Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They were at her door. Dim illumination from the overhead light had given the corridor a soft, romantic glow. The light reflected off her glasses when she turned her head off to the right, momentarily at a loss for words. There was a silence in the air, filled with the tension of not knowing what to say next.

She seemed lost in contemplation, reflecting on something that had caused a slight grimace across her face, before again reaching for her bra strap and beginning to thank him once again for dinner.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorr-“

She jumped slightly when his fingers touched hers, lifting the strap out of her hand. With expert grace he slid it up back across her shoulder, his fingers making contact with her skin the whole time. He knew it would’ve been just as easy to pluck it right back into place without that touch, but he had wanted to. Whatever voice was in control of his mind had taken the reins and went with it.

With a gentle press to her shoulder, he saw a pink flush rise up from her cheeks. She did that all too easily. It was a reaction he never got tired of seeing.

“I’ve wanted to fix that all night.” He confessed, bringing his hand up to gracefully caress her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“Thank you for a lovely evening. We should…do it again sometime.”

Her teeth pulled on her bottom lip just a bit. It was all he could do to not bring his thumb over and gently massage it. He could imagine how her big doe eyes would close, a little moan would escape, and her head tilt back….

“I will see you tomorrow Samara.” He purred. “Sleep tight and pleasant dreams.” He retracted his hand, tucked it safely in his pocket and began to step away. He tried to maintain a nonchalant pace, a cool demeanor, as if this was nothing more than an ordinary evening.

“Wait.” She called out softly.

He froze.

“I was going to…make a pot of tea.” She stammered. “Would you like to stay and have some?”

Stay.

There it was.

The invite.

If he refused, it would knock her confidence down a peg, that he had been helping her build day-by-day, the one he had seen shine so brightly tonight as she gushed over her game and the phone app she was also currently working on. All night she had been a blossom of conviction and self-assured pride. He couldn’t have been more proud of her.

What if he did take the invitation?

After that handsy farewell, could he really refrain from finding another reason to touch her? Those bare shoulders-which he’d only seen once before, in his office as she shivered in a coffee stained tank top-were drawing his attention, just as much as dipping neckline had given him the glimpse of her cleavage. He was surprised she even owned such a revealing blouse. She had picked skin tight jeans that hugged her like a layer of paint, something he couldn’t help but notice as he followed her up the stairs, her taunt bottom literally right before his eyes. Paired with that flowy, silky, swishy little top that left nothing to the imagination and he was glad there had been a table between then most of the night.

“Unless you think it’s too late in the evening for that?”

He smiled to himself, feeling his resolve breaking.

“It’s never too late for tea.” He replied, turning around and retracing his steps back to her. The look on her face told him that she had worried he’d refuse. As if he could. She pulled her house key from her pocket and slid it into the lock. It took her a moment to turn it over, seeing as she had to use her left hand since the right was still bandaged. He was hoping that when she did unbandage it for work tomorrow that it she’d gain more flexibility and her father could stop fretting.

He had only taken a minimal, momentary glance at the interior just a few hours before, but now he could leisurely observe the surroundings of Samara Young’s inner machinations. Bowser bounded over to him happily, excited for Round Two of pets and scratches. Charles acquiesced as Sam filled the kettle and put it on the burner.

Of all the breeds of canine in the world, she had the ONE that reminded the most of home. Even as a half breed. He’d seen Corgi after Corgi throughout his childhood, especially the famous ones joining the royal family on their outings. After doting on the dog he stood up and saw Sam unravelling her bandage.

“Something wrong?” he asked, immediately concerned. My God, I’m beginning to act like her damn father. He suddenly realized.

“Got it wet.” She answered, finally freeing her hand. Truth be told, he hadn’t actually seen the wound yet, only bloody gauze and fresh gauze around it. That moment in the clinic had been one of vulnerability for the both of them. After the spat between him and her brother-which had Jay’s fiancé all riled up to his amusement- he had taken hold of Sam’s left hand in a show of comfort, sharing his fear of needles to ease her distress.

Only to have her nearly break all four fingers in a clutch that left him praying in his native tongue.

“May I?” he inquired, reaching for her hand. She turned away, trying to hide her right hand behind her. “It’s best you didn’t see it.”

