Chapter Five

Sandy

Last night, I kissed my boss.

Well, I did more than just kiss the man, but…semantics. The bottom line is that I gave into my attraction to the man, and things went a little further than I ever expected they would, and it feels like a dream.

Everything that happened in that office feels like a fever dream.

Did I really have sex with my boss and then make him buy me a pizza? The night is a little foggy because the man did in fact send my brain into overdrive, but I get flashes and memories of sitting in his office as I wolfed down pizza slices while staring dreamily into the air.

Kill. Me. Now.

I would consider the events of last night just a really weird dream except I didn't catch a wink of sleep when I got home. I spent the entire night fantasizing about Wilson before reality snapped into me some time around dawn.

I am officially out of my mind.

Why the hell did I think sleeping with my boss was a good idea? How am I going to face him now that I know what his lips taste like or what they feel like between my legs. Wow, that was one skillful tongue, and the memories of it are enough to have my body heating all over.

"Are you going to stand here all day?" calls a voice from behind me, and I whirl around to find Martha staring at me, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Does she know?

Oh my God, what if she knows what happened last night in Wilson's office? Is it written all over my face, the truth about Wilson coming all over my stomach and sex, painting me with his come?

"Uh… I… Hmm."

"Don't tell me," Martha says with a gasp, cupping her mouth in horror. "It happened, didn't it? I knew it would."

She knows.

My cheeks flare, and I look away from the judgment in her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"What did he do to finally make you quit?" she asks, and her words don't immediately register.

"Quit? What are you talking about?"

"You want to quit, don't you?" Her brows draw in confusion. "Why else are you standing out here looking as if you are scared to walk in."

Oh.

Oh, right.

She doesn't know. Of course, no one but Wilson and I know about what happened last night. There is no need to be paranoid about it.

I chuckle, the sound a little dry, but that could be because I haven't had my daily dose of caffeine. "I'm not going to quit, Martha. I like working for Mr. Hile."

"That's a relief," she sighs. "I don't want to even think about looking for a replacement for you if you decide to quit."

Replacement . It goes without saying that someone would fill my spot if I were to quit, but for some reason, that doesn't sit right with me. Someone else working for Wilson, bringing him his coffee and pastries, smiling at him, or lying across his desk as he kisses every inch of someone else's body.

I am someone else's replacement, and my spot could easily be occupied by another girl. Does that mean Wilson was involved with his previous assistant too? Was she…experienced? Did he like her better than me?

Christ, I have so many questions stemming from my insecurities, but I can't exactly voice them to Martha in case I raise suspicion, so I decide to push them down.

"We should probably head in," Martha says, patting my shoulder and walking in. I follow behind her, my thoughts on my boss as I make my way up the stairs toward Wilson's office. I drop my things at my desk and walk to his door.

I wonder how I should play it. Pretend that last night never happened, or sit down and talk to him about it? Whatever else, I need to walk in there and hand the man his coffee.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock softly at the door and give it a solid five seconds before walking in, and one look at the man seated behind his massive desk, and I lose my train of thought. It never ceases to amaze me how much power and authority this man can exude even when he's not doing much. He's just seated there, flipping through a file I don't recognize.

Wilson is dressed in a jet-black shirt that accentuates his chiseled features. As usual, his light brown hair is combed back, every hair held in place, and I am reminded once again of last night when his hair was a mess from my own fingers running through it.

I stand there, just staring at the man and trying to ignore the dull throb between my legs. This office brings back memories of last night, and a part of me almost expects him to tell me to strip once more.

Would I do it?

Maybe. If he ordered me to. I never imagined I'd love surrendering to a man the way that I do my boss.

"Sir," I call out, my voice coming out breathy, and I almost regret doing so as his eyes shoot to mine, those icy blues making it hard for me to walk right, and I almost trip on my way to him. "Your breakfast. Miss Annie packed English muffins for you this time."

