Destined To Fall (5 page)

She rises from the chair, and smoothes her skirt. “As I said, Mr. Knight, I
won’t need your help. I hope I didn’t waste too much of your time.”
She turns and walks straight out of my office without a backwards glance,
leaving me a little more than stunned.
Did that really just happen?
Yes. Yes it did. And hell if it didn’t turn me the fuck on.

I slip my stiletto heels off, reveling in the relief the soft carpeting in my office
provides the balls of my feet. It’s been another long day in the office, but my
work day isn’t quite over yet. The majority of my co-workers went home an
hour ago, and in their absence the space surrounding my office is quiet, and
lacks the usual buzz of activity. But I don’t mind the quiet. In fact, it’s when I’m
afforded to chance to wind down, and be alone with my thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s my impending work that will need to distract me from my thoughts.
My incessant thoughts about Kyler, to be more specific.
My ‘meeting’ with him yesterday, if I can even call it that, could’ve gone better, and I could’ve handled myself better too, but something about the way he
spoke to me, like I’m a subordinate - which technically I am - made my blood
boil. So much so that I denied his request to help me with my presentation
when I had no right to do so.
Before Kyler arrived, it was his father, Robert, who took me under his wing,
and now it seems Kyler would be taking his place. I don’t want Kyler to take
me under his anything.
Liar.
Ever since I had that dream, I’ve been thinking about him in ways I shouldn’t
be, and the combination of seeing him yesterday and being so angry with him
only fueled my lust-filled thoughts. Today was challenging enough without
the visuals of being bent over his desk, or mine, swirling around in my head.
Not to mention that it has me more sexually frustrated than I was before that
stupid dream. Even after taking ‘care of it myself ’, the constant throb between
my legs still comes to life every time I think about him. I barely know the
man, and yet I’ve envisioned being fucked in every position, on every surface
at least a hundred times today.
Sheesh, what is wrong with me?
I shake my head, as if it will dislodge the thoughts fogging up my ability to
think rationally, and take a walk to my windows. My view of the city is quite
spectacular, especially at dusk when the lights of the city start to flicker to life.
Night time in this city is beautiful, and creates a different kind of atmosphere
for the bustling metropolis that has become my home. I like it here, and I like
my life here too, but every now and then I’ll find myself thinking about where
exactly it is I come from. Georgia, or rather the small cardboard box of a town
I grew up in, is the exact opposite of this thriving city, as is the shitty trailer
where I lived most of my young life. I worked hard, and despite being told
by my parents that I would never amount to more than white trash, I never
wavered from pursuing my dream. And it payed off. I not only showed myself I could do it, but I disproved my parents’ belief that I would end up just
like them. I haven’t thought about them in a while, but I know the inevitable
phone call is coming soon.
It has started becoming more regular, and the amounts they want are increasing, to the point where I can’t give it without dipping into my small savings.
My college scholarship came in handy, but I’m still living from pay check to
pay check. Thankfully, I don’t pay rent, so the money I would’ve spent on that
gets deposited into a savings account, a little nest egg I’m growing for myself.
I learned many years ago that nothing in life comes easy, and that means I
don’t have the luxury of a trust fund like Quinn, and I suspect Kyler and Jarred
too, has. Not that I begrudge them the privilege.
I just wish my life started out differently, and that not everything was a hardship.
The sudden chill, and strange spark, in the air makes me shiver, which is odd
considering it’s late May, and the temperatures are rising. I rub up and down
my arms, hoping to stop my skin from breaking out into goosebumps.The tiny
hairs on the nape of my neck rise, and I have the feeling I’m being watched.
That’s when I notice Kyler’s reflection in the window. I spin around and find
him staring at me, the whisper of a smile making its way across his lips. His
dark hair looks mussed, like he’s pulled his fingers through it several times already, and his blue eyes are locked on me. The light blue shirt that clings to his
broad chest is unbuttoned at the top, giving my a slight sneak of the smooth,
bronzed skin underneath. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and it shows
off a very impressive set of forearms. With arms like his, he must go to the gym
regularly. Not to mention his legs, and those muscular thighs. It was yesterday,
that I noticed he’s taller than I thought, but now, standing in the doorway to
my smallish office, he looks… bigger, longer.