“Oh pish-posh,” he admonished. “It’s just a little cut-My God!” he gasped when she opened her palm to reveal a slash that ran from one side of hand to the other. “Beth ddigwyddodd y fuck!”* he cried, eyes wide in unexpected shock.

“Charles!”

He hadn’t realized he’d taken the wounded hand within the both of his, pulling her closer toward him and had leaned down quite close. The proximity had shrunken significantly. The red line of torn flesh looked hideous, angry, something potentially detrimental to her being able to work with her hands.

“Just WHAT did you cut this with?” he asked softly, acknowledging that he’d all but yelled in her face a moment ago. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t expect to see something like this.”

She didn’t want to tell him it was that lovely purple vase of flowers he’d given her on her official first day as his assistant. She was still trying to find a replacement online with photos she’d taken of the largest shard. But lying was not one of her strong traits.

“G-glass.” She stammered, trying to ease her hand from his hold. “Broken glass.”

The kettle began its high pitch whistle.

“Charles, the tea…” she pleaded.

Her tone reached him, his hands finally released her. It felt difficult to do. Somehow, he just felt compelled to hold her and even to kiss her hand. Had that kettle not sounded off, he may just as well have. It was becoming clear to him how there were so many willing to protect and coddle her. Samara had this endearing talent to pull others into her bubble of warmth. She was sweet and kind, talented and beautiful-despite what she thought of herself.

“I’ll take care of it.” He said, his hand holding her elbow. “After all, tea is my specialty.” She smiled at his joke. Even though she had wanted to play hostess, she found it charming that he’d offer. She had walked over to her couch and sat down, Bowser hefted his plump butt to join her and get petted as they watched their guest make his way around her kitchen. He had found the mugs, the tea, and the sugar. Then he opened the fridge and retrieved the milk.

He was aware he had an audience, though he remained focused to the task he set himself with. Her kitchen was small, as this was presumably a one bedroom flat and held only the minimal accoutrements. She had things well in order, no unnecessary appliances and décor to get in the way. Finding everything wasn’t even a challenge. In no time at all, he had their mugs prepared and once again found him serving her.

Funny how that played out.

He joined her on the curved white couch, Bowser snugged against her leg. He reached out and gave his dark fur a little scratch. Bowser rolled over and gave him his belly.

“You certainly have your way with animals. Marshall couldn’t have gotten away with that.” Samara mused before blowing on her mug.

Charles chuckled. “Benjamin befriends every animal he meets; I’m surprised to hear there’s one out here not swayed by his charm.”

“Oh Charles, this is good.” She sighed. “I’ve never had tea with milk.”

He loved hearing that little sound from her.

“But Marshall came on too strong. He scared Bowser when he first met.” Charles could imagine that happening. Sometimes the kid didn’t know how to contain himself. Amusing as it was at times, it was also tiresome. He had Bowser giving a throaty grunt with just a few strokes.

“Did you ever have dogs, Charles?”

He took a sip. “Actually, yes. My family was renowned for breeding and showing Corgis in the Westminster Kennel Club.” He placed the mug on the coffee table and looked at her. Her face showed absolute attention, she wanted to hear more. “It was how my parents met actually, how they made a name for themselves, a good portion of their income. Naturally, all the dogs they raised over the years were given top priority care….maybe a little too much.” He added, not even knowing why.

“Like how?” she asked, rubbing Bowser’s ear.

“I wasn’t really allowed to play with them. If the dog got hurt, it could mean the difference between a win or loss at the show. I couldn’t feed them my table scraps or even walk them.” Somehow, the words just kept coming out, despite how he felt about the memories. “It got to a point where I knew I wasn’t on equal ground as them; it was my parent’s passion after all.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s business.” He said darkly, the answer he was given in his youth.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She replied softly.

His reached over and took her hand. “I could have simply lied and said ‘no’. But you said you wanted to know more about me. I guess I should’ve shared a happier memory.” He flicked some hair away from his eye. When it wasn’t slicked back, he found that the natural part had more on the left side than the right. He pushed back his glasses a tad and rubbed his thumb across her hand.