The man simply nods, so I place everything on the table and turn around to leave, fighting to hide my disappointment at his dismissal, but then he calls out to me. I don't realize how much I miss the sound of my first name on his lips until he speaks. "Miss Beck?"

I turn back around to face him, quickly dropping my eyes when it proves too hard to maintain contact, except, well, my eyes land on his desk. The same spot I was in last night, writhing helplessly as he brought me to orgasm.

"About what happened last night…" My eyes shoot to his. Are we really going to talk about it? "I believe I can trust you to be discreet about it, correct?"

I stare at the man, blinking in rapid succession at his words. I mean, I wasn't going to talk about it with anyone, but why does his request leave a bitter taste in my mouth? "I'll keep it to myself," I say, suddenly anxious to leave his office.

"Good, we don't need another lawsuit on our hands."

Another lawsuit?

Did he… I must've heard him wrong. There is no way he said that. Has he done this before with some other girl? Did she take him to court, and is that what he is afraid I'm going to do?

"Right," I mutter. "Excuse me."

This time, I don't wait for his condescending nod before leaving. Okay, maybe it's not meant to be condescending, but at the moment, it feels that way. I want so badly to slam his door on my way out, but I remind myself I am mature and need to act like a professional.

"You weren't being professional when you had his tongue in your mouth," snarks a voice at the back of my mind, but I block it out. Or at least I try to.

My sour mood stays for the rest of the day, and I try to avoid Wilson as much as I can. There is the meeting looming over my head though, and as the time draws nearer, I consider pretending to be sick so I can avoid going anywhere with Wilson.

I wouldn't want the man to feel threatened by the looming thought of a possible lawsuit. Jesus Christ, what would I even sue him for? Sure, I know sexual relationships are banned at the firm, and it was stipulated in the contract that I signed, but exposing this relationship would tarnish my reputation more than it would his.

Don't think about it, Sandy. Don't let it bother you!

Easier said than done. It's all I think about, and when the clock strikes three, I want to bury my face in my hands and just will myself into oblivion, but Wilson steps out of his office with his briefcase in hand, and my goddamn heart starts beating so hard at the sight of him.

Snap out of it, Sandy.

I quickly stand and begin to gather my things, prepared to accompany him to his meeting.

"What are you doing?" Wilson snaps, shocking me into freezing. I don't understand the question. It's obvious what I'm doing. This is hardly the first time in the last week that I've gone with my boss to take notes during an important meeting.

"I-I'm just getting my bag and notepad. I'll only be a second."

"You aren't going. I'll be fine on my own this time. But we have another meeting over lunch that you'll accompany me to. I'll be back to get you at noon."

"Wouldn't it be easier if I come with you now, so you don't have to return for me?" I ask, confused. Does he not want me to come with him because of last night? But that doesn't make sense if he wants me at the lunch meeting. Who is he meeting now? Is it not actually a client? Could he be meeting a woman? A sick feeling settles into my stomach at the thought.

Wilson stops abruptly in front of my desk and leans into my space, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts.

"No. It wouldn't be easier. I'll be meeting with Vlad Andreyev at his club to discuss his latest assault charges. I realize you aren't from around here, so allow me to clue you in. He's the head of the local organized crime family and about as dangerous as it gets. Everyone in town knows that, aside from his baby sister, there is no one Vladimir Andreyev won't step on to get what he wants. Andreyev is not a man I want in the same room as you. Ever. Do you understand?"

I'm shocked by the intensity of his voice, then I gasp when I meet his eyes and see something there I never imagined I would—fear. Whoever this Andreyev man is, he must be absolutely terrifying for a man like Wilson Hile to be so concerned. I can hardly argue with that, now can I?

"Yes. I understand. I-I'll see you at noon."

Wilson looks at me for a tense moment, then nods. "Good girl."

Without another word, he walks out, oblivious to the effect those two words have on me. Good girl . The words, said in his deep voice, send sparks shooting through my body and my pulse racing.

