3. Jess

The elderly gentleman sitting across from me looked doubtful. He started shaking his head.

We were alone at the large table in the archive reading room, so I didn't have to whisper. I leaned forward, dressed crisply in my best gray blazer paired with an elegant white blouse.

"Mr. Wilson, you have my promise that your late wife's materials will be indexed and available to researchers within three months. Most repositories would take a year. We have a generous grant we can put toward the work, and we're ready to start right away with storage materials and staff. If you choose the city library's archive, we'll prioritize it."

I held my breath while he thought it over. If our library could secure the Marybeth Wilson archive—with all of the famously reclusive author's letters, journals, and original writings—it would be huge. We'd see an increase in scholarly recognition of our holdings. Recognition meant donations. It would be a game changer.

But that wasn't why I was excited. Getting my hands on those papers wasn't about professional ambition. It was personal. I loved Marybeth Wilson's books. I loved that I worked here, at the library where she used to come read as a child.

Preparing for this Friday morning meeting had been the one thing I'd managed to focus on all week, even though my mind kept drifting to the bartender from last Saturday. I wanted to nail every detail, so I pushed all other thoughts aside. At least while I was awake.

I'd read every obituary, lined up resources, practiced my pitch, and carefully planned my outfit. The early summer weather begged for something light and casual, but I was in a formal business suit with a skirt and heels. This was too important. I couldn't mess it up.

"Your wife had fond memories of our library, didn't she?"

He nodded, his eyes a little misty. "She did. It was a safe place for her. A happy place." His shoulders hunched, and he frowned. "The university offered to name their reading room after her. But I'm not sure she would have cared…"

My mind raced. Could I offer that? Not without a huge bureaucratic nightmare. The library board and city council would both have to pass it, pay for a sign?—

"…I think Marybeth would have chosen this place."

It took me a beat to realize what he was saying. "So, you'll…?"

"I'll donate it all to you." He sat up taller, like a weight had been lifted. "If you can get it out to the public in three months, this is where it should be."

Holy shit!

Inside, I was jumping for joy. Then the reality of what I'd promised started to sink in.

I swallowed and managed a professional, grateful smile. It would take some schedule rearrangement, but I had the staff. I'd get it done.

We stood at the same time, and I extended my hand.

"Thank you for your confidence in us. We won't let you down."

He shook my hand. "Thank you, Ms. Smith. I think she would have liked you."

After I walked Mr. Wilson to the main lobby and watched him leave, I finally let out a long breath. My thoughts were going in a million different directions, and I was barely aware of my feet carrying me back to my tiny office. Legal paperwork…press release…schedule the indexing work…the bartender from Saturday night…my missing credit card…silver eyes.

Those eyes.

Even as my heart pounded faster, I stifled a yawn. I needed sleep.

For the past week, my dreams had been…intense. Gravod played a starring role. Except, it wasn't really Gravod. Not exactly.

The man in my dreams had the rough outline of Gravod's face. The same hair. But his eyes flashed silver. His skin was a deep burgundy red, from his strong shoulders to his muscular pecs and abs. And his cock…

Yeah.

Dream Gravod had a gigantic cock. The details were kind of hazy, but it was extra. These were very vivid dreams, with penetration. It was like I could feel it. Something at the base stroked my clit in the perfect way with each thrust, and inside it felt like…bumps? Ridges? Maybe both.

But that wasn't the weirdest part. At all.

I could also feel bands around me. My wrists and ankles, thighs, waist. Tight, but not too tight. Oddly warm.

And dream me wanted dream Gravod to stuff his tongue down my throat. Like, all the way down my throat. But every time his face came close to mine, his mouth opening so that I could suck that tongue down like a porn star, I woke up. Drenched and needy.

No matter what I did to ease myself—and I'd gone through some batteries—the same dream would wake me up again. Always before I could get that tongue down my throat or the orgasm I needed. Over and over throughout the night.

I was exhausted.

Wilson archive. To-do list. Focus.

