Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Poppy

"Good morning, Levi. How are you doing?" I step off the elevator, surprised to see Levi, our receptionist, already at his desk.

I'm scheduled to start work at 8:30, yet here I am, twenty minutes early. I plan to organize a few things before meeting Julian for his PT appointment. There's also a meeting with one of the manufacturers who wants to renegotiate our license deal. The details are on a post-it note left by Debbie. That's precisely why I've arrived early: to clarify today's agenda and digitize Julian's schedule. It's utter madness that Debbie has kept us in the dark ages with post-it notes.

"I'm doing good; how are you?" Levi replies.

I feel as excited as an elf who has just been told it's time to start making Christmas toys.

"I'm great, thanks. Just wanted to drop off my bag before I have to meet Jul..." I clear my throat, "I mean Mr. Sterling, for our first meeting."

"Oh," Levi grins and reaches for a coffee cup. "The boss already came by. He dropped off coffee and breakfast for us. I put yours on your desk. I hope you don't mind."

"Oh... not at all," I say with a smile.

He got us breakfast?

Curiosity gets the better of me as I walk past the reception desk, and I ask, "Does Mr. Sterling do this often, Levi?"

"No," Levi replies, sipping his coffee, steam still billowing from the lid. "But I wish he would. Being on a college budget means Ramen Noodles are my usual breakfast, lunch, and dinner." He chuckles, then takes the last bite of his muffin.

I hurry to my desk, where a large hot coffee and a pastry bag are waiting.

Is this because of me?

I bring the cup to my lips and take a sip, the aroma of pumpkin filling my senses. Julian chose pumpkin-flavored coffee for me! A wave of warmth spreads through me as I reach for the pastry bag, pulling out a dark orange muffin adorned with cream cheese and walnuts. Biting into it, the familiar taste of pumpkin confirms my thoughts.

Julian Sterling, where have you been all my life?

***

I'm learning that life is unconventional, not just my past but also my present. Secretly dating my boss and meeting with him while he's in a physical therapy workout is very unconventional, but I'm not complaining.

I spot Julian and another man, who must be his physical therapist. They're in the weight section of the gym, working on the chest press. Inhaling deeply, I get a lungful of the gym's musky scent, a mixture of sweat and testosterone. I don't usually like working out in gyms, but I can see the benefit. Nothing is hotter than men exerting themselves, their muscles working under the strain.

They should sell tickets for this show. I'd buy one. It'd likely be the only way I'd enter a gym.

Case in point: Julian is wearing shorts showcasing his muscled thighs and calves, and his arms glisten with sweat.

"Julian, you're not listening to me!" The therapist hisses.

What's going on?

My feet slow as I remove my lust-colored glasses and take in the reality. The tension in the gym is palpable, like a thick fog.

Julian's jaw is clenched, and his face is etched with anger. He's arguing with his therapist, who looks ready to pull his hair out. I glance around, hoping to see other coworkers, mainly because I feel like an intruder.

With my luck, there is no one else here yet. Aren't people into cardio?

Why is it just Julian, the therapist, and me?

I quickly grab my phone and text Harper.

She replies right away, as usual.

I stifle my giggle.

Daring to move from the entrance door, I tiptoe closer to them.

"Okay, I see how it's going to be. Ignore me, then. Keep going, tough guy. Push because that's what you're used to doing. Rehab doesn't work the same way, Julian. If you overdo it and push, you will end up back in surgery," the therapist snaps.

Surgery?

I don't like the sound of that, but I try to remain professional and mind my own business.

I glance at my watch. I'm five minutes early. Maybe I should turn around and let them hash this out.

But what if they see me leaving? That's even odder.

I slow my steps, my eyes ping-ponging around. Where can I hide? There, the leg press machine. I scurry behind it.

Julian keeps doing chest presses, grunting each time the weights are pushed up. That sound goes right to my sex. A bead of sweat falls down the side of his face. I shamelessly look all over his body, playing a game of connect the dots. Those biceps, his hard chest, the way his thick thighs are spread wide over the bench.

Harper is right… fuck me sideways.

"I feel fine," Julian grunts, but the strain in his neck says otherwise.

I inch lower, peering through the weighted bars of the machine. Officially, it's a new low for me, but my ovaries are happy, so there's that.

The guy next door and the CEO have alter egos. My neighbor Julian listens; he's the only guy I've met that I feel listens to what I say. However, Mr. Sterling, the CEO, doesn't give a fuck. What he wants, he gets, much to the therapist's dismay.

"I'm paying you to push me to my limits so I can use my arm again, not to do fucking ten chest presses the entire workout. It's a waste of time. If I can do more, then I will," Julian snaps, his voice laced with frustration and anger.

"I get it. You don't like seeing my face, but guess what? You will see me a lot longer than planned if you don't listen. You'll end up back at square one. Unlike the other two therapists who quit, I'm not quitting, Julian; you're stuck with me, so get used to it." He jerks his chin in defiance.