God, I need to put some professional distance between me and this man. I'll need every moment that he's away to build up my walls, or Wilson Hile will leave me with nothing but a broken heart.

***

No one else joins us on the drive to our lunch meeting with a client whose identity I am yet to learn. It isn't unusual for Wilson to bring along a junior associate to meetings like this. For all his cold looks and harsh demeanor, he never misses an opportunity to help the younger attorneys at the firm get more experience.

While he'd been at his earlier meeting, I'd given my heart a stern talking-to. I will not fall for this man. I will not put myself in a position to have my heart broken or lose the job that I've worked so hard for. I'm determined to remain professional during this meeting, whoever it's with.

As we pull into a parking spot near the center of town, I gaze out the window, taking in the building in front of us. Like most of the small downtown area, the building is old and constructed with red brick. The windows lining the front are shadowed by a maroon awning, and I can just make out a few of the tables inside. The restaurant looks surprisingly luxurious, and the decor suggests it serves high-end Italian food.

"What is this place?" I ask, quickly forgetting that I am supposed to act indifferent to the man.

"Lorenzo's," he responds curtly, and I don't question him further.

I haven't explored the town much, and I never would have expected to see such luxury in Valor Springs, but then again, maybe this is exactly where I should have expected to see it. I know there is a mom-and-pop style diner at the other end of Main Street. This must be the town's fine dining option.

"Mr. Hile," the hostess says in greeting as we walk inside. Her eyes linger a little too long on my boss, and I have to force myself not to glare at her. Without another word, she guides us through the dimly lit interior. The air is heavy with the delicious scents of pasta and fresh bread, and the soft glow doesn't provide enough light to make out the faces of the patrons already seated.

Hushed conversations fill the space as low music plays in the background, creating quite an intimate atmosphere. As beautiful as Lorenzo's is, it doesn't make much sense as a place for meeting a client.

Wilson puts a hand at the small of my back to guide me after the hostess. Finally, we reach a secluded table in the back corner where a man and woman are already waiting.

"Wilson. About time," the man grumbles. "And you brought a guest."

"Raymond," Wilson says, a clear warning in his voice, and I don't know what I expected from the other man, but it's not for him to break into laughter. Well, laughter is a stretch. The sound that comes out of him is more like a clap of thunder, and it scares me a little.

"You've never brought anyone to meet me. You can't blame me for teasing you a little."

Ignoring him, Wilson turns to the woman and smiles slightly. "Penny. I'd ask how you're doing, but with this brute, I'm sure I already know."

The woman—Penny—laughs good naturedly. It's a musical sound, and I'm caught for a moment, admiring her porcelain skin and vibrant green eyes. I'm brought back to the present by the pressure of Wilson's hand at my back, urging me to take a seat.

"This is Sandy, my new assistant."

"Ah, yes! A pleasure to meet you, Sandy. Tell me, does my brother offer you combat pay? A bonus for pain and suffering, maybe?" Ray asks.

I jolt at his words and look up at him quickly. Brother? This is Wilson's brother ? Now that I'm looking more closely, I can see the resemblance. They both have large, muscular frames and intense blue eyes, though Ray's are warm where Wilson's are pure ice.

Before I can think of a response, Penny interjects, "Be nice, Ray. We invited your brother to lunch to thank him for helping me break ties with my family, after all." To me, she extends a delicate hand and adds, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Sandy."

I smile and shake her hand lightly. "Pleased to meet you, too. Thank you for allowing me to tag along to lunch." I shoot a look at Wilson as I say this. How could he not tell me I'd be meeting his family? This is hardly the working lunch he'd implied. My leg starts to bounce under the table, the only available outlet for my sudden nerves.

The waitress arrives and takes our orders before disappearing again.

"Have you heard any more from your stepfather?" Wilson asks Penny. She shakes her head in response.

