BACK AT THE OFFICE, I checked with Gloria on the calls she’d held for me while we were out. Vick waved me off and made a beeline for her desk, shining even brighter than she did on her best day.
“She seems happy,” Gloria blurted. “You seem happy too.”
I tore my gaze from the little pixie. “She needed a pick-me-up. I delivered one.”
“Make sure you’re delivering more than just one.”
“Are you her best friend all of a sudden? Remember we’ve known each other for years, woman.”
“She’s climbed the ladder and passed you on the totem pole pretty fast in my book.”
“Great. I’m going back to work.”
As I walked back to my office, I saw Vick sliding the decline button on her phone again. This time I didn’t wonder if it was Mr. Stevie. The man wasn’t even looking her way.
The hum of the office had reached the normal level now that Vick bustled about reinvigorated. I dove into my work with new energy, too, knowing full well that Ms. Blakely had infected me.
I just wasn’t sure it was something I wanted to be infected with. Work came first, yet my mind wandered to her more than it should have.
By the time peoples’ desks started to clear and the sun began its descent in the sky, I’d spun every possible scenario for our relationship in my mind. We were complete opposites. She was the damn kid on the other side of Neverland where time didn’t exist and fun overpowered everything. Yet, somehow, her fun was getting better results than my serious approach.
Me: Come to my office when you get a minute.
Victory: Why don’t you come to my office?
Me: I was attempting to give you the option. Now, that seems ridiculous. Get your ass in here. Now.
She fluttered over to Bob’s desk as he was packing up and talked with him for a good five minutes. Then she meandered in. “Yes, Phantom?”
“Drop the name. It’s not Halloween.”
“Not happening. It suits you when you get all perturbed like this.”
“You realize the Phantom of the Opera was a recluse consumed with self-loathing, right?”
“So, what? You a generic phantom haunting all of us with the facts of the day? We don’t care about the details of the actual musical.” She crossed her legs and folded her hands as if her word was final.
“This is a ridiculous conversation.” I straightened my tie to get back to what needed to be said. “I think we need to have dinner together.”
Her mahogany eyes opened to the size of saucers. Then she backpedaled toward the door and shook her head. “Nope. No. No. No.”
She’d made it to the door, about to pull the handle open and walk out when I pressed the privacy button. “Why?”
She yanked the door, and it didn’t budge. She jiggled the handle. “Seriously?”
“Answer me.”
“No. Let me out.”
“Not happening, Pix.”
“After all this time? What happened to reality? Me in the clouds and you on the ground?”
“Figured we’ll meet in the middle.”
She huffed. “I had a plan, you know? I was going to date a nice, competent guy with a suitable job and get married. He would love me, and we would fit perfectly in a sweet little saltbox house.” She paced and rubbed her forehead. “It was a good plan. Solid. And Steven checked all the boxes. He’s sweet enough and nice enough and he obviously has a good job.”
“He’s an annoying shell of a man. You and I both know it. He bent over backwards and was willing to sleep around on you just to have a bro night with me.”
She rubbed her forehead and avoided meeting my gaze as she said, “Whatever. He was perfect for me.”
I leaned back on my desk. “What’s it you said to me earlier in our messages? Oh, right. ‘Get fucked’ because that’s a lie.”
“I was trying to get fucked by Steven,” she sputtered and threw up her hands.
Her words—or maybe the day, or maybe my whole thought process—finally caused my temper to erupt. “In that case, lift your skirt, woman,” I bellowed back. “I’m happy to show you that he will never be able to fuck you like I do.”
I saw the shiver run through her, and her nipples tightened under the thin material she claimed was a blouse. “We need this conversation to be over, and we probably need to stop what we’re doing.”
“You’re that scared?”
“I’m not exactly excited about falling for you and having my heart broken. I’ll fall too. Like an idiot seeing all the stop signs and still going full speed ahead.”
“You do have a tendency to do the opposite of what the signs say. Hawaii, for example …”
“This isn’t a joke, Jett.”
“For once, you don’t want to lighten up. Fine. Entertain my idea for a second. You can live on the edge a little, we can see where it goes. Don’t you want to see where this goes?”
“Can you honestly say you think it’ll go somewhere?”
“I don’t know.”
“And that’s the problem. I want someone to know. I could know with you. If you wanted it, I could know.”
“You’re trying to check off boxes, Vick. And that’s not the fairy tale you want. You could know with anyone because you just want the life you planned. That’s you shooting for the sky but you work for me. We go above and beyond the sky. Me and you, if we end up working, we’ll be beyond, Pix.”
Her eyes glistened at my words. She eyed the paperweights that had mocked me all day with their colors. “Who gave you those?”
“My dad.”
“You stare at them a lot.”
“They open my eyes to what people want and need.”
“What do I want and need? Can you tell just by me looking at them?”
“You want the world, Victory Blakely, and I’m going to try and give it to you.”
She stopped pacing and set one shaky hand on her hip. The orange band on her wrist looked completely out of place next to her expensive outfit but also perfectly placed because she was Victory Blakely. Without color, she wasn’t her.
“You’re mixing up my thoughts, Jett. I sat in that chair”—she thrust a finger toward her desk—“all day telling myself we don’t fit. I chose the right words with the right reality this time. I didn’t fabricate it or fluff it up. I flew down from the clouds you think I’m on to get to your level. I told myself we will never ever work.”
“Let’s go past the sign that says Imminent Shitstorm Ahead, Pix. Let’s see if we can.”