"What are you doing?" a voice whispers directly in my ear. My scream screeches across the entire gym, and I can feel every eye on me.

I turn to see Kent smiling down at me.

"Kent, what are you doing?" Julian shouts.

"What are we doing?" Kent sarcastically whispers to me.

My hand flies to my racing chest. "You're trying to kill me," I bite back as I step out from my not-so-hidden perch.

"Hi," I say to Julian, who lowers the weights and sits up.

Kill me now!

"I didn't want to interrupt, so I was waiting for you to finish," I glare back at Kent.

"Sure you were," Kent elbows me and chuckles.

I walk closer to Julian, but Kent stays in step with me.

"I was looking for you, Pumpkin," Kent says with cheer.

"Don't call her that," Julian snaps. Even from this distance, I can feel his possession for me.

"Oh," Kent glances at me and winks. "Touchy, isn't he?" He leans closer and whispers in my ear, "Have you two been touchy?"

I don't have to worry about myself slipping up; Kent will give our secret away easily.

I eye Julian with worry, and from the ‘I'll fucking kill him' look, he flashes Kent; I know Julian understands my fear.

"Pumpkin, I wanted to ask you for Harper's number," Kent says.

I narrow my eyes. "Harper doesn't give her number out."

"Oh, come on."

"Kent, we have a meeting; get out," Julian grumbles as he sips his water bottle.

"And we're in the middle of my session," the therapist snaps back.

I mouth 'sorry' to the therapist and awkwardly perch on the second bench press machine. Avoiding Kent, I open my laptop and connect to the Zoom meeting.

For the next forty-five minutes, we move around the gym. I try my hardest to take notes as Julian listens and sometimes has to speak his input. It's hard to scribble a letter when the man I'm secretly dating flexes his muscles in front of me.

I've got a private Zoom meeting going on inside my head with my imagination, just dreaming about seeing his muscles flex when he's over me.

"Are you going to be here every session?" the therapist asks me after the meeting.

Julian glares at him and flexes his fingers.

"Um," I clear my throat. "If there is a meeting, I guess so."

Why is he asking me?

"Well, plan a meeting every session then. Since you arrived, he actually listens to me."

I smile and glance at Julian, who is scowling. He raises his towel and wipes the sweat off his forehead.

"Here is his paper with my workout plan until our next session. Since he won't listen to me, hopefully, he will listen to you. Whip him into shape for me," the therapist jokes as he hands me the paper. I can practically hear Julian growl as the therapist leaves the gym.

I stand and cross my arms. "You're a bad patient. That's a red flag, Mr. Sterling," I flirtatiously mock.

"I like to be in control," his eyes darken with lust as he stands from the weight machine. His shadow covers me as his eyes look me up and down.

My knees threaten to give. "We're at work," I whisper.

He slowly grins. "Technically, we're in the gym."

I shake my head. "At work," I correct him. There's that pull again, tugging us both together.

"Fuck Friday. Come over for dinner tonight. I'll cook," he proposes in a hushed whisper.

I glance around again, but it's still just us.

"I won't take risks. We're alone." Julian admits, "And I'll talk to Kent."

I uncross my arms and grab my laptop and notes. "I can't tonight. I have to go furniture shopping," I admit. Dammit, I'm going to stick to my guns too. I need to focus on my apartment, not just my lust for my boss.

He exhales and grabs his towel, casually throwing it over his shoulder. "That's okay," he steps closer, his breath warm on my cheek, "You're worth the wait, Pumpkin. Friday it is."

Friday seems like worlds away.

I nod, taking in the faint scent of his aftershave mixed with the gym's musk.

"Thank you for the coffee and muffin," I say, my voice a soft murmur. My eyes linger on him, tracing the outline of his figure. For a brief minute, we remain silent, the air charged with an electric chemistry that pulsates, a tangible current that threatens the very foundations of our careers.

He grins, a spark lighting up his eyes, reflecting the gym's fluorescent lights. "I'll see you for our 11:00 meeting with marketing," his voice rumbles, low and resonant.

He turns, his movements fluid like a well-practiced dance, and walks toward the locker room, leaving a trail of his unique scent in the air.

My nose perks up, and I want to follow him into that room like a hunting dog. Instead, I turn on my heels.

My phone pings when I reach my office again.

I roll my eyes and smile as I shake my head.

I text back.

She doesn't reply immediately, making me question if she feels the same magnetic pull towards a certain Sterling brother.

She text back a strange number I've never seen before.

Harper doesn't give out her number, but she does keep burner phones, which she changes monthly. If a guy is lucky enough to gain her digits, he gets a fake number.

She replies, followed by a devil emoji.

I call the number during my lunch break because I can't resist. An automated voice comes on and says, "Hello, you have reached the customer service line for StamiStrong, the world's number one erectile dysfunction drug. If this is a medical emergency, hang up and call 911."

I bust out laughing, my abs clenching so tight I can skip my ab workout for the week. I hang up and text Harper back,