Page 12 of Consumed By You
The moment I met Benjamin Scott, I was electrified. The feeling I’d been searching for was suddenly there…latched to the one person I can’t have.
I take the contracts I’ve made from the printer, giving the papers a sound once-over. I did it. I made it through my first day.
I walk into his darkened office and lay each of them flat on his immaculate desk.
There.Take that, Mr. Scott.
Back in my office I retrieve my bags, turn off the lights, and head for the elevator. Everyone has already left for the day. Despite my aching belly, I’m pleased knowing I worked hard today. I feel accomplished.
When I step out into the large foyer to head out into the cold night, Evan, the security guard on duty, acknowledges me from his desk. “Working late tonight, huh? And on the first day.” He shakes his head. “You’ll do fine here.”
I like him already. “Good night, Evan.”
I shiver as the doorman opens the door for me. I turn left to head home, breathing in the New York City fumes I hate to love.
“Miss Fontaine.”
I whirl around, hearing his familiar voice. Benjamin’s standing outside of a black limousine, watching me expectantly. “Were you just going to pass right by me?”
“I didn’t see you, sir.”
“I figured I’d give you a lift home.”
“You don’t have to. I can walk.”
“It’s late, Darcy. You should never walk alone at night.”
“I’m completely capable of handling myself, Mr. Scott.”
He shakes his head, looking like he’s enjoying my sudden stubbornness. “Can you just get into the car?”
Knowing I really don’t have a choice, I comply.
His limo is exactly how I would have imagined it. Expensive, classy, sleek, and entirely black. There’s a small bar in the middle, the liquor bathed in warm light, sending my eyes rolling back into my brain.
“Where do you live?”
“34th Street. Herald Square.”
Benjamin presses a button next to him. “Dimitri.”
“Sir?”
“34th Street.”
“Yes, sir.”
The car surges forward and I look everywhere else to avoid the intense man next to me.
“Have you eaten?”
At his question, which is also most certainly a request, the familiar butterflies build like a cataclysmic twister in my hollow belly. I shake my head.
He presses the button again.
“Sir?”
“Kurumazushi, Dimitri.”