His keen sense of sight had earlier told him that the flowers he’d given her were resting in a different glass though he hadn’t mentioned it yet. He didn’t see the vase anywhere. He had chosen purple, believing it to be her favorite color as she wore it so often.

Bowser rolled over and jumped down, shook himself, and marched to his water bowl. Now there was nothing left between them. He felt a little shiver run through her, giving enough momentum to ruffle through her sleeves. Her hand felt exceptionally small in his hand, and he made care to not touch the tender palm.

“Samara…did you not like the vase I chose?”

Her eyes widened. She was not expecting him to ask about that! Her body started quivering harder as she fought for what to say.

“If not, it won’t hurt my feelings. I just wanted to know.”

Her lips parted, but her voice was so low even he barely heard her. Even still, he was unprepared for her answer. The vase broke.

“What happened?” he inquired, lightly pulling her hand to rest upon his knee. She sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you. I was coming up the stairs, I passed Marshall, and he didn’t look well at all. And then…” her voice trailed off, her eyes started to turn glossy.

He waited, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

She lifted her head upwards and looked him in his pale blue eyes. “He started to collapse. I dropped the vase and grabbed him. I got him safely back to his apartment; I was texting Link to come over and began cleaning up.” The she flipped her hand palm upwards. “And this happened.”

His eyes grew wide. He’d been given two answers with that one question. He didn’t mind so much about the loss of the vase-it was replaceable-but knowing her hideous gash was caused by his gift caused a twinge of pain in his heart that ran deep. She had been so forthcoming, he admired her honesty.

“Samara…” He cleared his throat. He felt it thicken with emotion and quelled it so he could speak. But when he parted his lips, he found nothing in his eloquent linguistic vocabulary that could put to words just what he felt, what could comfort her, and what could explain the emotions swirling in the tiny space between them.

“I was going to look up a replacement.” She confessed. “Just in case you would ever….visit or something. I just didn’t think it’d be this soon.” Her eyes dropped as she gave a weak smile. A shrug of her shoulders and a sigh followed. “But, now you know.” When she looked back at him she felt a warm flush spread through her. He had a look upon his face that was so tender, so….loving…that she almost felt ready to faint.

He brought her palm up to his lips, gently kissing the healing cut.

It was such a soft sensation, a tender touch, that it almost felt electric.

“It amazes me,” his voice husky and whispered. “Just how caring you are for others.” Not only had she prevented Benjamin from potentially breaking his neck in a fall, but to avoid hurting his feelings, she was trying to replace the vase. It was just glass. A simple frivolous gift and nothing more.

“It’s one of your most endearing traits.” He removed his glasses, and then brought her hand up to his cheek. Her fingers brushed the side of his face, finally getting to see what it was like to be on the other side of it. She loved the way his hair felt. As her hand traced the outline of his jaw, he had lowered his arm, then placed it on her hip and suddenly pulled her into him.

“Oh!”

He gently removed her glasses. They were placed on the cushion right by his, at their legs. He finally traced his thumb along her bottom lip, indulging in that act he’d been wanting. She did close her eyes and softly moan. He moved his hand along to her jaw, as he brought his lips to meet hers. It was gentle, soft and welcoming. He’d imagine himself going in for a kiss at the door, rather than caressing her cheek, thinking that would be enough for now. Oh how wrong he’d been.

Seeing as receptive as she was, he suspected that’s exactly what she’d been wanting, and then suddenly came up with the invitation to tea to lure him in. The little minx. That innocent charm had snared him good. This was a side of her he’d only dreamed about seeing one day in the future, after he helped her gain enough confidence in her to go for what she wanted. He never expected it to be this soon.

Feather-like, she traced her fingers down his neck, causing him to stir in ticklish reflex, a sensation that been all but forgotten. None of his recent lovers had ever touched him so gently, even when it was their first time together. Adaptive as he was to his partner’s needs, it was quite nice to have someone treat him so graciously. He’d been so lost in playing a role he’d forgotten what it was that initially turned him on, what he wanted from a woman: to just be cared about.