Snap out of it Cass! You’re eye fucking him, and it’s obvious!
Kyler smirks, and I wonder if he can somehow hear my internal dialogue.
Wouldn’t that be interesting, especially when I think about him and all the
dirty things I want him to do to me.
Wait, what?
“What are you doing here?”
Kyler takes a few steps into my office and narrows the gap between us before
replying, “It’s nice to see you too Miss Emerson.”
He places a bag on my small work table in the corner, and a delicious smell
floats past me.
My stomach growls. I’m starving, and it would be appear that Kyler brought
dinner.
“As I told you yesterday,” he continues, watching me.
“I’m helping you with your presentation, and since you failed to tell me where
we would be working, I took the initiative and came and found you.”
His eyes travel the length of my body, appraising it, making me feel hot and
flustered yet again. The hunger in his eyes has no nothing to do with the food
on the table, I’m sure, and while it should make me feel uncomfortable, it
doesn’t. All it does is the stoke the fire deep in my belly, making my attraction
to him so intense that it’s uncomfortable. I find myself crossing my legs, hoping the friction between my thighs will help soothe the persistent purr I feel
down there.
Clearing my throat, I straighten my stance and raise my chin in defiance. “I
already told you, Mr. Knight, I won’t need your help.” I’m being a total brat
and I know it, which seems to be amusing Kyler when it should piss him off.
But I know I’m a challenge to him, which is why he hasn’t fired me for blatant
insubordination. That, and I suspect his father wouldn’t be impressed if Kyler
were to let me go.
Kyler approaches, slowly closing the space between us and I’m forced to look
up at him. The vision of him towering above me in my dream flashes through
my mind and I have to fight my body’s instinct to lean in to him.
I mentally swat at the desire I feel simmering between us as if it’s a fly buzzing
around my head. This. Can’t. Happen.
“Well, Miss Emerson,” he breathes in a low, bedroom voice. “I wasn’t aware
that you had any choice in the matter. So either you accept it and let me help
you, or I can use more…forceful…methods to get you to comply.”
A shiver races through my body before I can stop it and I curse myself for being so weak, for resounding so readily to the arrogant asshole in front of me.
I think about it for a minute, reasoning that the sooner I accept his help, the
sooner we can be done and he can go back to leaving me alone. Because that’s
all this is isn’t it? A game?
“Fine,” I acquiesce. “But no funny business, Kyler.” Saying his name feels
strange, it sounds foreign coming from my mouth. I imagine what it would
should like if I were to scream it in the throws of passion. The thought makes
my cheeks warm and my thighs, and my pussy, clench.
Sweet baby Jesus, reign
it in! Control yourself for pity’s sake!
“No funny business,” he agrees, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Until you
decide you want me.”
I snort, rather unladylike, and roll my eyes as I take a step back from him. The
distance is needed. “As if. We’re working together, and that’s it.”
Kyler shakes his head, chuckling. “When my father asked me to help you, he
didn’t mention what a little hellcat you are. Must be those Georgia roots.” He
turns around and starts taking out the food he bought. I stare at the back of
his head.
“What? You father asked you to help me?” Until now, I thought Kyler only
wanted to help me to get closer to me. Why I thought that I don’t know, considering we barely know anything about each other. But I was wrong. This
wasn’t his choice.
Something akin to disappointment burrows its way into my chest, but I push
it down in the hopes that it will be smothered. I’m being ridiculous.
“Yes, he - ”
“And how did you know I’m from Georgia?”
This should have ben my biggest concern, but as always, I’m more worried
about impressing my boss than having Kyler find out I come from nothing.
Not that I’m ashamed. It’s just not something I want people to know about
me. It doesn’t define who I am, but it certainly influences what people think
about me, and I’m in no way inclined to have people think I’m a hick.
Kyler holds my gaze, and I catch but a glimpse of the power he exudes. It’s
the kind of gaze that would make anyone shrink and cower on the spot. But I
refuse to give him the satisfaction. Because the way his eyes hold mine, turns
me on. “I read your employee file.”
“Why?”
There’s a pregnant pause, and at first I don’t think he’ll give me an answer. He
doesn’t have to. He is after all taking over this company from his father, from
what I’ve assumed, and it;s only natural for him to want to get to know his
employees.
But something about it tells me that’s not that case.
