Page 12 of Objection
The last few days had been full of stress. I had worked late every night, trying to help get things situated so that Mr. Wellington and I could work more easily. That was our biggest problem right now. Whoever he had hired to handle his marketing was a genius because work was pouring in. We weren’t as organized as I wanted us to be, so I was taking care of it. I wanted Mr. Wellington to see that I was capable of handling the job. This still felt like a trial period position for me.
I got back to work, setting up the program he had purchased at my request, but I could still feel his eyes on me. I shook off the feeling and ignored the moment. I hadn’t finished a single thing before my phone was buzzing. I cringed inwardly that it made ten times more noise against the glass table as it would have from my purse. I shouldn’t have had it out, honestly, but I had forgotten to put it away after lunch. I mouthed my apologies towards Mr. Wellington before checking the message.
-Won’t be over tonight. The guys r going 2 a strip club for Jerry’s bday. C U L8R. - David
I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was going to a strip club.
-Be safe. - Posey
David had been weird for the last two weeks. Yes, I do think weird was the right word for it. If he wasn’t stewing over the fact that I took this job, he was being overly nice. Everything felt so hot and cold. It was almost as though my relationship was giving me an obscene case of whiplash.
We had fought over the late nights, but then he celebrated me when I told him how much work I had accomplished that day. He was very concerned with making Mr. Wellington happy and doing a good job, but then the next moment upset that I was gone late into the evening working. He had been asking strange questions too, wondering what we did all day, what my work consisted of. Just the most random questions. And heaven forbid if I refuse to answer a question.
The whole thing amounted to me thanking every deity I could think of that today was finally Friday and I had the weekend ahead of me to look forward to. If I ever finished this laundry list of items from Mr. Wellington, that is.
“Ms. Adams, please draft up this list of documents before you leave today,” he spoke up from his end of the table. I took a deep breath, not wanting to just explode. I was only one person and could only do so much.
“Certainly Mr. Wellington. Can I push off the Grant pleadings until Monday, then?” I asked, hoping he would see that he was overloading me with things in the late afternoon.
“No, they are all time-sensitive. I have faith you can accomplish the task given, Ms. Adams.” He stood from his chair and walked into the kitchen, pulling his cell phone out as he walked away. I have no idea what was said, his ass in those slacks was —in a word, mouthwatering.
There were a few things I had noticed about him this week; things I hadn’t noticed working for Mr. Farley. Here, we were in close proximity, at least for now. The way when he was frustrated, his eyes would go all intense, a deep dark sapphire blue and he would slip the tip of his thumb between his teeth, deep in concentration. It was a look on him that had my stomach dropping. It was near impossible to ignore that Mr. Wellington was insanely gorgeous. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair, vibrant blue eyes that pierced you across a dining room table.
I shook off the thought as he made his way back into the room. I needed to stay focused on my work anyway, if I had any intention of leaving here at a decent time tonight. Luckily, I would not have to come home to David bitching about the late hour tonight. No, I think some takeout, some Netflix followed by a bubble bath and a good book sounded like a phenomenal plan.
The afternoon faded into evening as we continued to work in near silence. The phone calls had finally ceased and we were both completely engrossed in our work. When the knock sounded at the door, both of us jumped in our seats. I was sure I didn’t make a sound when it startled me. Fairley certain at least. Mr. Wellington made his way to the front door with a confused look on his face. When he opened the door, however, he stood ramrod straight.
The dining room was positioned close enough to the door I could hear everything, I could see everything. In the doorway stood a small, petite woman likely in her early twenties. She was brunette and cute, dressed in a pair of heels and a trench coat. The smile on her face was expectant and excited. Mr. Wellington’s face did not share the same sentiment. I could barely make out the words he spoke.
“You know where to go. Wait for me. Do not disappoint me,” he commanded so quietly. The woman’s lips pressed tightly together, and she sped off through the hallway to an unknown room like she was on a mission from God himself. I watched through my peripheral vision as Mr. Wellington took a breath and shook his shoulders out before heading back to the dining room where I sat.
“Ms. Adams, why don’t you call it a night.” It wasn’t a question.
“Of course, I’ll just finish filing this —”
“Now, Ms. Adams!” The statement wasn’t barked, but his words left no room for argument. A single breath later, I nodded my head, closing out my programs and gathering my things as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could. It apparently wasn’t fast enough as he sighed and looked at his watch repeatedly.
I quickly shoved things into my purse and made my way to the front door, where he had already opened the door for my departure.
“Have a good —” I began to bid him a good evening as I walked out of the front door, but he had already shut the door firmly behind me, not a moment after I had passed through. Well, fine then.
With a bit of a huff, I walked to my car and drove away, grateful that I didn’t have to deal with half the traffic I used to at Mr. Farley’s firm. That was definitely one of the perks of moving companies. Sure, when Mr. Wellington expanded, I’m sure we would end up moving to a nice office downtown, but for now, the lack of traffic was spectacular, and I would milk it for as long as I could.
I flipped on my favorite playlist and belted out the lyrics to my favorite singers and tried not to think of Mr. Wellington. The drive passed quickly, and soon I was back home. Back home in my blissfully clean and quiet house. I dialed my favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered my favorite takeout. While I waited for my delivery, I tidied up and found a show on Netflix to watch while I ate. I was excited to have no distractions for the rest of the weekend. Sure, David may stop by at some point, but that would be it. I had worked hard all week to keep up with the housework and take care of my house so that this first weekend could be a relaxing one.
The food was as delicious as I had remembered and the show I was currently watching at the suggestion of Sandra, was immediately going onto my must binge list. It was difficult to turn it off and walk away; however, that bubble bath was calling my name. I grabbed my book, my bathrobe, and my basket of items before heading into the bathroom. I had a special stash of candles, bath bombs, bath salts, and more for nights just like this. Baths were one of my favorite ways to give myself self-care.
The bath filled quickly as I lit candles and gave the room a warm golden glow. Slipping into the steaming water, I let myself sink under the surface and let my muscles succumb to the sweet heat and the relaxing scents. Now to delve into the incredible story of the asshole leader of the motorcycle club and the fiery woman he couldn’t stay away from.
My thighs slid against each other as the tensions in the book mounted. The man taking the woman and shoving her against a wall, stealing her breath and holding her captive to his wants, his desires. How she fought him, hissing her responses back and nipping at him wherever she could reach. It was raw, it was animalistic.
So why did the blond, muscle-bound main character suddenly become a tall, dark, blue-eyed man in my mind. And why did it make me even wetter?
7
Soren
I was goingto lose my damned mind. I was a professional. I was calm and calculated and I was reasonable. I was hardworking, and I was resolute in my decisions. Damn it all if little Ms. Adams wasn’t on my last damned nerve. The first week had passed into a second week, and then a third. With each passing day she took on more, which was a godsend. But the more she took on, the more vocal she became. She was sassy; she was quick-witted. Almost, and I hated to say this — bratty.
