongues rolling greedily as moans vibrate in my throat.

  Tingly between my legs, I rock my hips against him, grinding against the hard ridge of his erection, my hands falling to his ass before I grab his muscles.

  He breaks the kiss and looks at me, his eyes half closed, his chest rising with a deep breath.

  “I want more of you, Tara,” he says, his hands framing my face.

  Cuffing his wrists, I look into his eyes and wait.

  “But it’s not going to be easy...” he murmurs, sadness reading on his face. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I say softly.

  “You have to listen to me and follow my instructions. Can you do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it has to remain our little secret.”

  “I know.”

  “Don’t talk to anyone. Especially Claire. And stay away from Elia.”

  “Okay.”

  He kisses me again and pulls away.

  “Shade?”

  “Yes?”

  “There’s only one thing...”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t want to be a toy for you.”

  His eyes light up with a smile.

  “You’re not going to be a toy, baby. I promise.”

  He leans to me and places a kiss on my cheek.

  “Now go there, and tell Claire I asked you to show me the new offices on this level. If she asks about the desk, tell her that I wasn’t happy with the color, and I’d like an espresso finish by tomorrow afternoon.”

  I smile as he rushes down the stairs, slips through a door and strides to the elevator.

  I wait a few more moments, inspect my skirt and top and hair several times before I clear my throat and walk back to my office.

  I stroll across the hallway, tossing around glances filled with panic.

  Claire’s office–– now Shade’s, is wide open, all the lights on.

  Standing in the doorway, Claire barks at her secretary. On her knees, Ms. Jennings picks all sort of things off the floor.

  As I edge closer, Claire pivots to me.

  “Tara?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you in here with Mr. Hennessy?”

  “Briefly,” I say, choking on the word.

  I swing my eyes to the mess on the floor.

  “What exactly were you two doing in my office.”

  “We were discussing furniture options.”

  She lifts an eyebrow.

  “Mr. Hennessy would like a different finish for his desk,” I say, pointing to the furniture.

  Her eyebrows push so high I’m afraid they’re going to fall off. Her eyes bulge out, her face flushed as she grapples with disbelief. Fury makes her lips tremble, and her nostrils flare.

  She can see defiance written all over her office–– especially the trashed desk, and she wholeheartedly resents it, yet there’ is nothing she can do about it.

  At least not to him, anyway.

  “Okay. I can arrange that,” she says. “Did he say anything about your presentation?”

  I blink a few times, thrown off by her question, but I regain my composure quickly.

  “He offered a few suggestions. And then he asked me to show him the new offices. I walked with him down there and we spent some time reviewing the plans. I also locked your office, since there was no one else left on the floor.”

  “I see. It makes sense,” she says, looking at me suspiciously.

  I bite my lip. Shit. That was way too much information.

  A different expression glides over her face.

  “Okay. That’s all. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says dismissively.

  A bad feeling starts hovering over me. Without another word, I dart to my office, grab my bag, and rush to the elevator.

  7

  TARA

  Thick clouds cover the sky.

  It’s a dark morning, the weather forecast predicting a rainy afternoon.

  I didn’t sleep much last night, and the coffee I sipped in a hurry before I came here makes my head buzz.

  It’s almost seven thirty, and the firm is quiet.

  I enter the break-room, grab a bottle of water and a fruit yogurt from the fridge and go straight to my office.

  I slip into my chair, power on my laptop, and pull up a report that I quickly ignore before I find myself staring at the screen, my mind blank.

  Soon the place gets animated.

  It’s enough to make me pull myself together and begin working on my reports.

  Close to ten o’clock, a crew of four people brings in a new desk. Claire directs the workers as they pull out her old desk and set the new one in her office.

  I almost pull a muscle, craning my neck every time I hear a door or a male voice or I catch a tall silhouette striding down the corridor.

  Close to lunchtime, I lose hope.

&
nbsp; He’s not coming in today. Or ever.

  I’m in the middle of eating my salad when a sound of intermingled female voices travels through the air. Claire’s voice is jovial, clinking like a freshly polished bell while Elia’s is melodious, lined with quiet laughter.

  I crane my neck again and peek through the open door when I spot Elia Hennessy walking by Claire’s side.

