After I saw Nicole’s tears for the first time and touched them. After I heard her say she’s only tolerating my despicable presence because she wants to keep a roof over her family’s head.
Family.
When the fuck did she get a family? Her father is dead. She left her stepfather’s house that fateful day, and her mother is gone, too.
So she doesn’t have that. A family.
Or maybe she’s not fucked up in the head like I am and made herself a family like normal people are supposed to.
Either way, I reach the office carrying all the demons that I’ve been hiding for years. They’re proudly sitting on my shoulders now, on fucking display for the entire world to see.
And because I’m in a mood, I’m tempted to make someone else experience it, too. Specifically, her.
I stare at my watch, counting the seconds until she misses the eight a.m. mark, but she comes inside at that exact moment, carrying the cup of coffee in one hand and the files in the other.
She’s wearing a tight dark blue blouse that’s straining against her tits. That’s not all, though. The first two buttons are undone so when she leans down to place what she’s holding in front of me, I get a front-row view of the line between her creamy pale tits.
I grind my teeth with pure fucking anger at how my dick strains against my trousers.
Being attracted to Nicole or even seeing her as a woman should be the last item on my agenda.
“Here’s your coffee and the contract drafts that you asked for. I also emailed you a digital version in case you need it.”
“Are you a fucking whore?”
She jerks back at that, her eyes widening. “What is wrong with you first thing in the morning?”
“I should be the one asking that. Is seduction your next scheme?”
“W-what?”
I tilt my head to her chest and she slowly looks down, then clamps her fingers around the loose buttons. Red covers her cheeks, and if I didn’t know her better, I would’ve said she’s blushing.
But Nicole fucking Adler doesn’t do any blushing or most normal human feelings.
“That wasn’t on purpose.” She releases her shirt as soon as she buttons it, then stares at me. “And you’re the last man I’d ever attempt to seduce.”
“That’s because I won’t be seduced by you.”
“Perfect. We finally agree on something.” She fixes me with one of her haughty looks. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Then she turns around and leaves.
I’m tempted to call for her again, just to annoy the fuck out of her as much as she’s making my life hell.
Maybe it’s not worth it, after all.
Maybe I should throw her out and continue living like I did before she showed her face in New York.
Then I’m hit with all the fucking things she did and the way she turned my life upside down and I instantly wipe those thoughts away.
Taking a sip of my coffee, I flip through the document. Red marker in hand, I underline any words and sentences that I want replaced and circle the ones that need to be removed.
Once I’m finished, I take it to her. I could call her over, but I like catching her off guard. She’ll slightly jump in her seat and her lips will fall open as her green eyes widen.
It’s a view I’ve been actively trying to recreate every chance I get.
Before I open the door, however, I see her leaning against her desk, facing the wall and holding a phone to her ear.
Although her back is the only thing visible, her shoulders are tense and her spine is snapped in a line.
Instead of my plan of forceful entry, I slowly open the door. She doesn’t pay me any attention as she manically taps her foot on the floor.
“…I know. I’m sorry, hon. I promise to come a bit earlier today, so wait for me and don’t fall asleep, okay? I’ll make your favorite dish.”
A red haze covers my vision and I’m close to punching the wall.
I don’t, though.
I shouldn’t be even thinking about such violence.
“Are you having personal calls while working, Ms. Adler?”
She startles and stumbles forward before catching herself at the last second. The phone falls to her side and she stares at me with that frozen expression again.
Only, this time, I find no pleasure in it. The usual feeling is muddying with something else entirely nefarious and somber.
“I…” she trails off.
“You’re what? Does the firm pay you to talk on the phone?”
“I didn’t think…”
“Obviously. Are you daft?”
“I’m not daft.” She lifts her head. “Stop calling me that.”
“Then stop doing daft actions. Have another personal phone call while working and it’ll be your last. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.”
“And drop the fucking attitude. I mean it, Nicole. You’re not the one with superiority here.”
She purses her lips, but she doesn’t make the situation worse and remains silent.
I throw the document on her desk. “I need that back in twenty minutes. Get to it.”
Then I return to my office and close the shutters before I act on the animalistic urge inside me.
Hon.
That’s what she said.
Fucking hon.
And don’t sleep. Wait for me.
And she’ll make him his favorite dish.
Since fucking when does she even cook?
She’s always been a princess. Always tended to and served one way or another. So who the fuck would she cook for? Who the fuck would she hold in such high regard?
I pull out my phone and call the only person who can explain this clusterfuck.
She answers with a long, excited, “Bug!!”
Muse’s music filters from her end. She’s been obsessed with that band ever since we were teenagers.
“Hey, Bugger.”
That’s what my best friend and I have called each other since we were fifteen. Ever since I saw stars on her wrist and thought they were bugs. I asked her if that’s what they were and she was offended because they were the last tattoos her mother did. She swung around to punch me, but we lost balance and fell together in the pool.
Then we were pushing each other while trying to climb out and fell into it again.
We burst out laughing and have been inseparable ever since. Astrid is the only one who’s never judged me for being a troublemaker, for being too flashy and fickle.
She says she understands I’m doing it for a reason. I’m acting out for a reason, and she’s there to listen.
I could never find a more loyal friend than her. She’s my ride or die. The one I would go to a survival game with and know we’ll both come out of it riding our unicorns toward the sun.
Muse’s music lowers in volume and she asks in a serious tone, “What is it? Are you okay? Should I fly to New York and beat up whoever is bothering you?”
“Easy there on the violence, Bug. This isn’t the Vikings.”
“The world would be much easier if it were, just saying. So? What’s up?”
“Why do you think something is up?”
“You sound weird.”
“What are you, my mother?”
“Well, I am a mother, so I have a different gut feeling. Speaking of mums, yours kinda misses you. It’s okay if you call for more than a minute per decade.” I can imagine the eye roll without having to see it.