Page 19 of Chance Happenings
From: Chance Sullivan
To: Alexa Wilde
Subject: Any Day Now
Alexa,
I seem to recall requesting your presence to review last week's numbers some 2 hours ago. I even ordered lunch. That time came and went. So, I had Miranda attempt to reach you in your office. Like me, she got no response. Dane’s men have assured me you’re still in the building, so my only guess is that for some depressing reason you have remained holed up in your office all day and blatantly disregarded a direct order. You have 15 minutes.
Thank you for your time.
Chance
* * *
I roll my eyes as I read the email for a second time. Chance is really trying to push the envelope on this. Normally just forwarding him an email of the weekly reports would suffice. Today that’s not good enough. He’s trying to engage me and using his status as my boss to do so. Luckily, I had enough foresight this morning to dress for the occasion. I have on one of my signature power suits. Similar to ones I’ve donned many times to work in New York after a particularly demoralizing encounter with Pearce or when I knew I had to go into a boardroom and destroy the opposition. Readying myself for a fight, I grab my blazer and laptop, preparing myself for whatever Chance is getting ready to throw at me. What’s worse, I have absolutely no idea what’s in these reports.
Chance
I’m an asshole, but it's not like I’ve ever tried to play innocent or say otherwise. When we woke up and got ready for work today, I gave Alexa her space. I even let her sulk or think or do whatever the hell she’s been doing all morning. But now I gotta up my game and nip this in the bud before she fully puts that wall back up between us, even if that means pulling out the boss card to get Alexa to come to me. I know that she’s in her office and that she’s online, so I just look at the clock and wait.
As expected, right about thirteen minutes into my wait, in walks Alexa looking angry but sexy as fuck. The crazy thing is this suit she has on is just some well-tailored pants suit with a mock turtleneck, so she’s completely covered from the neck down but still somehow exuding sex appeal. Just as she sets up all her stuff at the small round conference table on the far side of the room I cringe because now I can either sit here and look like an idiot while she’s across the room trying to discuss numbers or look like a perv when I get up and walk over to the table with the raging hard on. “Glad you could take time out of your busy schedule. Just give me a second to finish something up and I’ll be right with you.” I say, like she was the one who requested this meeting. Meanwhile, I start to count backwards from fifty, willing my dick to go down. I even pull up my email and start typing the numbers that I’m counting for good measure. Before Alexa gets antsy, I close the email and get up to set up across from her at the table. “So, you want to start off?” that has her glaring at me, but I just smile, loving her eyes on me.
“You’re the one insisting I come here. You start off. I sent you the numbers tell me what’s acceptable and what you want changed.” She says as she’s gritting her teeth. Good thing I started early on making my move because she is in rare form right now, ready to shut me out.
“Ladies first, besides I think my dad intends for you to eventually replace me anyways. This'll be good practice for you.” That statement grants me an eye roll. Good. I know whatever emotion I can get out of her is better than indifference. The same indifference I’ve faced for the past ten years.
“Well Boss,” she says, taking a dig at my email. “If you’ll look at the Jameson account, you’ll see we’re trending ahead of schedule which will eventually positively impact the budget. That being said, I’ve taken the time to look at each line item to identify where we’re picking up that extra time from and figure out what they're doing, so we can carry it over to our upcoming Mitchell account. Also, we can implement whatever we can to get caught up on the Van Buren….” I now need to refocus because I’m getting hard again. After she hit all the major points in the first ten seconds of her spiel, my mind started zoning out thinking about all the things we did yesterday and last night that morphed from her being bent over the couch to a new image of her being bent over my desk. The only thing keeping me from making a move on those thoughts is that I know Alexa would not go for that just yet. At least not until we're more solid in our relationship. “Heeeello, earth to Chance, did you hear what I just said?”
“Yeah, I did. I was just thinking if there’s anything that can be done better but to be really honest, I think what you just said is perfect.” When she pulls a face that looks irritated and amused, I know I’ve fucked up.
“So, you think it's perfect that Mrs. Van Buren’s having sex with one of our plumbing contractors behind Mr. Van Buren’s back?” She says and I just play it cool because she must have caught on to the fact that I stopped listening and is fucking with me. The longer the question hangs in the air, the more nervous I get. Huh, I got to pull this back to my favor somehow.
“Of course it’s not perfect. Mr. Van Buren is liable to have one of our best subs knocked off before we can find a replacement and that's after he sues us. I was just thinking about how perfect we were yesterday.” I say, just deciding to throw it on out there. There’s not much else we can do as far as work stuff besides reassign the plumber and honestly, I don't give a fuck about him and Mrs. Van Buren, that’s their business, not mine.
Just the mention of last night has Alexa looking visibly uncomfortable and flushed. She clearly tries to tamp down whatever emotion she’s having right now but gives up and starts packing up to leave, not even bothering to verbally respond to my statement. Welp, here goes nothing. “So, are you going to pretend like nothing happened?” I say, opening the floor to her.
“No, I’m not going to pretend like nothing happened, because something obviously did. I just happen to think work is not the time or place to talk about it.”
I chuckle. “Of course, little miss goody two shoes would not think this is the best time to talk about it. But you gave me an opening, so I took it, being that I gave you space all day today.” That statement gets a rise out of her. I’m taking light jabs just to get her engaged in this conversation. Engaged in us without getting her too mad. But I miscalculated because she gets up, packing her stuff up faster. FUCK... “So, you're just going to leave?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. What does it look like I'm doing?”
“It wasn’t a stupid question, just a rhetorical one. Surely you know the difference. You’re running. That's all you seem to do. I just thought that maybe since you decided to come back home, you’d stop.”
“What does that even mean, Chance? You think because I choose not to play this little game you’re playing or agree to be on your weekly rotation of free pussy that I’m running? Get over yourself.” She’s beyond mad now, dropping the p-word… at work no less. The way her chest is rising and falling right now, I can’t help but imagine. It’s times like this that I wish she had on that sexy little button up she’d worn on her first day of work. But I set aside that thought. I gotta get serious and make my intentions known. I may seem cool and collected right now, but I’m currently up and moving to guard the office door with my life.
“Free sex? You think I’m using you for free sex? Do you know Dane told me the other day that I was obsessed with you?” I say, just putting it all out there. I could also mention that I didn’t need her for free sex. That I had gotten plenty of that without her. But that would be in poor taste and definitely a bad idea.
“Yes, I’m sure he did. Ever since I’ve known you, you've been nothing but obsessed with making me miserable and I’ve done nothing to you but try to fit in. The only thing that I could think about for most of my childhood was what did I ever do to you and how could I fix it.” Here we go with this.
“I was a stupid adolescent boy Lex, who had just lost his mother. Then your grandmother and you show up. I know now that it was not your aim, but it felt like you showed up and stole away whatever attention from my family I had left. I was struggling academically and personally, and it seemed like your presence did nothing but highlight my shortcomings. Then one day something changed and things that I used to do to get my dad’s attention I did to get your attention but by that time I’m sure you hated me with a passion. You started giving me just as worse as I gave you and don’t you deny it, with that ‘what did I ever do to you’ sob story.” My confession has seemed to give her pause. She looks even more uncomfortable than when I brought up our sex.
“What do you want from me, Chance?” She asks, even toned and deceptively calm. Here comes my typical and cliché, yet true response.
“Everything.”
“Everything? What does that even mean for you? This is so messed up, you know that right. You hate me, you just admitted it for God’s sake. I just left a relationship with an abusive womanizer I’m not about to trade up for a cheating womanizer.” That thought makes me frown.