"Not a word, thanks to you. My mother has reached out. She said she's going to hire a divorce attorney."

Wilson nods along as she speaks. "Good. I'll send you a few names of attorneys I recommend."

"Thank you. And thank you for taking time out of your day to have lunch with us. We really do appreciate everything you did," Penny says, shooting a significant look at Ray. He's quiet at first, then jolts slightly with a grunt, and I suspect Penny has smacked his leg under the table.

"Yeah, yeah. We appreciate your help and all that. How are things at the firm?" Ray asks.

That starts a long conversation, during which I learn a good deal more about my boss. He isn't only a senior associate, but also the heir apparent once his father, the elder Mr. Hile, decides to retire. I haven't met Wilson's father yet as he and his wife have been on an extended European cruise to celebrate their anniversary.

Conversation is interrupted by the appearance of the waitress delivering our meals, then resumes as if there'd never been a pause. As Wilson and Ray move on to talking about Ray's auto repair shop, Penny pulls me into a conversation across the table.

"How are you settling in? Ray said you moved quite a distance to come to Valor Springs. Do you like it so far?"

At her question, Ray and Wilson pause their own conversation, as if they are also interested in my response.

"I like it," I say, my voice shakier than I'd like. I'm not usually so nervous around new people, but Ray and Penny aren't just anyone. They're Wilson's family . "I was looking for a change, and Mr. Hile offered me an excellent opportunity. I haven't seen much of Valor Springs yet, but I love what I've seen so far."

My eyes swing to Wilson's when I feel a hand caress my thigh. But his eyes are focused on Ray and Penny as his long fingers caress the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. I bite back a whimper when his fingers climb under my skirt, tugging it up as he does so.

"Oh, have you been to Miss Annie's bakery yet? You'll love the cinnamon rolls!" Penny says excitedly.

What is she talking about? Cinnamon rolls? We're at an Italian restaurant. I can't focus on what she's saying with Wilson's hand causing a storm of lust in my body, his fingers leaving behind a trail of heat. I'm suddenly thankful for the dim lighting that helps to hide my expression.

"Miss Annie's cinnamon rolls are Penny's favorite," Ray says with a heated look at his girlfriend. I can tell there is a story there, but I can't focus long enough to ask.

Oh ! I bury my teeth in my lower lip when Wilson's finger grazes my sex over my panties. I part my legs wider to accommodate his hand, and it takes everything in me to not make a sound.

"Sandy picks up breakfast and coffee from Annie's almost every morning. I've never eaten so many pastries in my life as I have this last week," Wilson says, his deep voice a little bit raspy. Is he as affected as I am?

I should be contributing to the conversation, I know it, but for the life of me, I can't focus. All coherent thought falls away when his middle finger moves over my sensitive nub, and I almost jerk in my chair when he presses against it with his knuckle.

God.

This is torture. To not be able to make a sound as the man teases my sex under the table, and he's not even subtle about it. He doesn't care that I could cry out in front of his brother and his girlfriend, let alone that we are in a restaurant.

Christ, I should be embarrassed, but I can't bring myself to make him stop. All it would take is grabbing his wrist, and I know he'd get the message. But…I don't actually want him to stop, so I bite hard on my lip, not enough to tear skin but to curb my cries. He strokes my aching center with the pad of a finger, and I quickly take a sip of water to try and cool my heated body. As I do, I catch Penny's eye, and I am almost certain she knows what's happening. I can't bring myself to care.

Wilson strokes my clit faster, causing my panties to grow wetter with every caress. He slides his finger under my panties and between my feminine lips where he uses his middle finger to gather moisture onto his thick digit. I jerk in the chair, rattling the table, when I feel him press his finger inside of me. He seems careful as he does so, which makes me question if he knows.

Surely not.

That would be so embarrassing if my boss knew I was a virgin.

