“Wait, today? I thought that wasn't until next week?”
“James called this morning and had to change it.” Balling the napkin, I throw it in the trash, giving her one last smile before I walk out the door.
That smile stays with me. It's there and I feel really fucking good even though I didn't get off.
The meeting starts on time, and I do my best to talk Dalia up. It's important for him to know how much we trust and admire our employees. If we trust them, so can he.
“If you really want to grab everyone's attention, you have to see what our newest design consultant has come up with for you. She's great, seriously, you're going to love what she's done for you.”
“Let's hope so, Mr. Vox.” He plucks a small piece of lint off his suit, rubbing his fingers together to deposit it on the floor as his eyes jump to mine. “Last time I was here, and you tried to get me to endorse your campaign, you came at me with some ridiculous hot air balloon idea.”
“I know, I know, that was ridiculous, and I was reaching for something, trying to force it to work.” Holding up a finger, I lean forward and smile. “But, that was a long time ago, let me assure you, we're not the same company anymore.”
Checking my watch, I'm starting to worry Dalia's getting cold feet.
Sandy's beside me, her eyes set on the door. Her eyes stab the doorway, eager to tear down whatever, or whoever, comes through. There's a pen in her hand, and she's tapping the side of her thumb with it over and over. She seems anxious, edgy, acting like she's been stood up on a date.
Not that I've ever actually seen her date anyone. Sandy's always been too busy with our company. Money, success, that's her significant other. Nothing more.
Even back in school, she was always so obsessed with her image and popularity that she didn't have time for a boyfriend.
What's her deal?
I watch her for a moment, trying to figure out the source of her tension. It can't be Dalia, her work's been better than most of our employees spanning the last three years. And Sandy's been happy with what she's seen from her. At least, I assume she is; because she hasn't fired her yet. That must mean something.
Her tapping moves from the back of her hand to the table. It's getting louder, faster, more disruptive and noticeable.
Reaching over, I touch the top of her hand, causing her to stop suddenly. Her eyes glance to my hand, then slowly lift up to mine. Arching my brows, my mouth folds into a heavy frown.
“What?” she mouths quietly, her lip curling angrily to one side. She's trying to be subtle, so the client doesn't notice our little standoff.
Enough. The words sit inside my head, but she hears me loud and clear. Dropping her hands into her lap, she lets out a low growl.
Knock knock.
We all shift our eyes at the same time to the door. Dalia is standing still, holding a folder tightly against her chest. She dips the tip of her toe into the floor nervously, twisting it back and forth.
I don't blame her for being so reluctant. There are three of us staring at her, three people who hold the cards. All the power is right here, staring her in the face.
She's like a deer in headlights, standing frozen, her eyes huge as saucers. Afraid to enter, unsure if she has permission, and waiting for the invitation.
Or maybe she doesn't want to enter, maybe she wants to run in the other direction. Or maybe, she's still frazzled from out little tryst in the break-room. Her cheeks still appear rosy and her skin is still holding a dewy glow.
I did that to her. A sense of pride fills me with the thought.
But I see her nerves too. She's anxious and intimidated, wishing she could shrink down and disappear.
Dalia inhales a deep breath, and everything I saw is gone. She shakes it off with a smile, straightening her back as walks proudly into the conference room.
Rising to my feet, I smile. “Ah, here she is. Our secret weapon.” I hold out my hand, flipping my fingers for her to come right up to us. “James Darion, meet our new top artist, Dalia Greene.”
As if she morphs from one person to another, Dalia walks directly up to him, confidence pouring from her like water. “Mr. Darion, it's so nice to meet you.” Holding out her hand, she waits patiently for him to take it with that cute little smile.
That fucking smile. It gets me every time. Even right now, in the middle of this meeting, my mind goes instantly to her lips wrapped around my cock. How warm her mouth would feel as it slips down my shaft, how wet her tongue would be as it glides over my skin. I want to see her cheeks hollow as she sucks my entire length deep, taking what she can until I hit the back of her throat.
Dalia stops me from seeing and hearing anything else. She's my fucking drug. I'm not sure I'll ever get enough of her.
“Please, call me James.” He stands, taking her hand with a firm shake. “The pleasure is all mine.” His voice cuts through me, and I hear a flirtatiousness that makes my jaw clench.
A fierce heat explodes in my gut, and my instinct is to jump up and knock him off her. It comes from nowhere, taking over my insides, filling me with jealous rage. But I don't react, I swallow it down, taming the beast.
Releasing his grip, he runs his hands down the edge of his navy blue blazer, and sits back down. “So, this is your secret weapon?” he asks, twisting to look at me. “This girl is going to take my brand to the next level?”
The moment he releases her