He slowly leaned into her, gradually pushing her onto her back and sank into the couch cushion beneath her. Both sets of eyewear clattered to the floor in a soft tumble of plastic and wire. The sound triggered Bowser’s curiosity, who came bounding over to sniff and investigate, finding nothing wrong. Although he placed his paws on the couch and poked at Charles with his nose. The man chuckled, breaking off his kiss to his mother.

“I should’ve known you’d have yet another bodyguard.”

As if Samuel Young wasn’t enough to intimidate most men away from his daughter. As if Dr. Jay Young wasn’t enough to intimidate most men away from his little sister. As if her friends, especially Link, wasn’t enough to intimidate most men away from their precious bespeckled brunette. In the confines of her home, there was one last dragon guarding the princess.

Samara turned to Bowser, petted his head. “It’s ok boy.” She reassured. Bowser nose booped at Charles again, who in turn also gave him pets and reassurance. Satisfied, he went to go snag a chew toy on his little bed. When Charles and Sam met each other’s glance again they chuckled at the little intrusion. He pressed his forehead to hers, entwining his fingers with hers, just breathing in this feeling, knowing it was fleeting at best. He wasn’t right for her, it wasn’t right for him to be doing this, but why did it feel so right?

“Samara…” he hesitated.

“I know.” She replied. “You have to go.” There was such a heavy layer of regret in her voice. “There’s work tomorrow.”

Ah yes, there was work tomorrow. It was a Monday evening after all. How had that little nugget slipped his mind? Leave it to her to remember an important tidbit such as that. But, knowing there was work tomorrow was still not a strong enough reason to compel him to let her go. At least, not yet. He trailed his lips from her cheek down her throat, eliciting a gasp and a shiver, before resting on her clavicle and suckling a spot. I really shouldn’t be doing this either….He thought to himself, but Practical Charles wasn’t charge right now. Impulsive Charles was at the helm, steering his ship into forbidden waters. There was a treasure waiting just around the bend, all he had to do was make his claim. She covered her mouth with her scarred hand, muffling the moan emerging beyond her control, not wanting to arouse Bowser’s instinct to protect.

“Oh Bunty.” He smirked, “you are making it difficult for me to keep my composure.”

“You’re…the one…” she took in a breath, “causing me to…make that sound.” She retorted.

“Indeed I am.” He smiled with pride. “It’s music to my ears.” He paused to watch her regain her breath, see the pink in her face to gradually subside. He had gotten her a little too worked up. “Are you alright?”

She nodded.

“I believe it’s time we both stopped.” He said, matter-of-factly, “Tonight has taken an unexpected turn.” He released her hand, pinned into the fabric of her sofa cushion. He let his hand drag across the area he just marked, the back of his fingernails creating enough sensation to cause a stir and shut her eyes.

If he didn’t stop himself now, he’d end up using that suave charm of his to his advantage. A night of leisurely pleasure would not be worth the heartache it would cause later, when she’d believe herself to be in love and her father would throttle him with his bare hands. Could he convince her that what was here was nothing more than mutual physical attraction? Momentary lust? A casual fling? Not tonight. Not right now. If anything, they’d wake up tomorrow and both feel awkward at first but agree to just remain the close working partners they were and not speak of it again.

He helped pull her into a sitting position, tucked hair behind her ear, and then retrieved both their glasses from the floor. They both huffed on the lens and shined them with their shirts, and set them in place at nearly the same time. It was then followed by light laughter. Charles had never shared a moment like that with anyone before, it was oddly refreshing, him knowing someone else also had to do the rituals involved with eye wear.

He stood, and then offered his hand for her. She took it and rose to her feet. “Thank you…for coming in for tea.” She said shyly.

“It was my pleasure.” He brought her hand up his lips. “Although, I’m sure you enjoyed it too.” He smirked devilishly.

She blushed vividly, looking off to the side. The front door seemed so close, a brutal reminder that the night was coming to an end. She turned back to him. “I won’t say anything at work.” She suddenly said boldly. “Any hint of a rumor of what happened will set my father off.”

“I appreciate that Miss Young.” He responded, automatically falling back into routine. “I’m rather fond of keeping my head attached to my body.” He joked. No but really, if someone had even so much as said ‘oh they’d make a cute couple’ it’d bring the hellfire of an overprotective father unlike anything before.