The door to my office was slightly ajar, and I paused in the hall. It didn't feel right. I'd definitely closed it earlier.

I glanced across the hallway to the conference room, which was really an open workspace shared by our library technicians and volunteers. A couple of the techs—Kristen and Tony—sat in front of a laptop at one end of the long table. The rest of the work surface was occupied by neat stacks of books and papers in the process of being catalogued.

"I can't believe this," Kristen whispered. She looked up at me when I came into the room.

From their worried expressions, I knew something was off. "What happened?" I kept my voice low and walked over to them.

Tony huffed. "Kevin happened."

"Kevin?"

"Have you looked at your email?" Kristen asked.

"No. I've been busy with the Wilson acquisition." Dread settled in my stomach. "What happened?" I asked again.

Kristen shook her head. "Lydia is retiring, effective immediately. Kevin was named as interim Library Director while they do a search for her replacement."

The news hit me like a punch. Lydia was my mentor. I had no idea she was planning to leave. And Kevin was my boss now? Even if he wasn't my ex, he was objectively an egotistical bastard. The worst kind of person to be put in charge.

Shit.I'd been able to avoid him before, but now I'd have to deal with him. I wasn't going to have a choice.

Tony cleared his throat, and his gaze went to the hallway. "I think he's in your office."

I was thirty-one, a mature boss lady. I couldn't exactly start making gagging sounds. But I really, really wanted to. Kristen and Tony looked at me with pity.

"Right. I'll go talk to him then." I almost turned around before deciding the good news couldn't wait. "We got the Wilson archive, by the way. You two are going to be busy."

They were smiling when I walked out, and that brightened my mood.

I didn't pause outside the door this time. It was my office, god dammit. Sure enough, Kevin was sitting in my one guest chair, staring at his phone.

"Oh. Hi, Kevin." I rounded my desk and sat, waking up my computer and opening my email.

There it was. Staffing Announcement. I sighed and looked at him. He was still scrolling. Fuck it. I could be the goddamn adult.

"Can I help you, Kevin?"

He smirked without looking up, confirming he'd been waiting for me to bite. Like he'd just won something? What a jackass.

"Hi, Jess. One sec."

He didn't look up for another minute. Then he slowly put his phone in his shirt pocket and raised his head. He smiled. I tried my best not to glare.

"What do you need?"

"I'm sure you read the announcement."

"I did."

There was an awkward silence, during which I was sure he expected me to congratulate him. When it became obvious I wasn't going to, he shrugged.

"As Director, I'm going to be auditing each department to see where we might find some cost savings. I wanted to give you a heads up. Please don't take on any big projects until my audit is complete."

My heart rate kicked up, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Kevin knew we had grant funding to acquire new archives, like the Wilson papers. That would be a "big project." Was he really so spiteful that he'd sabotage my work?

"I have approval for several acquisitions in?—"

"As Director," he interrupted, looking at me like I was a misbehaving child, "I'll decide what archives we manage."

What the actual fuck? Was he threatening me?

"Interim Director," I said through gritted teeth.

He laughed. "Don't be like that, Jess. You know I'll get the job." He leaned forward, mock concern on his face. "Hey, this isn't because Marcy and I are engaged, is it?"

Clearly, when it came to men, my instincts could not be trusted. I thought Kevin seemed like a nice guy when we first met. Handsome, smart, funny. I'd ignored warning signs, like his constant little criticisms, even as they wore down my self-confidence.

Well, fuck him. I was done being a pushover.

"It isn't. If you're through, I have some work to do."

Kevin made a tsk sound and shook his head. Smirking again.

Motherfucker.

"I'll let you get to it." He stood. "Look for an email from me with all the numbers I need to see. Budget and headcount, visitor data, that kind of thing. And remember," he pointed his finger at me, "no big projects."

I didn't say anything. As soon as he left and closed my door, I called HR.

This job was my calling. I'd worked hard for this position, and I wouldn't let him undermine me.

If Kevin wanted a war, he was going to get one.