Page 29 of The Producer: Aaron

I pause to observe her lips, the drops of water that stop on her cupid’s bow. I stare at her as she bites her lower lip, and my fingers tighten around her hips as I struggle to resist the desire to kiss her.

Her breathing becomes labored as she approaches slowly, reducing the distance between us. My phone vibrates again on the deck chair a few feet away, like an alarm bell waking me up. I detach myself from her and swim to the edge, pushing myself out of the water and grabbing the phone where Dakota threw it a few minutes ago. I read the messages without understanding them because all my reasoning is completely clouded by the erection that presses against my pants. I hear Dakota swimming to where I am and getting out of the water to sit in front of me. I’m so turned on that I don’t dare look her in the eye.

The thing I like most about Aaron’s house is that, despite it being June and the heat of Los Angeles being unbearable, by the pool, there is always a light breeze that gives you relief. Lying on the deck chair under the umbrella and sipping strictly non-alcoholic fruit cocktails is an excellent way to spend my morning relaxing, especially if there is one of the fantasy books I love to keep me company.

I look up at the kitchen window where Aaron is focused on reading the newspaper while sipping one of his smoothies with cabbage leaves and other ingredients, all too healthy for my taste. He tried to get me to taste one, saying they are rich in antioxidants that are good for my skin, but I couldn’t swallow it. The muddy texture and bitter taste were so horrible that I spat it all into the sink under Aaron’s bewildered gaze. In response, I teased him a bit by telling him that those things help him more because he is old, and, as expected, he left the room pretending to be offended.

I study the way his sweaty tank top adheres to his body after hours spent in the gym this morning, the sweatpants that hug his perfect butt, and the dark lines of the phoenix emerging on his shoulders. He’s sexy to die for. I have always considered him a man with charisma, pleasing to the eye, but always too distant to be considered distinct from the public figure he represents.

Living together, however, I’ve seen aspects of him that the public doesn’t have the opportunity to admire, and I must say that they are sexier than an elegant suit sewn on him. It’s sexy how his hair curls on his forehead after a shower, how his lipsbecome sulky while he’s cooking, and how he looks at me as I tell him something while he is focused on the pan.

It’s sexy his way of speaking, reasoning, and making adult chat, allowing me to express an opinion on something that is not frivolous, such as politics or economics. He was pleasantly surprised when I told him I had opened an investment account to put money for my future with the first check I received. We have spent hours discussing the best ways to make the most of my investments to ensure a retirement paycheck that is adequate to one’s standard of living.

It’s official, I have a huge, gigantic, stratospheric crush on my boss.

I still have my eyes resting on him when I see him get up in fury, reach me with great strides, and grab me by the arm to get me up from the deck chair. For a moment, I blush, almost frightened that he may have read my indecent thoughts about him and wants to kick me out of the house.

“You must go to your room and don’t come out until I tell you, okay?” he orders, putting everything I left scattered next to me on the deck chair in my hands and rearranging the pillows to make it appear unused.

I open my mouth to ask him what the hell is going on, but he nails me with a look.

“I’ll explain later, but now you have to run upstairs.”

His tone is so resolute that every protest dies on my lips, and I find myself running up the stairs with my arms full of my stuff. I don’t have time to close the bedroom door behind me when I hear his father’s voice thundering from downstairs, and I stop my run. That man always gives me chills. I drop my stuff on the floor and crawl to the glass parapet overlooking the living room below, lying on the ground on the precious carpet that tickles my naked stomach. I’m lucky that its bristles are so soft that they almost look like a cashmere sweater.

“I told you to fire that bitch of your assistant, and you didn’t do it!” I hear him shout. I can only see Aaron’s bored face and his father’s back from this position.

“I don’t fire one of my best employees just because she threatens to chop off your balls. I hired her precisely because she is not intimidated by the bullshit you pour on her.” Aaron raises his voice a little, the only sign that this conversation is making him angry.

It is strange how I learned to read the small signs of his rigid posture and the intonation of his voice so that I understand when he is uncomfortable. He is angry, but there is something more, something that stops him from clenching his fists or putting his hands in his pockets to hide his white knuckles. He seems almost paralyzed, and the realization causes an icy shiver down my back. Aaron never lets himself be intimidated by anything.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it, you understand?” his father rants.

“And did you show up to my house for the first time in your life just to tell me I have to fire Tracy because she threatened to take your balls? You must be attached to your testicles to feel threatened by her words.” I believe his intention is to ridicule his father, but an inclination in his voice makes him appear insecure.

His father gets closer, and although Aaron doesn’t move, he slightly widens his eyes and appears surprised. I don’t think he’s used to such an attitude on his father’s part, and if I’m honest, I’ve never seen Aaron Steel Sr. lose control in this way. Of course, I have only seen him in public, I don’t know if this is typical behavior between them. From how Aaron seems caught off guard, I think he’s at least as surprised as I am.

“I came here because the girl still lives with you. Only gossip magazines can believe the absurd story that there is a crazystalker. I know you fuck her. Do you want to get stuck with her for the rest of your life? I hope at least you have the decency to use a condom and not get her pregnant. I don’t want you to waste money you can put in the family business for a child born by mistake,” he hisses.

I am so shocked by his words that, for a moment, I don’t realize they are addressed to me. I’m too focused on looking at the mask of fury that covers Aaron’s face.

“If you think you’re coming into my house to use your filthy mouth to insult one of my employees, you haven’t understood anything from life. I shouldn’t even be here to respond to your disgusting insinuations, but one thing I want to be very clear, I don’t sleep with Dakota, and I don’t allow anyone to talk about her in this way,” Aaron hisses with a fury that could incinerate his father.

His father bursts into a laughter so wicked that the blood freezes in my veins.

“Who do you think you are dealing with? With the newbies you surround yourself with? There is no reason to keep her within these walls. You will never convince me that you’ve never fucked her.” He chuckles, amused, before pulling a sheet of paper out of his pants pocket. “Keep this. It’s a prescription for the pill that a friend of mine prescribed. Put it in her breakfast every morning without her noticing, so at least you won’t have a bastard around the house in nine months.”

I am so stunned by his proposal and insinuations that I am amazed to watch as Aaron grabs his father’s tie and draws him a few inches from his face. I can’t see his father’s face, but he doesn’t seem to react to the physicality of that response.

“Get out of my house, and if you dare to come back, I swear I’ll break your legs. If you approach Dakota, you are a dead man,” he hisses.

It’s the second time I’ve heard Aaron intimidate someone whosomehow threatens me. While this situation makes my skin crawl, Aaron’s low, furious voice melts my lower abdomen into a pool of lava that sends every cell in my body into fibrillation. I should be terrified by this whole situation, but since he looked at me in the pool the other night as if he wanted to devour my lips, I can’t help but find his Alpha male attitude sexy to die for.

When Aaron finally lets him go, his father fixes his tie and turns around with a creepy smile.

“When the novelty is over, and you want to get rid of her, don’t ask for my help,” he says before walking out of my sight.

Aaron remains impassive, and when I hear the front door close, I see him lean against the back of the sofa and emit a deep sigh while looking at his bare feet. He seems almost entirely defeated by the meeting.

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