  Smoothly, I pull out of my chair, sneak behind the big plant tucked in the corner, and peer outside. The two women stop in the middle of the corridor, not far from my office.

  Gesturing, Claire explains something to Elia.

  My boss, a dark-haired woman in her mid-fifties, sports a boxy jacket, a silk blouse, pumps, and a knee-length, pleated skirt.

  Fashioning a black and white, designer dress, perfectly molded on her body, Elia listens attentively, her dangling, sparkling earrings swaying in the air as she slowly nods.

  When I least expect it, she spins on her heel and glances in the direction of my office. I duck and dive for the corner, my heart throbbing in my throat.

  A moment later, I sneak back to the window.

  Elia looks at Claire, her head still bobbing, their gazes swinging back and forth between our offices.

  My knees are about to give in as Claire keeps talking, and Elia nods in agreement.

  My stomach curls up into a ball, clenching in panic.

  I need to calm down, but no matter which way I spin it, I can’t brush off my panic.

  I’m perfectly aware that just because they’re talking to each other doesn’t mean squat.

  There’s no way Claire knows what happened in Shade’s office.

  Even if she suspects something, she can’t possibly suggest that to Elia. Not without sounding ridiculous and looking like a fool.

  They enter Shade’s office and walk around the desk. Sweat rolls down my back as Claire motions to his desk.

  Oh, that’s bad, I muse, as I crash into my chair, and turn to stone.

  Still, they can’t possibly know for sure.

  Just because Shade asked to see me and I spent half an hour in his company doesn’t mean anything.

  Who in their right mind would link him to someone like me?

  I take a few clipped breaths before the door opens, and Claire walks in.

  I leap up to my feet, startled.

  “Oh, Tara...” she singsongs, a sly smile flashing on her lips. “I was relaying the yesterday incident to Miss Hennessy,” she says, arching an eyebrow.

  My breath folds at the bottom of my throat as my eyes start darting back and forth.

  “Yes?”

  “Would you be so kind as to give her a brief account of the... um... incident?”

  Arms crossed over her chest, Elia Hennessy scans me with her piercing eyes.

  I clear my throat first before I offer the same worn out explanation.

  I do my best to be consistent while keeping my emotions under control and not letting out how I feel–– a tall order, considering that I’m doing it while subjected to her scrutiny.

  “So what did Mr. Hennessy say about the new offices?” Elia asks, an amused smile reaching her eyes.

  “We were talking about the furniture, and the fact that he’d rather have a dark finish for his desk.”

  “Hmm... I see.”

  Elia smiles politely, but something in her eyes tells me that I just confirmed her suspicion on what really happened between her son and me yesterday afternoon.

  “Okay, then,” she mutters before she pivots to my boss. “Thank you so much for your help, Claire.”

  She spins around and struts away, a smug smile lining her lips.

  Anxiously, I expect Claire to leave as well.

  Instead, she closes the door and turns around to face me, her glare scalding me.

  “Take a seat, Tara.”

  Tensely, I fall into my seat as she slides into a chair across from me.

  “Is there anything that I should know about what happened yesterday afternoon?”

  Resting my elbows on my desk, I lift my chin and look at her with fake confidence, a trick I learned in sales training.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say in a firm, resolute voice.

  Leaning back, she unbuttons her jacket and fluffs up her bow that looks like a sleepy puppy on her chest.

  Her hands curl around the armrests.

  “Okay. Let me spell it out for you. We have a zero tolerance policy for inappropriate behavior in this company.”

  I hold my hand up.

  “Let me finish,” she says.

  “I’m not talking about Shade Hennessy. He can do whatever he wants. It’s his company. You, on the other hand... You should be very careful. The slightest suspicion of inappropriate behavior can hurt you. You’ve done so well in this past six months. You have a great future ahead of you. You can climb the corporate ladder, Tara. It’s stupid to waste a great opportunity for nothing.”

  Fingers clasped together, I study the woman in front of me.

  She’s definitely fishing for information.

  She gives me the good, the bad, and everything in between, like someone who has no idea what had actually happened.

  But she has a guess, and so does Elia.

  “I still don’t know what you’re referring to,” I say in an even voice.