Bowser, noticing both humans on their feet, immediately trotted over for attention. He sat at Charles’ feet, beseeching Round Three of Pets and Scratches.

“Needy little fella.” The man said, squatting down for the final round. He had the pup rolling and whining and thumping the floor with his hind foot. For a moment, it was as if he was a kid again, playing on the floor with the newest litter, before it was time for them to start training. Sam watched him with a heartwarming smile. She was beginning to think that this beautiful Welsh man was actually incredibly lonely. The way he conducted himself with her, with her dog, and with how he was in public all evening…she honestly felt that THAT was the True Charles. No slicked back hair, pressed shirt, polished shoe floor manager who delegated orders and intimidated with an icy stare.

That was the armor.

But the man before her now, who so lovingly played with her dog and gently kissed her just a moment before had been relaxed and honest. He had smiled and laughed and shared a little of his past. He’d been concerned for her injury and even felt partially responsible for it. He’d been himself. But only mostly. There was still something hidden beneath a thick layer of ice. She knew she wasn’t receiving everything tonight, but this was a wonderful start. She’d been gifted with just enough this evening. When Bowser was well satisfied and a puddle of fur on the floor, Charles stood up and felt a surge of warmth in his chest. The look Samara regarded him in was enough to bring a man to his knees. It took determined willpower to not swoop her up in his arms and decide to stay the night. He felt a little embarrassed actually, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I really should go.” He said in a slight awkward tone.

She merely nodded and began the unbearably short distance to her door. Her hand rested on the knob for a second, she took a breath, steeling herself to open it. She could feel his presence behind her, his eyes piercing and icy gaze at her back. If she looked back at him, what would she see? She had no idea that his hand was slowly reaching upward, just about to make contact with her shoulder, when she turned the knob and yanked it open. His hand shrank back instantly, he stepped back as the door swung its arc, it was already backing down to casually rest at his pocket when she finally brought her head up look at him.

There was an awkward silence. A heavy pause once again.

What was there to say that hadn’t already been?

A ‘goodnight’ had already turned into ‘stay for tea and make out’. What would this ‘goodnight’ lead to?

He inhaled and took that step, passing her and the threshold, out into the dim corridor once more. He turned and looked at her. She looked as she had before when he had arrived a few scant hours ago, save one little red mark on the collarbone. He simply smiled and gave one nod of his head, hands in his pockets-who knows what trouble they’d get him into elsewise. She looked at him with that slight blush across her nose, her hair coming undone from the little bun it had been tied in. Her hand came up to shift her glasses and then held onto the back of her neck. She had that nervous energy again, where the weight of everything felt too much for her, where it seemed a thousand eyes were scrutinizing her every move. As if she was standing before a panel of judges of a competition that was filmed before a live studio audience. The little tremors were creeping out as she bit her lip again.

“Samara.” He called to her softly. His hand reaching out to pluck the one off her neck before she dug her nails into it. “There’s absolutely nothing to be ashamed about, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Her eyes shifted to the side. “I’m the one who invited you in…so yeah, I was asking for something.”

“No Samara.” He corrected. “I’m the one who knows better.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I definitely didn’t listen to my conscience tonight. This is on me.”

A little muffled squeak emitted from her, her shaking getting stronger. “Am I….am I bad…at kissing?” she asked so innocently he felt a direct pull on his heart. A literal fire melting away the ice he’d protected his heart in.

That was it. He was undone.

He stepped back into the doorway and pulled her arm to wrap around him. When she looked up he cupped her jaw and met her lips with his own. “Kiss me Samara.” He ordered, his lips pressed directly onto hers, so she felt every word vibrate through to her core. Their glasses clanked against each other, the delicate lenses making tiny scritch scritch noises until he released her jaw and swept both pairs off with expert grace. He held the eyewear between his fingers as he tickled the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Her hand was pressed on his back, the other was daring to run through his hair. A growl escaped her, surprising them both, but she was feeling desired, admired, and womanly for once. Her back suddenly met the door, his body pressed against the front of her, stepping just a bit more back into her apartment.

