Page 4 of Charmed and Alarmed

If there’s one thing I’m sure of here, it’s that neither of us is actually sorry. Swallowing, I turn to look at her beautiful face, half-lit by the streetlight shining down on the roof of the car. Leni looks back at me from beneath a fringe of dark lashes, her teeth catching on her full bottom lip.

Fuck it.

“The night doesn’t have to end here,” I suggest mildly, pulse elevating with every second that passes, cocooned inside the dark interior of my car with her.

Leni nods slowly, processing this. “Where would you like it to end instead?”

I reach out, wrapping my hand around her wrist. Both of us watch as my thumb skims over the delicate, translucent skin there. “I’d like it to end in my bed.”

In the quiet stillness of the car, I don’t miss the uneven breath she lets out. When I look up to meet her eyes, however, there is nothing nervous or unsure in her smile. “I would too. There’s just one problem, though.”

My cock, which has been hard since I saw her standing on the curb, throbs. “What’s that?”

Leni’s free hand finds the door handle and she pushes it open, flooding the car with freezing winter air. My hold on her wrist slips. I watch, heart in my throat, as she gets out of the car, her heels clicking on the pavement. For a moment, I expect she’s going to slam the door and walk away, but she doesn’t. Instead, Lenora Vogel leans down to look at me, wearing a wicked, mischievous smile that makes me harder than ever. “I have no intention of losing my virginity to my parents’ former bang buddy.”

Then, before I can regain some semblance of logical brain activity in the wake of this pronouncement, she wiggles her fingers at me, beaming. “Night night, Holden.”

She slams the door and walks toward the apartment building, taking my ability to think with her.

2

LENORA

PRESENT

Rock bottom has an ergonomic keyboard, rolling chair, and an annoying coworker named Linda-Rae.

Not Linda. Linda-Rae. If you call her Linda, you will be corrected and subject to a very long sigh. Linda-Rae not Linda will then share an exasperated look with her old lady office cronies, one that clearly says:that’s what you get for a nepotism hire.

“You need to sign here,” Linda-Rae informs me crisply, pursing her lips as she jabs her finger at the bottom of yet another form. As if I’m incompetent for missing one of the fifty thousand boxes I needed to fill out in order to receive a paycheck.

Obligingly, my pen swipes over the offending spot, and I lean back in my chair, staring around as the woman scrutinizes my employment documents with obvious distaste. The human resources office of Ellinger and Vogel Architecture is easily the blandest, most uninspired space in the entire building. Other employees seem to be avoiding it like the plague, skirting past the open doorway with their eyes buried in paperwork, as if terrified Linda-Rae is going to fly out and nab them for a dress code violation.

I hate it here.

This new “opportunity” is a result of my father’s fairly obvious effort to get me out of the house, as if trading in dance studios in New York for the family business is going to do anything to dispel my soul-crushing new reality. It won’t. I already know that. But, considering I have spent the last five months squatting in my sister’s apartment and have no social or professional obligations beyond physical therapy twice a week, I didn’t really have a reason to refuse.

“How’s it going?” My father’s voice fills the room, and it’s all I can do to suppress a grimace. I look around in time to see him stepping into the office, offering Linda-Rae a polite smile.

“Oh, we’re nearly squared away. Lenora will do just fine at E&V,” the woman tells him, withfarmore warmth than she’s displayed to me during the hour or so I’ve been trapped in this beige dungeon between a CPR poster and the wicked witch of tax forms.

I must be maturing because I suppress the urge to stick my tongue out at her as I get to my feet. Or maybe all my attention is simply dedicated to not letting on how stiff and painful my right leg is after sitting still for so long. The limb, which was once the perfectly functioning extremity of a professional dancer, is now a painful reminder of just how far I’ve fallen.

It doesn’t matter if I’m sitting in Honor’s apartment or at some random desk at my father’s business, I’ll be miserable either way. Money is required for existence in the capitalist hellscape in which I was born, however, so here I am.

Dad beams at Linda-Rae, so obviously pleased with himself for orchestrating this plan to crush whatever remains of my soul. “Come on, Len. I’ll show you your desk,” he offers cheerfully.

My throat is tight as I take the pink, glittery cane resting against the side of Linda-Rae’s desk, leaning heavily on the stupid thing as I follow Dad out into the hall. “You’re going to be on Holden’s team,” he informs me cheerfully, “HR didn’t think it would be a good idea to have you on mine.”

Do you know what? I take back every vicious, bitter thought I just had about that woman. Linda-Rae did me a solid. The prospect of Holden Ellinger seeing me this low—especially after our lastencounter—is pretty humiliating, but I’ll take it over watching my father gaze adoringly at his only slightly older than me girlfriend day in and day out.

“Makes sense,” I say, the thud of my cane echoing off the marble floors of the lobby as we emerge from the admin hallway. Ellinger and Vogel Architecture, or E&V, is located in what was once a bank. Dad and Holden adapted the building, throwing a contemporary office vibe into the classic space, and even my bitter ass can admit it’s beautiful. Warm summer light is filtering in through the high windows, and the place is abuzz with its usual bustling activity.

Dad slows down his pace as we approach the stairs, clearly trying to be casual about it and not upset me with the reminder my leg is fucked up beyond all comprehension.

“What am I going to be doing exactly?” I ask, willing my tone to not betray the sharp pain that shoots up the back of my calf as we begin climbing the sweeping marble staircase, side by side.

He glances at me, still carefully keeping pace with me in slow, measured steps. “You’ll be the administrative assistant for Team E. I’m sure you’ll find it easy to learn, a lot of it is very basic. Scheduling, organizing, restocking. That kind of thing.”

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