Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Margaret’s POV

Home sweet home…

I willed myself to open my eyes as the morning sun peaked its beautiful face through the slight part of my window. Getting up from the bed was almost a difficult task to do as I almost could not peel my weakened skin up from the bed. The muscles between my legs contrasted so beautifully well, so that even though it ached, it was both for a good and bad purpose. Good purpose in the sense that the event that left me in such a wreck was worth it. I mean, I didn’t get to enjoy a sex marathon every other month. The bad purpose attributed to the deliciously contrasting muscles is because of the sheer fact that the man who made me feel this way is meant to be an enemy.

I ran my hand through the water in the bathtub when it was hot enough, I poured in my scented body wash soap and oil before dipping my body inside, allowing the water to provide me with as much soothing as possible. Thirty minutes I was all done and up; and getting dressed. For my clothes, I chose a thigh-length pencil gown with a slit stopping right on my thighs, pairing it with a net stocking, for my hair, I decided to wear it down in its natural waves and not do anything hard or special with it and my shoes were a pair from jimmy choo’s strappy heels collection. My makeup was light save for the heavy layer of red lipstick and my overly accentuated lashes. I still had the lashes extension I had on during my preparation to get to Italy. Once I was done, I picked up my Dior satchel office bag before giving myself a once over in the mirror. To say I had a rather entangled relationship with my boss would not be exactly far from telling the truth. One Mr. Williams and I had gotten it pretty heated in the office. Fuck it! It didn’t happen one time. After the first time it happened, it is safe to say we’ve jumped into a routine. Most often than not, he is either eating me out or I was blowing him off behind his office desk. Quite a number of times we went all out and had sex in his office or mine, as the case may be and for the little number of times I had been to his condo either for work-related purposes or not, it had been an all-night fuckery between the two of us. There was almost an unspoken rule that is tying me to him. For months now, I’ve been wanting to put an end to all the escapades and build a normal boss and subordinate relationship between us but I’ve been failing miserably. Probably because, aside from my conscience pricking me, I had no other reason to want to do so and also because sex with him was close to being divine. But now, following my new decision and method of bringing the fucking sin of a dumpster called Raymond Jones down to his, I knew I wouldn’t keep up with it. I mean it would be all wrong to keep up to it right?

I’d arrived early to have time to prepare for the presentation; two days ago while I was in Italy, Mr. Williams called to inform me of a presentation I would be handling for the board which included his father and elder brother. The first hospitality sector owned by Mr. Williams was a family business although somehow, he had the greater share amount. It wasn’t strictly my job, but Mr. William refused to have a dedicated assistant, and when left to his own devices, he was a disaster at making meetings pleasant: no coffee, no pastries, just a room full of people, pristine slides and handouts, and, as always, endless work.

The lobby was empty; the wide space opened three stories up and gleamed with polished granite flooring and travertine walls. As the elevator doors closed behind me, I gave myself a mental pep talk, recounting all the arguments we’d had when I refused him sex. I also recounted my earlier determination to quit whatever we had going on. I heaved a sigh and flattened my shoulders. I could do this. Mr. William was an angel when he wanted to be and a devil too when he is angry especially when he is denied something even if those things aren’t exactly his but I’d be damned if I would let him intimidate me. I lowered my hand to my ass and smiled wickedly . . .

As I expected, the office was still empty when I arrived. I gathered everything he would need for his presentation and headed to the conference room to set up. I tried to ignore the Pavlovian response. I had to see the wall of windows and the gleaming conference table.

Stop it, body. Engage now, brain.

Glancing around the sun-filled room, I set the files and laptop on the large conference table and helped the catering staff set up the breakfast spread along the back wall.

Twenty minutes later the proposals were set out, the projector was prepared, and refreshments were ready. With time to spare, I found myself wandering over to the window. I reached out and touched the smooth glass, overwhelmed by the sensations it brought; the heat of his body against my back, the feel of the cool glass against my breasts, and the raw animalistic sound of his voice in my ear.

“Ask me to make you come.”

I closed my eyes and leaned in, pressing my palms and forehead against the window, and let the power of the memories overtake me.

I was startled from my fantasy by a throat clearing behind me.

“Someone can’t wait, huh?”

“Mr. Williams,” I gasped, spinning around. Our eyes locked and I was once again struck by how beautiful he was. He broke eye contact to survey the room.

“Miss Phillps,” he said, each word sharp and clipped. “I’ll be giving the presentation on the seventh floor.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, irritation flooding me. “Why? We always use this room. And why did you wait until the last minute to tell me?”

