Business Casual

EVIE

You know that moment when you put on a bit of kohl liner, some mascara, and a bold, fire-red lipstick, and suddenly you feel like the most powerful woman on the planet? That was me today—my first day on the job as the new secretary of Vázquez and Associates.

Sure, it was just a desk job, and sure, it would mostly involve filing paperwork, making appointments, and grabbing coffee. But I intended to rock this position, build up my résumé and references, and get back to owning my own business within a year or two.

The morning-after glow from the hot, anonymous sex last night didn’t hurt either. It was nice to be reminded that I was still sexy.

I arrived ten minutes early and offered a firm handshake to the HR representative who’d conducted my online interview. She reintroduced herself as Nicolette—a serious-looking woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing a black power suit.

“How about a tour?” she offered, leading me around the office. Everyone seemed friendly; people stood up from their computers as soon as we got close, offering smiles and handshakes.

Most of them were men, though, so maybe they were just interested in checking out my white blouse, black pencil skirt, and lengthy, flowing curls.

“To be honest, I was surprised to see your application. You’re overqualified,” Nicolette said bluntly as she led me to the top floor. “It says here that you owned and operated Evangeline’s for nearly six years?”

I thought we’d covered all this in the interview. The second inquiry about my work experience put me on edge, like I still had to prove myself.

“Yes, my floral shop was top of the line. I had to sell the business for personal reasons,” I said. “But I want to thank you for the opportunity to work here. I’m willing to pitch in extra hours and do whatever I can to help.”

“Mr. Vázquez will be happy to hear that,” Nicolette said. “He’s been swamped with the upcoming merger with Lowry’s office, so he may require some late nights.”

“So, why are Mr. Vázquez and Mr. Lowry merging their businesses?” I asked. I’d read about the merger when I was first researching this job, but it didn’t seem like the most obvious move.

Vázquez and Associates was one of the top law firms in the state; once it was officially rebranded as Vázquez and Lowry, I was sure there would be some power struggles between the two CEOs.

“Well, when Mr. Vázquez and his wife divorced, she took half of his earnings,” Nicolette confided, glancing around to make sure we weren’t overheard. “In order to pay the settlement, he needed a cash infusion.”

Wow. So almost exactly the same reason I’d had to sell my own business. Maybe I would have more in common with my new boss than I’d expected.

“He’s been having a hard time navigating all the details of this process,” Nicolette continued, “and with surrendering some control. I’m sure you’ll be an invaluable resource for him—especially since you bring all the knowledge of a former business owner.”

She led me up to a frosted glass door printed with my new boss’s name. “Ready?”

I nodded, so she nudged it open, and I followed her inside.

“Miss Beckett, I would like to introduce you to your new supervisor, our CEO, Samuel Vázquez.”

I stepped from behind her and caught sight of Mr. Vázquez, where he was standing beside his desk, waiting to greet me.

My eyes widened in shock.

My new boss was someone I’d met all too recently. The man who’d bought me wine, licked my clit, and crazy-fucked me in a public restroom.

“Holy shit,” he huffed. His eyes were just as wide as mine.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vázquez…,” Nicolette said, sounding confused. “Are you all right? If this is a bad time, we can come back later.”

Jesus. The last time I felt this surprised was when my ex-husband first asked me for a divorce. My gaze darted up and down this guy’s body like I just had to make sure it was the same person.

He wore a navy-blue suit, which highlighted those same thick muscles that had hoisted me up against the sink last night. I had to admit, even under these circumstances, the sight of him had me feeling a little weak in the knees.

He blinked a few times. “Yeah, I’m sorry, Nicolette. You just, uh”—he approached, wiping away his surprise—“caught me at a bad time.”

“I apologize,” Nicolette said. “I wanted to introduce you to your new secretary, Evangeline Beckett.”

This no-nonsense HR representative would definitely fire me when Tony—I mean, Samuel—gave away our secret. I was never going to be able to get a job anywhere after this. I’d fucked my boss! That had to be against company policy!

I met his dark-chocolate eyes, panicking. He stepped forward and held out his palm, face carefully blank. “Nice to meet you.”

Oh, okay. We were going all Secret Santa on this thing. That was probably for the best.

“Likewise,” I muttered, accepting his hand.

I’d never thought I’d see him again, let alone feel his touch—his warmth.

This can’t be happening.

Our fingers slipped apart, firing a tingle up my spine. I felt an ache developing between my legs, and I clenched my thighs, trying to ignore it.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you two to it, and Evangeline”—Nicolette glanced toward me—“just let me know if you need anything further.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

Nicolette left, closing the door behind her.

I looked back at my new boss, but all I could see was…my hair bound in his knuckles as he forced me to watch myself getting fucked in the mirror—my tits swaying with every thrust of his juicy cock.

The provocative vision seared its way into my mind like grill lines on the finest cut of steak.

“Holly?” he snarled. “Really?”

“Oh, don’t you give me that, Tony,” I growled. “Tony ~Martinez~.”

“Was anything you said last night true?” he asked. “The part about getting divorced…was that just a line to get me to feel sorry for you?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?” I barked. “Maybe if you’d taken the time to interview me ~yourself~, you’d know that yes, I just went through a divorce and that’s why I need this job.”

“And if you’d known that, then maybe, just ~maybe~, we wouldn’t have wound up ~fucking~ over a sink in a bar!”

“I’m a busy man,” he snapped. “I don’t have time to interview secretaries!”

“No, but you clearly have the time to fuck ’em all…” I sneered.

Even as I said the angry words, my mind was full of images of him bending me over his desk and fucking me again, right here, right now. What was wrong with me?

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice going cool. “Sex in a bar bathroom was a first-time thing for me, and clearly it was a mistake.”

Ouch. Asshole.

“Like I told you last night,” he continued, “I was blowing off steam with a few drinks after I heard about my ex coming back into town for Christmas. I didn’t plan on sleeping with anybody. Not till I saw you.”

“Okay.” I sighed. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with anybody either, but I guess shit happens. So, where does this leave us?”

“I can’t afford a scandal,” he said, blowing out a breath.

“And I need the work,” I countered. I hoped he wouldn’t tell me to find a new job. I’d combed through every job listing in Burlington, and this was the only one that even came close to matching my skill set.

“Listen, I ditched your number as soon as I left the bar last night,” I said. “So if you can forget about this, so can I.”

That was a blatant lie, and my slutty little brain knew it. I hadn’t stopped fantasizing about him since I walked in here. But I could at least control myself enough to avoid fucking up the job.

He raised his brows. “What do you mean, you ditched it?”

“Like, I threw it in the trash outside the bar. Because I didn’t plan on calling or messaging you.” This, technically, was not a lie. I did throw that Kleenex away. I threw it away because I knew I couldn’t be trusted not to call him otherwise.

“Oh…,” he said. He sounded as if I’d hurt a feeling or two. “Yeah, uh, okay. Then from now on, we keep things business casual.”

I nodded. “Business casual.”

My new boss led me to the door, opening it to gesture me toward my desk right outside his office.

As I went to sit down, he called, “Uh, I do need your phone number, though.”

“What?” I furrowed my brows. “Why?”

“In case I need you to stop and pick anything up on the way into the office.”

“Oh. Right. I’ll write that down and get it to you by the end of the day.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Thanks, Evangeline.”

“Evie,” I said. “Evie’s fine.”

“Evie,” he repeated, staring a tad longer than necessary. “Okay.”

I sat in my new office chair and watched the dark, navy-blue shadow behind the frosted glass recede.

Great. First day on the job and things are already incredibly awkward. This is going to end really well…