“I was curious,” he finally replies, turning to face me.
“About what? Did you go through anyone’s else’s files?”
A flicker of embarrassment flits across Kyler’s face and I’m almost sure his
cheeks are hue faintest shade of red. He’s
blushing?
With a shrug of his shoulder, he simply says, “You.”
When he leaves the remainder of my question unanswered, my conclusion
hangs between us. He didn’t read up on anyone else. Just me.
My curiosity burns, and I ache to ask him what else he found out about me. I
have nothing to hide, but knowing he was curious about me sends a scorching
thrill through my entire body. Not helping, I tell myself.
The silence is broken by the sound of my stomach rumbling. Kyler and I both
chuckle, the seriousness of the moment broken. The tension between us simmers down, and I relax for the first time since Kyler walked into my office.
“Are you hungry?” he asks, his deep husky voice full of mirth. “I hope you like
Chinese.”
Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, I smile. “I’m starving, and I love Chinese.”
I step up to his side and look down. “Is that Beef Chow Mein?”
He shrugs. “I believe it is.”
“It’s my favorite,” I tell him. I pick up a plastic fork and put a piece of the delicious meat in my mouth.
“I know.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “That’s definitely not in my employee file.”
This time he looks sheepish. “I called Quinn, and asked her what you liked. I
knew if I called you, you wouldn’t have told me.”
I have no response to that. Because he’s right. I wouldn’t have told him had he
asked me.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He smiles at me, and I can tell he means it. “You’re welcome.”
Kyler dishes up our food and we take a seat on the carpet, our backs against
the small sofa I have in the corner.
We eat in a comfortable silence for a while, and I can feel Kyler’s eyes on me.
But I’m feeling too confused, and perhaps a little bashful, to meet his inquisitive stare.
To be honest, I feel a little silly, for behaving the way I did yesterday, and more
so for thinking was anything more than what it is. Work. The realization has a
mixture of relief and something I can’t name colliding in my chest.
As soon as we’re done eating, we get to work. I open up the presentation on
my laptop and give Kyler a run down of what I’m going to be proposing to
the board. The idea is to introduce Knight Media to the new sphere of digital
publishing. It entails the introduction of eBooks, and the implementation of
a self-publishing platform which will allow aspiring writers to publish and
sell their work independently. According to my research, eBook sales have
increased significantly over the past year and have overtaken traditional trade
paperback sales. This presents Knight Media with an opportunity to tap into a
previously unexplored market, while opening itself up to new potential clients.
Kyler gives me a few suggestions here and there and I find his opinions and
insights helpful. He’s smart, and it’s just another item on a long list of things
that I kind of like about him. I’m starting to realize that the old adage “Don’t
judge a book by it’s cover” actually holds true. He listens attentively, and aside
from a few accidental brushes against my arm and my hands, he takes our
working together seriously.
I’m in the middle of explaining the forecasted sales for the next year, should
the board of directors agree to go ahead with my proposal, when my phone
rings. I jump up quickly and fish it out my bag, apologizing to Kyler for having
to interrupt our work. I frown when I don’t recognize the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Cassey. It’s Drew.”
I cringe. So not the person I want to be talking to now. I walk to the window,
aware that Kyler can probably hear my conversation anyway. Should I care that
he can hear?
“Oh,” I pause. “Hi, Drew.”
“I got your number from Quinn, I hope it’s okay that I’m calling.”
I turn to look at Kyler. He’s scowling, and I can’t tell if it’s directed at me, or
Drew.
“Uh, now’s not actually a good time, I’m still - ”
“Listen,” Drew interrupts me. Irritation blooms and I grip my phone a little
tighter. He’s being rude. “I was wondering if you’d be my date for my parents
anniversary party next weekend. I need a date and Quinn said you’re available.”
Well, fuck. If he puts it like that, how can a girl say no?
“Don’t worry,” he continues, not allowing me to respond. “I know you can’t
afford a fancy dress or anything. Quinn said you can just borrow something of
hers for the night.”
What the…? Is this guy being serious?
I remain silent, unable to get the angry words past the lump in my throat.
“Hello? Cassey? Are you there?”
“I, uh..” I stutter. “Yes, I’m sill here.”
“Then why don’t you answer me?”
“No.”
“No what?” he asks.