“Because,” he growled, leaning on his fists on the table, “I am the boss. I make the rules, and I decide when and where things happen. Maybe if you weren’t intent on staring out the windows, you would have taken the time this morning to come to confirm the details with me.” A smug smile crept over his face.

“Fine by me,” I said, swallowing my annoyance. “No good decisions are ever made in this room anyway.”

When I turned the corner into the new conference room, my eyes immediately met Mr. Willam’s. Sitting in his chair, his hands predictably tented in front of him, he was the portrait of barely contained patience. Typical.

Then I noticed the person beside me: Stevenson Williams.

“Here, let me help you with that, Margret,” he said, taking a stack of folders from my arms so I could more easily maneuver the cart full of food into the room.

“Thank you, Mr. William.” I shot a pointed look at my boss.

“Margaret,” the elder Mr. Williams said, laughing. He took some handouts and sent the stack around the table for the attendees to take. “How many times do I need to tell you to call me Stevenson?” He was every bit as handsome as both of his sons. Tall and muscular, all three William men shared the same chiseled features. Stevenson’s sharp spiky hair had turned silver over the years since I’d first met him, but he was still one of the most handsome men I’d ever met.

I smiled gratefully at him as I sat down. “How is Amanda doing?”

“She’s doing fine. She keeps bugging me about having you over,” he added with a wink. It didn’t escape my attention that the youngest Mr. Williams snorted in annoyance beside me.

“Please tell her hi from me.”

Footsteps sounded behind me and a hand reached out to gently tug my ear.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mark Williams said, giving me a wide grin. He turned to address the rest of the room. “Sorry I’m late, guys. I guess I thought we were meeting up on your floor.”

I chanced a smug look out of the corner of my eye, meeting my boss’ gaze.

The stack of handouts came back to me and I handed a copy to him. “Here you are, Mr. William.”

Without so much as a glance, he snatched the stack and began leafing through them.

Dick.

Just as I was taking my seat, Henry’s boisterous voice called out, “Oh, Margaret, while I was up there waiting, I found these on the floor.” I walked over to him and saw two antiqued golden cuff-dress pins sitting in his palm. “Would you ask around and see if anyone’s lost these? They look kind of expensive.”

I felt my face heat. I had completely forgotten about my ruined stocking.

“Um . . . sure.”

“Mark, can I see those for a minute?” My boss suddenly chimed in, taking them from his brother. He turned to me with a wicked smirk in place. “Don’t you have a blouse with buttons like these?”

I glanced quickly around the room; Mark and Stevenson were already absorbed in another conversation, oblivious to what was happening between us.

“No,” I said, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. “I don’t.”

“Are you sure?” Taking my hand, he ran a finger from the inside of my arm to my palm before dropping the buttons and closing my hand around them. My breath caught in my throat and my heart pounded fiercely against my chest.

I jerked my hand back as if I’d been burned. “I’m sure.”

“I could have sworn the stocking you wore the other day had little golden buttons with butterfly prints. The black net one, that looks like the one you presently have on, not this one? I remember because I noticed one of them was loose when you came looking for me upstairs.” Leaning in closely, his breath hot on my ear, he whispered, “You really should try to be more careful.” Throughout the meeting, we cast glances at each other, mine fueled with anger and his with increasing uncertainty. I looked down at the spreadsheets in front of me as much as possible to avoid looking at him. He hated my silence after a smug attitude from him but that’s what I’d feed him with the whole day. Pure silence treatment.

As soon as it was all over, I gathered my things and got the hell out of there. But as expected, he was hot on my tail all the way to the elevator until we were both seething silently in the back, on our way up to the office. Why wouldn’t this thing hurry up, and why did someone on every floor decide they needed to use it now? People all around us were talking on phones, shuffling files, and discussing lunch plans. The noise grew to a heavy buzz, nearly drowning out the verbal ass-kicking I was giving Mr. William in my head. By the time we reached the eleventh floor, the elevator was almost at capacity. When the door opened and three more people decided to squeeze in, I was pushed farther into him, my back against his chest and my ass against his . . . oh.

I felt the rest of his body stiffen subtly and heard him take a sharp breath.

Instead of pressing into him, I stepped as far away as I could. He reached forward and gripped my hip, pulling me back again.

“I liked that ass against me,” he murmured, low and warm into my ear.

“Where do you—” my voice died out when I feel him lean closer.

He leaned even closer. “Why are you suddenly more pissy than usual?”

“What if they’d heard you?”

“They didn’t.”

“They could have.”