He pulled his mouth away, giving her time to catch her breath before she’d have an asthma attack. He didn’t stop though; he went back to her neck, down to her collarbone. When she caught her breath, she gave the most delicate little nibble to his ear that nearly sent a shockwave through him. He responded with a nip of his own, loving the sound she made as an answer.

If I don’t somehow put a stop to this, I’m going to cross that line, Practical Charles suddenly announced, getting through the lustful haze fogging his brain. He took in a breath, steeling his nerves, and pulled out of her teething hold.

“Does that answer your question?” he panted, straining to put some distance between their mouths. She looked just as enthralled as he felt. She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I have to….I must…” he breathlessly mumbled.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“You realize what could happen if I don’t go…right?” he weakly asked, praying that she become clear-headed faster than him, so she could say ‘No’ and send him packing.

“I do.” She whispered.

I do.

The words struck a chord in him, sucking him back into a memory that was once cherished, but now taunted him in nightmares. The girl before him was gone, replaced now with a face he tried every day to forget. When he felt her hand move on his back he jumped. The fog lifted and he clearly saw the reality before him. He took a step back, releasing all the hold he had a moment ago. He immediately slipped his glasses back on, and then handed Samara back her own pair. “We can’t continue this.” He said, his voice coming back into control, heavy with that tone of authority.

Sam didn’t know what had just happened. Did she hurt him somehow by biting him? Were her skills that bad it had turned him off? She wearily shook her head, her neck moving it neither up and down but it a myriad of all directions. “S-sure.” She managed to whisper.

He saw her struggle. God damn it, I’ve done it again.

“It’s just…me.” He blatantly spoke. “Trying to be responsible.”

Responsible.

The word resonated within her. He was her boss after all. He had a reputation to uphold and duties to perform at work. They had to maintain a steady working relationship as manager and assistant, hard to do if they were also secretly dating. Something would happen sooner or later, there’d be a slip up at work, a wink or touch that would send the message clear around the water cooler. What then? She had understood the message loud and clear. With her head clear, her breathing steady, she nodded. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and popped her neck a little.

“Thank you though.” She replied softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” Her assertiveness surprised him and he straightened his back. It was time to be professional again. His hands were back in their pockets, nails digging into his palms. Hard.

“Yes, Miss Young, you are welcome.”

She stepped away from her door and began to slowly close it, all the while their eye contact unbroken. But nothing more was said, no other touches exchanged. No other movements made. It clicked with a shut, and the knob twisted with the turn of the lock. A muffled thump and shudder of the door told him she was leaned against it, using it to support herself. His legs remained locked, rooted to the spot until he knew she safe from his wandering hands once more. He wanted to say something, but honestly had no idea how well the sound carried here, even a slight whisper could reverberate through the walls. He turned on his heel, the sole making a scratching sound before his steps softly echoing down the hall.

Time moved in fugue state since he left her apartment complex. As if he was on Auto Pilot, his moves mechanical and extremely focused, as if every streetlight turned green, as if every car had just known to get out of his way, he found himself home before he knew it. His key turning in the knob, the sound of it shutting echoing through an empty apartment. He dragged a hand through his ungelled, shaggy hair and slipped off his taupe colored V-neck shirt. It flew towards the hamper and clung desperately to the edge. He sat on the edge of his bed, kicked of his shoes and slipped out of his socks. He rested his elbows on his knees, leaned into his hands and grabbed fistfuls of platinum blond hair. He took in a long draught of air and held it for the longest time. It released slowly, painfully.

What the FUCK did I just do?

He stood up and slipped out of his pants, tossed them to the hamper and pulled out a pair of pajamas. He tried clearing his mind by just focusing on the task in his hands, and noticed they were shaking ever so lightly.

Get yourself together sir; this is nothing you haven’t dealt with before.

He flung back the comforter and slipped in between cold sheets, in the middle of large bed, in a sparsely decorated bedroom, with nothing around that emitted any warmth. Nothing except, the memory of Samara Young. Her soft lips, her warm skin, her luscious hair… He remembered the whole evening like scenes from a movie; their dinner, their dessert, their walk up to her apartment, the little touch of her shoulder, her cheek…and that longing look in her eyes.