  She flicks her hands up and shifts in her seat as if she is about to leave.

  No such luck.

  “Okay, okay. I got it,” she says. “What about I give you a fair warning then.”

  She pushes up to her feet and fumbles through the contents of her pocket.

  “I found your top-seller rep pen in his office. It was on the floor. I thought you might need it since you’ve used it the entire week in training. And I thought that, perhaps, you lost it yesterday,” she says before she tosses the pen on the table.

  Heat rolls on my face, and I pray the color is not as intense as it feels.

  “Thank you,” I say, flatly. “It must have slipped from my pocket. I completely forgot about it,” I say, trying to act casual about it.

  She drops something else on the table.

  “I also found this. Maybe you need to sew it back on,” she says, giving me a catty smile.

  My mouth drops open. I freeze for a few seconds as I stare at the snap.

  “I found it next to your pen. I imagine that it’s yours.”

  I look up at her. Her malicious smile brings bile to my mouth. This is not only Claire Long, my boss, talking.

  This is also the woman in her speaking to me.

  She’s going the extra mile to crush me like the little bug that I am, her sheer disgust for me spilling all over her face.

  “I’m not sure that it belongs to me,” I say. “It could’ve come off any piece of clothing.

  “Well... It’s certainly not mine. I don’t wear that type of clothing. I dislike snaps. I find them... unreliable,” she says, a spiteful smile crumpling under her nose. “I’ll let you go back to work now,” she says. “By the way, I need your report on Monday morning,” she throws over her shoulder as she walks out the door.

  I stare at her back as she walks away, my head spinning.

  I can’t possibly finish the report that she initially had set a deadline for, two weeks from now. Not even if I work straight through Monday morning.

  I feel down as I close the door and lower myself into my seat, my body drained of energy all of a sudden.

  I can see now how they’re all connected. The incident, the snap, and the report.

  Regardless of what will happen from this point on, I know I’m losing my job, and it happens faster than I thought.

  For the next half an hour, I’m angry, mainly at myself. I don’t know why things unravel so fast, and all at once.

  I don’t know what conclusion I’m supposed to draw from this, or what life lesson I should learn.

  All my life, I’ve tried to do good. Those kinds of things that good people are supposed to do.<
br />
  I’ve tried to please my mom, my boss, and the man I shared my life with. I’ve done all that without questioning, without asking for anything for myself. And I kept everybody happy except, as it turns out, me. The moment I dared to be different, things started to collapse.

  I stride to the window, and for a moment, I shift my focus to the park. A young man walks a dog down an alley.

  I couldn’t even have a dog. My mom was against it. Josh didn’t like dogs or any other animal for that matter.

  Come to think of it, he didn’t like me much.

  Even Claire suggested against it, pointing to my traveling schedule. He’d complicate my existence, she said.

  What existence?

  I let out a sigh, and glance at the clock.

  It’s close to five o’clock when I start to stack the folders and clean up my desk. Today is not the day to stay late. It makes no difference whether I leave at ten in the evening or now.

  I start buttoning up my jacket when the door opens, and Danielle walks in with a small box in her hands.

  She places it on the table.

  “Delivery for you,” she says.

  I’m eyeing the box suspiciously.

  “So late?”

  “Yes. It was dropped off by a messenger.”

  It doesn’t look like a regular parcel.

  Wrapped in black paper, it has a shiny golden label attached to it. It looks like a gift.

  “Can I go now?” she asks.

  “Yes. I’ll see you on Monday,” I say, without raising my eyes.

  She walks out.

  Rushed, I lock the door and close the blinds before I open the box. My eyes drop to the handwritten note.

  ‘A car will pick you up at nine o’clock.’

  I slip my fingers under the swishy paper and brush a piece of silky fabric. Without pulling it out of the box, I unfold a set of lingerie. A low cut, illusion bra, a lace waist corset with adjustable garters and V-string lace panties. All made of black lace, and Swarovski crystals.

  A smile flutters across my lips.

  My boss tries my door before she raps on it impatiently.

  I drop everything back in, set the lid back on and push the box under my desk. Hurriedly, I slide the folders next to my laptop, dash to the door and unlock it.

  “Can you please not lock yourself in?”