It’s Monica’s loss not being here, watching him grow up and become the incredible boy he is. And I will never stop reminding him of that until I take my very last breath.
“Go take off your shoes, put your bag where it goes, then meet me in the kitchen.” I direct Oliver to his room, hoping he’ll follow my directions as I shuck my jacket and follow him down the hallway to change my clothes in my room.
Once I’m in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, I head toward the kitchen to find him sitting on his stool at the kitchen counter. “I’m hungry, Daddy.” He bounces in his seat, and then in his next breath, he asks, “Is it time to make pizza yet?”
“Yes, it is. Do you need your chef’s hat?” I spin around to locate the matching chef’s hats I purchased for the two of us. Oliver is going through a phase of being picky with food, so my mom and I discussed allowing him to be involved in making the food so he could have some ownership over what he’s eating. She read some article that suggested it, and it sounded like an easy way to help with the problem, so I obliged. Little did I know that trying to cook with a five-year-old would be one of the most chaotic things I’ve ever done. But Ollie loves it, and it’s something that we get to do at night, just the two of us, so I try to enjoy every moment of it.
“Yes, Daddy!” He hops off his stool and takes his hat from my hand, placing it on his head. “Now, let’s make the best pizza ever!”
I give him a high five after I place my hat on my head too. “Let’s do it.”
After we eat dinner and Oliver is clean, I tuck him in bed and sit on the couch, exhausted after a long day. I debate finding something new to watch on Netflix or seeing what’s on television, but part of me is just too tired to care.
I decide to take a shower and pass out early tonight, hoping I’ll wake up feeling rested and productive tomorrow. But as I lie down to go to sleep, the image of Amelia from today pushes itself forward in my mind.
I hate that I want her, that my body is all too curious about how her lips feel or what sounds she might make as I sink my cock into her. I hate that I wonder what her story is. I hate that no matter how much I know she’s a nuisance to my job, I look forward to our interactions and catching glimpses of her throughout the day.
I know the last thing I need is to get involved with someone right now, but it’s been a while since my dick had any female treatment, and right now he’s focused on the newest option nearby. That’s all it has to be, right?
Smirking, I place my hands behind my head and stare up at the ceiling. There isn’t anything on television to keep me entertained right now, but perhaps irritating my new work neighbor can be my new source of entertainment.
I can’t fuck her out of my system, so pissing her off will just have to be the next best thing. And perhaps tomorrow she’ll find what I left for her in her office. Here’s hoping.
* * *
“Good morning, Yvonne.” I greet my secretary as I step through the doors of my office just after nine.
“Good morning, Ethan. Um, you have someone waiting for you in your office already.”
That has me stopping in my tracks. My first appointment isn’t until ten. “Really?”
She nods, biting her lip. “Yes. And I told her you weren’t here yet, but she insisted on waiting for you there. I hope that’s okay. She was very persuasive.”
“Well, okay then. Please have my files for me when I’m through.”
She lifts the folder. “They’re already here.”
“Thank you.” I grab the folder from her, tucking it under my arm as I make my way down the hallway to my office, curious about who my impromptu visitor might be. But as soon as I step through the door and get a whiff of lemons and sugar, I know exactly who’s here.
Spinning around from where she’s standing along the wall, staring up at my degrees and awards framed there, is Amelia, wearing a fitted, sleeveless black dress that doesn’t show much skin but definitely highlights her curvy figure. Her hair is down and wild around her face, and her eyes are glowing that honey brown I noticed the other day behind her black-rimmed glasses, but her scowl has me fighting my grin and delighted at pissing her off even more.
“Well, good morning, neighbor.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No, Mr. Fuller. This is not a good morning.”
“Oh, Amelia, please call me Mr. Fuller again. I didn’t know that was one of my kinks until you just said it.” Chuckling to myself, I make my way around my desk to set down the folder, my briefcase, and my coffee. I mentally pat myself on the shoulder for perfecting that asshole remark.
