Chapter Three

Sandy

"I can't believe I lost the bet."

"Me either. I was so sure she would be gone by the second day."

I turn away from the printer to find two girls from the billing department standing behind me, gossiping, and their smiles quickly drop when they notice me watching them. I flash them a smile, but they quickly hurry off, and I am left staring at their backs.

Wait, do they hate me?

Why else would they run off suddenly at my sight? I've never experienced workplace bullying…. Is this what is happening?

"I can see your mind running a mile a second," someone says, sliding up next to me. I look up to find Martha and a blonde girl I recognize as another legal assistant who works for a different lawyer.

"What do you mean?" I ask, hugging the papers I just printed defensively to my chest. Mr. Hile—whom I secretly call him Wilson in my head—has a printer in his office, but I didn't want to bother him, so I opted for this one.

"Those girls that ran off," Martha says, nodding at the women who just fled the room. "They were talking about you."

"Huh?"

"You've probably heard about what happened to Mr. Hile's last assistant."

I shake my head. "I didn't ask."

"She ran out of the office sobbing, and we never heard from her again," The blonde girl says, earning a glare from Martha, but that doesn't stop her. "The one before that only lasted a day before he stomped out of the building, cursing Mr. Hile's name under his breath."

I gasp, bringing my hand to my mouth, but a part of me is excited to finally be included in the office gossip. "Why do you think that happened?"

The two ladies look up at me in confusion. "You are joking, right?" the blonde girl asks, and I shake my head.

"No, I'm not. Did they come across a difficult client?"

"A difficult client?" she sputters, turning to Martha in disbelief. "Is she kidding?"

It feels like I am missing something but have no idea what the heck it is. "I think she's being serious, Patty," Martha says, but even she is staring at me like I've grown a second head, and when she speaks, her voice is soft and warm, motherly. "Sandy, how is it working under Mr. Hile?"

"He is nice," I tell her. "I mean, sometimes he can be a grump when he doesn't want to be bothered, but so far, I like working for him."

It seems as though the people around us are listening as the room falls silent when I am done. "D-did she call Mr. Hile… nice?" Patty asks, leaning against the printer and staring at me in disbelief. "That man is a monster. He is the devil incarnate."

"Careful…" Martha warns.

"No, do you remember the time my boss asked me to deliver a case file to his office? I made a tiny error in the report, and he tore me a new one. His exact words were ‘I don't welcome incompetence in my workspace; I don't know why your boss hasn't fired you yet,' all because I made one small error."

Well, that doesn't sound like Wilson at all, but I don't say that. Something tells me calling him nice might not be welcome in the sea of coworkers nodding and sympathizing with Patty's story.

Someone else chimes in with a horror story about my boss, and then another, and soon, the words from those other girls who ran away begin to make much more sense, so I turn to Martha. "Is there really a bet about how long I will be here before I get fired?"

It's Patty who answers me. "Mr. Hile doesn't fire people. He never lets you stick around long enough for you to make a mistake that will force him to fire you. He'll just show his awful personality and send you running off on your own."

It feels like they are talking about a completely different person. Wilson is demanding, sure, but so are all the other people I have worked for. I interpret the workload as him trusting me to do my job well, and isn't that why I came here anyway? Even so, I don't downplay anyone's experience and choose to remain silent.

A bet!

I shake off the thought as I turn to head back to my workstation. It's almost time to clock out, but I am not done with my work so I plan to stay a little longer. I could take work home, but I am not too excited to head back to the studio apartment I am renting. It doesn't feel like home quite yet, and I would much rather work here instead of carrying all these files back home with me.

I bury myself in work and don't look up until my phone buzzes. I tap the screen, startled to find it's a few minutes past seven. I sit up quickly, surprised I have been here that long, but one look at Wilson's door and the light coming from under it tells me I am not the only one working late tonight.

I need to head home so I am not too tired for tomorrow's meeting. Wilson mentioned he would be meeting one of his biggest clients, and I assume as his assistant, he wants me to come along. I am equally excited and nervous because truly, a criminal defense lawyer's biggest client must be a scary person.

I should clock out and go home. Well, I should have done so three hours ago.

I shut down the computer and pack my things into my bag, ready to leave, but before I do that, I find my eyes shifting back to the light under his door. It's madness to worry about the man, I know. I haven't known him for a full week, and yet, a part of me worries that he's not taking care of himself.

Has he eaten?

Surely the least I can do for him is order his dinner before leaving, right?

That's not weird. I get the man his coffee every morning, so it wouldn't be out of left field if I ordered his dinner. I grab my phone, ready to place an order when I realize I don't know what my boss likes.