Yes, he caused that.

He didn’t have to touch her, but he did. He didn’t have good excuse to explain why he did it. He didn’t have any excuse not to either…

Practical Charles had tried walking away.

Impulsive Charles stayed.

Practical Charles talked about his childhood and drank tea. Like a good boy.

Impulsive Charles had seen an opening and went for it. Naughty boy.

But even when wrapped in the warmth of her embrace, that little nagging voice still told him that he was crossing a line, opening a cookie jar he had no right even looking at. But, how sweet the simple taste…

Fuck.

He laid there, arms crossed behind his head, face flushed and body hot. He ached to be touched, to reach out and touch her, to feel her in his arms again, to breathe in the scent of her skin. Hear her little breaths that she took in between their kisses; sink his teeth into her tender neck. Inexperienced as she was, she still persevered with her own moves. She wanted to experience just what pleasure could be had between a man and a woman.

He knew it. He could have had her if he had just pushed the right button. She had no idea what game she was playing, just how dangerous it was to invite a man into her home-even one she knew, or thought she knew. She had no idea how close a call it was tonight. Not that he’d ever been tempted by a lovely woman before, far from it, but there was something different about Samara Young. She wasn’t just any lovely young woman. She possessed qualities she was unaware of and downplayed the ones she knew she had.

The sheltering bubble she had been raised in kept her from experiencing many a thing that someone her age had ought to by now. A first kiss….

He shot upright. “ O fy duw ffycin.”

He had just taken her first kiss.

He slumped back against his pillow, overwhelmed with the weight of that realization. His heart felt ripped open; bleeding and freezing and burning all at once. Two hands were touching his heart. An icy cold hand from his past; a fiery warm hand in his present; both reaching for the same goal.

But my heart isn’t worth giving to someone like her. It’s too broken; pitifully glued back together with pieces missing. She needs someone who hasn’t been broken by Love, who hasn’t lost the hope of a happy ending. Someone capable of giving themselves; fully and wholly, without fear. Not me.

He rolled over and clutched a pillow. It was hardly a suitable substitute. He closed his eyes and pretended he was leaning against the chest of that nubile little brunette. His body was quaking just so, his manhood throbbing with lust, but he had no right to pleasure himself with the thought of her. He buried his face in the pillow, his eyes moist.

It dawned on him just how alone he was.

He left his family, his hometown, his country behind. He was a foreigner here, an oddity, something exotic to the American girls who read romance novels and their book-to-film adaptations starring British actors. He had no problem getting laid-it was too easy-but being loved?

Never again.

He couldn’t take it. Not if it wasn’t whole and true, not if there was a hint of dishonesty, not if her eye wandered the moment he wasn’t by her side. So far, he’d seen not one woman that roused him capable of those simple qualities. Everyone always wanted the next thing even before they were finished with what they currently had. Cheating spouses made great drama on tv, on dating websites, gave private eye detectives a run for their money. The divorce rate was as high as ever, and he was a statistic among the many. People counted their marriages like collector cards, almost bragging. The vows weren’t sacred anymore. Love wasn’t meant for some people.

It had been a long time that he had laid in bed like this, wrapped in self-loathing, sinking into despair. It had been exceedingly long that he curled himself into a ball and just wished his mother was there to run her fingers across his hair and comfort him. It had been so long that he’d played with a dog and had tea with someone. Little things no one would ever think a grown man needed.

But could there be a certain someone capable of giving him those things? The way she looked at him, as if those doe eyes pierced straight to his soul, straight into his brain and could see the thoughts within. The girl who always put others before herself, whose loyalty to friends was as fierce as tiger protecting her cubs. The young lady whose innocence was endearing and charming as well as entertaining.

“Samara.” He murmured into his pillow.

Chapter Text

Tuesday morning was just another weekday in the office. Predictable, routine, boring old Tuesday. At least for 98% of the employees of Young Technologies Co. The remaining 2% had their whole world shaken to the core. Today seemed like the beginning of a new chapter. There were two moments, everything that had ever happened up until last night, and now, everything after.

