“Still have your mind on him?”
“Not so much.” Not right now. The throb between my legs has begun again. I work quickly, needing to step away from him, to be alone with his calendar and my coffee and not able to do or say something stupid or unprofessional in front of him.
He smirks, like he knows it. “Are you still afraid that you’ll take him back if he comes to his senses?”
“Don’t you mean to ask if I’m still the silly farm girl pining over a spineless dickhead?”
He flinches, and it makes me feel good. Maybe he regrets his unsympathetic words. But why is he getting so personal, all of a sudden? “There. Done.” I run my hand over his tie to line the two ends together, swallowing hard as my fingers graze the hard curves of his chest. I’ve seen it bare enough times to know exactly what’s beneath his shirt. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. Had I not witnessed him naked, I’d be left only to my imagination, and my imagination couldn’t have come up with something as incredible as the real deal.
Henry reaches up to touch a few strands of my hair and I freeze. I usually have it pulled back in a braid, but today I left it down, so in love with how silky it feels, how it cascades over my shoulders and back. “Thank you,” he finally offers, a rare softness flickering in his eyes.
His gaze drops to my lips, but it’s his exhale I feel skate across them as he sighs. “You understand why I said what I did to you yesterday, right?”
“Because I’m your assistant and people can’t get the wrong idea.”
His hand curls into a fist around my hair at my nape, tugging it softly until my head tips back. “There’s a lot at stake for me here, Abbi. Things are a lot more complicated than you can imagine.” He leans in closer, until his mouth is inches away from mine. So painfully close that a tiny gasp escapes my mouth. I can’t believe this is happening.
This can’t be my imagination or my wishful thinking anymore. Either Henry’s a cruel, cruel man...
Or he’s attracted to me.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, a plea for him to stop torturing me like this. But I stifle those words, afraid he won’t give in, that he’ll choose to dismiss me entirely.
“You are so goddamn sweet.” His lips skim over mine as he whispers, “I don’t even like sweet. I like filthy and unemotional. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m at a pivotal moment in my career and you are fucking with my head.”
“I’m sorry.” I close my eyes, silently begging him to press his lips against mine, to let me slide my tongue against his, taste his mouth. It has to be him making that move; I’ve humiliated myself too many times.
Our hot breath mixes between us, the seconds growing longer as my nipples grow tight and my breasts grow heavy and the throb between my legs becomes unbearable, my panties drenched.
And he hasn’t pulled back.
“I need to know that you can keep your feelings for me in check when we’re in public. Can you do that?”
When we’re in public? My heart pounds inside my chest. “What about in private?”
Henry’s phone begins to ring and he breaks free of me instantly, almost as if the sound was a warning alarm. I nearly topple over with frustration. Taking a step back to grab his suit jacket, he says, “We have our daily status meeting this morning, right?”
“Right. Because of your afternoon sail.” Oh God. Every part of my body is hot now, from my scalp right down to my core.
He lets out a deep exhale, the only sign that the unexpected moment had any effect on him at all. Not the only sign, I realize as he answers his phone and my eyes drift to the prominent bulge at the front of his dress pants.
What the hell just happened?
I trail him out, leaving all my rational thoughts scattered on the floor.
~ ~ ~ ~
The meeting runs exactly the same as it did the last two times, only now I’m out of sorts and struggling to pay attention. I’ve played our moment through my mind a dozen times since our silent walk from the cabin.
Henry nearly kissed me this morning. Why? I know my hair looks good, but I haven’t changed that much.
His knee bobs impatiently, mere inches away from mine. So much closer than he has been in the past. Close enough that I could reach over and touch him. My fingers itch with the urge, but I know that wouldn’t go over well.
What is happening between us?
“Staff update, Belinda?”
“We’ve had a few incidents.”
That helps break the spell that Henry has cast on me. I glance up to find Belinda’s sharp eyes flickering to me.
But it’s Pierre who speaks. “Two nights ago, one of the bar staff members took it upon herself to feed a celebrity guest free scotches all night at the bar.”
Now Henry frowns. “Why?”
“Apparently the guest was upset that she mixed up his scotch for a cheap brand, so she figured she’d ease his anger with a few on the house.”
“How many dollars’ worth?”
“A grand. It was a very rare bottle.”
Henry shakes his head to himself.
Now Belinda steps in. “That’s not all. Security has her going to his hotel room after her shift was over.”
“Bow-chicka-wow-wow,” Ryan mutters absently, the only indication that he’s paying attention as he scans his phone.
“You’ve terminated employment?” Henry asks.
“Not yet. I wanted to—”
He cuts Belinda off with “Get rid of her. Get her on a ferry right away. I can’t have staff making up their own rules, and we’re not running a damn brothel. What’s her name?”
“Rachel Avery.”
Is that my Rachel? I don’t know her last name but she works at the bar. Two nights ago... She wasn’t in her bed when I got up to head to the showers.
My stomach sinks. It must be her.
And Henry just demanded her firing. I glance at him, wondering if he realizes who she is to me, but he simply stares straight ahead, unaffected. “The other issue?”
Belinda’s lips twist, her poor attempt to hide a smile. “This morning, a guest complained that two of our staff were utilizing the spa for their own personal needs last night, while she and her friends were waiting for service.” Her eyes settle on me. “I can’t say that I blame them for being upset.”
My stomach drops. The three women waiting in the lobby when Katie dragged me into the room last night. Without permission. That was them. This is about me.
Oh my God.
I’m unable to stop myself from reaching for Henry’s knee below the table, squeezing it hard as my heart pounds inside my chest. Henry’s gaze flickers to mine. With my eyes, I plead for him not to press, not to ask for details, not to fire me—or Katie—on the spot. Worse, I’ll die if Belinda has figured out what “service” Katie provided and that becomes a topic of discussion.
He must pick up on my discomfort—anyone would, my face is likely ghostly white—because he dismisses everyone with an, “Okay. That’s all.”
I could kiss him, right here, right now.
“Sally, Belinda, a word.” Everyone gets up. “Wait for me in the hall, Abbi.”
I duck out and round the corner, hugging my iPad to my chest, my legs wobbly, my blood rushing through my ears, throwing my balance off even more. I consider running and never looking back.
“Sally? Is this true?” The walls aren’t soundproof and, thanks to the empty, quiet hall, I can easily hear Henry’s deep voice through the door.
“It’s news to me.”
“It was your assistant, Henry,” Belinda offers, the smug tone glaringly obvious.
“I’m aware that she was in the salon last night. Sally cleared it with me.” Henry’s calm voice gives me a false sense of security.