She stalked up to me and grabbed the back of my neck to take my mouth in hers. The woman kissed like she approached life. The color blasted through me, making me wonder if I’d only been living in gray scale all of my adulthood. She pulled back. “Don’t disappoint me, Phantom.”
I smiled. “I wasn’t joking when I told you to lift your skirt.”
She stepped back and slid it slowly up her hips. My dick stood to attention immediately. Her long legs looked smooth as silk, and when I grabbed her by the waist, she wrapped them around me and tightened her hold. “Is this room somewhat soundproof?”
“Doesn’t matter if it isn’t. I expect you to scream my name, Pix. And I don’t care if everyone hears it.”
She moaned and yanked what little hair of mine she could grasp, then dove in for another kiss. This was long overdue. I swiped my tongue across her plump bottom lip. “Still taste like strawberries.”
She bit my lip and ground out, “And you still taste like the Phantom in my dreams, the one I couldn’t shake even though I wanted to.”
I’d pictured her on my desk for days now, pictured taking her everywhere in Stonewood Tower. When she murmured those words, I almost dropped her, almost ran the other way. Something deep in me stirred, and I wasn’t sure if I could handle it. I was used to managing everything, and not being able to control this feeling, this relationship with her, put a frigid fear in me.
Her nails dragged across my back, and she looked up at me. Her brow furrowed like she was just as nervous, just as scared, like she knew the chemistry between us would erupt and destroy us or be a phenomenon we could never come back from.
I swooped one arm across my desk and files flew to the floor along with all but one paperweight. I dropped her ass on the edge of the oversize desk and placed that brilliant rainbow of glass next to her. She and I looked at it for a second.
“Do I want to know?” she whispered.
“If we don’t work out, I’ll name this piece after you.” I unbuckled my belt and slid it slow and deliberate from my waist. She watched my every movement and then leaned forward to unbutton my pants and lower my zipper. I took my dick from my briefs and said, “You’re swirling around in my damn head, and I swear it looks just like this. Color everywhere, warring and fighting and fucking with me.”
“Jett, I can’t … you can’t say things like that to me and expect …”
I stopped her by sliding my fingers up her thighs and moving the lace thong she wore to the side. “I say what I mean, and I mean every word.”
She hissed when one finger slid in. “God, I’m so wet already.”
“Because I’m here to fuck you, Victory Blakely. I own this part of you.”
Her eyes flew open as she ground her pussy into my hand. “No one owns any part of me, Phantom. I belong to me.” She grabbed my wrist and worked herself faster as I slid another finger in. She rode my hand like she was chasing her dreams, her head falling back. With her eyes closed and her pinkish hair cascading down around her, swaying to her rhythm, she captivated me. “You’re mine, woman.”
“I’m mine. I own me.” Her damn drive and determination to be herself, to push herself, to stand up and shine bright as the sun hooked its claws into me. My armor melted, bled down onto the floor and dissipated.
“If you say so, Pix. If you say so,” I murmured as she hit her high and I watched, riveted by the way she writhed against me.
She came back to me quick, eyes wide and alert. A sheen of sweat glistened on her skin, and she yanked my hand from her sex to bring it to her lips. She tasted herself on my fingers and I almost came right there as she sucked them clean. “I do say so, Phantom. And don’t you ever forget it.”
I plunged into her like I could overpower her or manage her rapture over me by working her into a frenzy again. I delivered the high she craved and swam in the dream she’d invented for me. I didn’t know how she’d gradually hypnotized me, but she had. I wondered if I could do the same to her, if I could charm her into indulging me for a bit longer.
When she screamed my name, I gripped the paperweight next to her and used the edge of my desk as leverage to bury myself deep into her as I came.
We both forced in deep breaths, relishing the post-orgasm sensation. I pushed up on my forearms and peered down at her.
“You good?” I asked, voice softer than it had probably ever been after sex.
She glanced down at our bodies, still wrapped up in each other. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, fine.”
I looked down, too, with a sinking thought. “Shit.” I pulled out of her and off her in the same motion. “I didn’t protect you.”
“Or yourself,” she declared and waved at my junk.
“Shit.” I had messed up. “I’m clean, Pix.”
“Me too.” She waited a beat. “I also have birth control. Not trying to trap you or anything. No worries.”
She hopped off the desk and righted her clothes.
“I’m not worried about that. I never said you would,” I blurted, somewhat angry she had the audacity to come to that conclusion.
“Your mind works that way. Darkest reality ready to present itself at any moment. So, I’m reassuring you.”
“That’s bullshit.” I grabbed my belt off the floor and pushed my dick back into my briefs. “Don’t pin that accusation on me.”
She shrugged and finger-brushed her colorful hair. “Okay, Jett.” She smoothed her hands down her outfit and sighed. “Thank you for the good day. I was convinced it would be terrible.”
My gut and heart clenched at her soft omission. “Looking forward to making a few more of your days the best you’ve ever had.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she swiftly threw back, but she was smiling.
“I would. I intend to. Get ready for me, Victory Blakely. I’m about to own you like I own my company.”
“Now that would be an experience, but I highly doubt it, Jett. You can only have one real lover, and that’s the company for you.”
I picked up the paperweight and tossed it up. We watched it spin in the air before I caught it. “I intend to prove your statement wrong.”
“I intend to enjoy watching you try.” With that, the woman, confident as hell in her exits, left me without a backward glance.