Her mouth drops open. “God, you have no shame, do you?”
“What do you mean?” I ask coyly, slinking back in my chair and folding my arms over my chest as I watch her start to unravel.
“First, I sincerely hope you don’t talk to your female clients like that because they could sue you for sexual harassment. And second, I believe you left something in my office the other day.” She tosses the stack of business cards I left on her little side table by her door, and now I’m thoroughly pleased that she made this discovery at the exact time I was hoping.
“To answer your first question, don’t worry about how I speak to my female clients. My crass comments are reserved just for you, I assure you. And second, I didn’t know that leaving my cards there would be such an issue. There were plenty of other business cards on the table, so I figured it was a free opportunity for advertising.” Grinning, I smile up at her as I watch her clench her jaw.
“Well, the opportunity was not extended to you. In case you’ve forgotten, you stand for everything that is the opposite of what I do.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I just wanted to make sure that your clients knew they had other options besides the kumbaya sessions you’re holding across the way.”
“God, my brother was right. You’re cocky, and not in a good way.”
And that morsel of information has me smiling even wider. “I see you finally made that connection as well.”
“Oh, that you know my brother? That he sold you this office without thinking about how it would affect my business? Don’t worry, he got an earful from me about it.”
“Lucky him.”
She takes a few steps over to my desk and leans over it, zeroing her gaze on me. And right about now, I’m wishing that her dress was cut low in the front so I could get a view of her cleavage and use that vision later when I’m alone.
Fuck, she’s so hot, so voluptuous, so passionate—that has to translate to other things.
My dick instantly gets hard just watching her, and I can’t remember the last time that happened. I’m a grown man, but I’m getting hard like a teenager.
This is not good, but damn, it feels good to misbehave—especially with her.
“Listen here, Ethan. You need to stay away from my office and away from my clients. My goal is to pretend that you don’t even exist and go about my business, and I think you should do the same.”
“Shame. I definitely know I can’t pretend like you don’t exist, Amelia. But please, do go on.”
She points a finger at my desk. “Your business cards aren’t welcome in my office, and neither are you. Stay on your side of the complex, and everything will be fine.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, arching a brow at her.
She stands up tall again as a mischievous grin builds on her lips. “Then I’ll have no choice but to retaliate.”
“Is that so?”
“Don’t test me, Ethan Fuller.”
“Oh, Dr. St. Clair. Now I want nothing more than to know what you’re capable of.”
She turns around and heads for my door, and I watch her ass the entire way before she glances over her shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then she leaves, and my dick twitches as I watch her walk away.
Chuckling, I reach for my cup of coffee and take a sip. “Fuck me,” I mutter to myself, daydreaming about what I would have done with her alone in my office under any other circumstances.
This woman is getting under my skin now. She’s ruffling my feathers and making me forget that I’m alone for a very important reason. I don’t need a distraction, a fire to contain. But damn, she sure is the type that makes a man want to whip out his fire hose and douse a few flames.
And now I’m wondering, does Amelia have what it takes to go toe-to-toe with me? Does she have the balls (metaphorically speaking, of course) to retaliate?
Or will this little game we’re playing just fizzle out as quickly as it started?
I genuinely don’t want to hurt her business or my own, but it’s too damn fun messing with her.
Perhaps I should go over and apologize, let her know that I didn’t mean any harm and I don’t really want to start a war. My immaturity was coming out, and I would honestly like us to remain civil. But would she even believe me?
Maybe I should just let this die down naturally, let her cool off and pretend like everything is as normal as it was before we crossed paths. Besides, I have more important things to focus on, like my son.
Remember your priorities, Ethan. Pissing off some woman is not something you should be concerned with right now.
Clearing my throat and reminding myself that I’m a grown-ass adult and professional, I shake off my impromptu meeting with Amelia and open up the folder on my desk, preparing for my meeting at ten and putting that sexually charged interaction out of my mind—at least until later, when I can take care of the steel rod in my pants as well.
* * *