I should probably ask him. I bite my lip and stare at his door. Before the conversation this afternoon, I wasn't wary of my boss, but now, after everything I've heard about him from the others…

Stop it, Sandy. He has given you no reason to be scared of him.

I walk to his door and knock, turning the knob when he doesn't respond. I walk in and close the door behind me, turning to face my boss, but I stop dead in my tracks. Wilson is seated behind his massive desk, leaning back against in his leather chair with his eyes shut, and no, he is not asleep.

He looks…tired. His always perfectly combed back hair is mussed a little, and there are stress lines around his eyes. His hard expression seems stripped down, and watching him like this almost feels invasive, but before I can sneak back out, his voice stops me.

"What is it, Miss Beck?" His eyes are still closed, which makes me wonder how he knows it's me.

"I…I'm clocking out. I was wondering if I could order dinner for you."

"That's not part of your job description."

Well, someone is in a mood. "I like to think part of my job is making sure you're taken care of," I say boldly, and that has him opening his cobalt eyes, and when they meet mine, I visibly shudder. They have the same effect they did the first time I met the man but not quite. In recent days, his gaze has been doing things to me.

Weird thing to my body.

There are moments where I feel a little weak in the knees or short of breath, but the achy feeling between my legs is what confuses me the most. With his eyes locked on mine, the feeling is back, and I have to shuffle my legs in an attempt to seek relief but find none.

"What do you mean, ‘taken care of?'"

Uh, what the hell is he talking about? Oh, right.

"Well, sir, it could be argued that taking care of your health would be in my best interest. I can't work if I don't have a boss, now, can I?"

Wilson raises a brow at me, as if he can't figure me out, which is a better reaction than I was expecting. He simply shakes his head and leans back against the leather chair. "You should head home, Miss Beck."

Right, this is my cue to leave. I have done my best, and now, my conscience can be clear.

And yet, I don't leave. I stand rooted to the floor, staring at my feet, when really, I should be making my way out of the office. He's given me an out. I should take it, but something about seeing the hardened man drop the blank mask I was so convinced was his actual face bothers me for some reason.

"Miss Beck?"

"Sir?" My gaze shoots up to find those icy blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"You are still here."

I don't know why I can't make myself leave and… Is that a warning in his tone? Christ, I don't know what it was I caught in his voice just now, but whatever it was sends excitement rocking my chest.

"I…um…"

"You should leave."

This time, I his voice is hard, and the ice in his blue eyes has been replaced with heat. Even the threat carried in his voice isn't enough to unstick my feet from the floor. I'm not scared of him, but...maybe I should be.

He looks so big and menacing seated behind the massive desk, but it's nothing compared to the power he gives off when he rises to his feet. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt are folded neatly at his forearms, and my eyes trail those massive arms and up to his broad shoulders.

Good Lord, he is big, and with his muscles pushing at the seams of his form-fitting clothes, I can only imagine how he looks with the shirt stripped off. My gaze drops to his the pronounced bulge at his zipper, and I quickly look away when I realize where my eyes have wandered to, heat climbing up my cheeks.

"Do you enjoy it?" Wilson asks, his voice way closer than it was earlier, so I look up to find him standing only two steps away from me, his jaw clenched and hands tucked in his pockets. "Do you enjoy testing my limits to see just how far I'll let you go?"

I blink at him in confusion. "Sir?"

He takes a step forward, and then another until he is so close I can smell his expensive aftershave. Closer than he and I have been before, and oh…there is that achy feeling between my legs once more. Insistent this time.

"What do you think you are doing, Sandy?" he says, tracing those blue eyes over my breasts, and I watch with fascination as his jaw hardens, the hard mask slowly slipping. His face shows more emotion in this moment than he has in the few days I have been working here and…

I want more.

Something inside of me wants to see behind this man's hard, impenetrable shell. I wonder if he'll show me.

"Sandy!"

"S-Sir?"

"I asked you a question." Right. He did. What was it again? "What do you think you are doing, showing up at my office after hours when there is no one else around?"

"I came in to ask if you wanted me to order you dinner—"

"Which I declined," he grinds out, grabbing my chin and forcing my eyes to remain locked on his. "Why did you stay?"

I don't know . But that's not true. I know perfectly well why I stayed.

It's because I am attracted to my boss. Of all the unfortunate things that could happen to me, I find this stone-faced man hot, and… I want him.

I want him more than I have ever wanted anyone else in my life, and those cold blue eyes… I want them on me. I wish I could pretend that Wilson doesn't have that kind of effect on me, but standing this close to me with his delicious masculine scent filling my nose, I can't help my desire.

I am want my boss. Desperately.