"More embarrassing than getting fingered in front of your boss's brother?" mocks a voice at the back of my mind, but I don't get to think much more about it as his finger goes back to caressing me with slow, teasing strokes.

Why is he doing this to me?

And here of all places.

"Are you headed back to the shop after this?" Wilson's voice cuts through my lust-filled fog, and my eyes shoot up when I realize I have missed everything that was said since he started touching me. I even missed the server clearing our plates. How can he focus with his hand moving so feverishly under my skirt?

"No. Penny and I are taking the rest of the day off. We're going to take the bike out for a ride, maybe find a secluded spot to relax for bit and enjoy the sunshine," Ray says, and there's an undercurrent to his words. Based on Penny's flushing cheeks, I can guess what it is.

"So, Sandy, what do you think about the other attorneys at the firm?" Ray asks with a sly grin aimed at his brother. "Not all of them are as cold as my brother here. Have you met anyone else you'd want to work with?" He leans toward me as if he's going to tell me a secret, but he doesn't lower his voice. "If Wilson is too much of a tyrant for you, I'll put in a good word with our dad and suggest he assign you to someone else."

"She's my assistant. I hired her, not Dad. You're just trying to win that stupid bet," Wilson says with a growl, still rubbing his finger over my clit, and I have to bite harder on my lip to stop a sob from breaking out at the effect his possessiveness has on my body. My sex grows wetter by the second, and I feel myself draw closer to a climax.

Our waiter appears with the check, effectively distracting Ray as he looks it over and pulls out his wallet. After a few more strokes, I've reached my breaking point and clench my teeth hard to bite back a cry as my toes curl with pleasure and my back arches slightly from the pressure that shoots through me. His thick digit strums my sensitive sex, drawing out my orgasm until I can't take it anymore. My thighs lock around his hand, and the chair scrapes as I push away from him.

The sound draws attention to me, and I am again thankful for the dim lighting as it's able to hide my reddened cheeks. "Sorry," I choke out.

Ray eyes me curiously for a moment, but Penny jumps in to distract him with a question about dessert. I already liked the girl, but I adore her now, even if I am embarrassed that she clearly knew what was happening under the table.

"We'll skip dessert. We have to get back to the office," Wilson says without missing a beat. His hand stays locked between my legs until the spasms have died down and I let him go. He straightens my skirt as he thanks his brother and Penny for lunch and says his goodbyes.

I'm still in a daze as we get back in the car, with no idea what I said to Penny and Ray as we were leaving. It must not have been too awkward though, since Penny made sure to tell Wilson to give me her number so we can get together again.

It's not until we're in the car that I realize I'd been far too distracted to stay nervous about meeting my boss's brother and his girlfriend, and despite Wilson's wandering hands, I'd enjoyed talking with them—well, as much as I could focus on the conversation without being too obvious about what my boss was doing to me. It dawns on me that Wilson must have realized I was nervous.

"You did that on purpose," I accuse him.

He doesn't even bother to deny purposely distracting me. "There was no reason to be nervous, and you wouldn't have calmed down without my…intervention."

How does this man know me so well after such a short time?

"Then you shouldn't have brought me. This wasn't a client lunch; you didn't need me there."

He turns to look at me, those icy blue eyes piercing into me as they always do. "My brother and Penny are clients. And Penny is new in town too, she needs a friend so she isn't spending all of her time with my boorish baby brother. Besides, if you hadn't joined me, you wouldn't have gotten an orgasm out of it, now would you?"

I glare at my boss, the manipulative asshole. Do I regret getting fingered by my boss at a restaurant? No. I liked it. Perhaps a little too much, but that doesn't mean I appreciate him toying with me like that. He was the one who suggested we forget about what happened between us, after all. He is the one afraid of another lawsuit.

I turn away from him and stare at the road ahead. I don't know what to make of his hot-and-cold attitude. No matter how much I like Wilson and the feel of his hands and lips on me, I am not going to let him touch me again.

We are done playing around. I am done playing around.