At least that’s how Samara felt as she slipped into a form fitting green dress given to her by her mother. There had been a slight struggle getting it over her breasts, but it tied around her waist just fine. She shimmied in it to get reacquainted with it. The last time she’d put it on was when her mother playfully slipped it over her head, just to see how much her little girl had grown. Well, she had definitely grown since then-especially in one particular area. She stepped out of her room to show it off for approval by Monica.

“Oh girl, you are gonna turn heads so fast their necks will snap.” She gleefully chirped, finishing the bow with finesse and smoothing down the fabric. “I am So Glad I caught you before you scurried off to work with what you had on before.”

Sam shrugged and made a scrunched face. Because Monica insisted she change, she had missed the bus, so the beauty guru placated her with the promise of a ride to work. She slipped her feet into cream colored flats and grabbed her bag.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to let me do make-up?” Monica asked for the third time.

“I don’t need make-up today.” Sam replied, leading them out of her apartment. She locked the door-left handed-and followed in step to the click of Monica’s heels. “I really appreciate the ride though.”

“Think nothing of it.” Monica swished her ponytail and sauntered down the stairs. Her earrings clinked with every step. Her heels clinked with every step. She practically had her own theme music, as every Boss should. “Come on kiddo, you’re too quiet. I wanna hear all about that hot date of yours.”

Sam smiled at the words: hot date.

“Well….”

.........................................

Charles rarely overslept. He rarely slept in on the weekends either. So he found himself in a hurried daze after hearing his alarm and rolling over to see he was already fifteen minutes behind schedule. The comforter flew upwards, the pajamas fell to the floor and he flung his closet open. He selected a lavender button down shirt, maroon sweater, a tie to match, and tan slacks.

He shook his head, swearing at his own self incompetence as he slipped into his slacks and tucked in his shirt. With well-rehearsed muscle movement, his had his Windsor knot in place, clipped it to his shirt and topped it off with the sweater. He tied the laces of his loafers and then grabbed the jar of his trusty hair gel and brushed his shaggy locks into smooth, pristine lines. One final glance in the mirror reflected a well-groomed, stylish and poised corporate manager.

I wonder what the Mirror of Erised* would show me. He mused. Was this how he really wanted present himself? Not that he didn’t look good, not that he could complain. But as he pushed Sam to dress more business-like and she questioned the fundamentals of the clothing, he took in to account just how very different he presented himself at work, and how he had last night.

He said casual, expecting her to revert right back into the oversized cardigan and loose shirts she had so often worn to work. He figured that his non-formal aesthetic would put her at ease, not to be outdone with her shoulder baring silky top and tight jeans. She may not have noticed, but several men glanced her way when they entered the pub.
He slipped into his car without breakfast and began the drive. While the ride home last night may have been a blur of lights in the dark that passed by in a blink, the opposite presented itself this morning. Someone was always five miles too slow, wavering between lanes, stopping suddenly. He growled and gripped the leather of his steering wheel. He’d love nothing more than to just call it in and make up for the lack of sleep, but he had no decent excuse to leave the staff short-handed so suddenly. He rarely got sick enough to start using that excuse regularly, plus, he’d already phoned it just last week to finish playing her game. His stomach made an audible growl; he prayed there were still some granola bars in the break room.

No matter how he had tried, he would not be punctual today. By the time he did storm into the office, there were already hushed whispers between the cubicles and at the receptionist desk. Lucy greeted him with her usual cheer to be met with a close lipped smile and a curt nod. He marched right up into his office and flipped open his laptop.
“Just let today be normal.” He prayed before he heard a soft knock. “Entrez-vous.”

He heard the soft lull of Samara’s voice asking to go over something, which he immediately responded before looking up, asking if she had slept well the night before and was caught off-guard by the pale green dress hugging her so tightly it left nothing to the imagination. She had one hand on the knob of the door, weight resting heavily on her left leg so her hip stuck out, the other arm behind her, just a tip of paper sticking out.

“If I’m to be completely honest, I didn’t sleep well at all.” She answered.

She stepped inside. She looked slightly nervous but determined, bringing the papers around to the front of her. When he complimented her dress she explained it had been passed down from her mother and had possibly shrunk. She didn’t feel one hundred percent secure in wearing it but with the advice Monica had given her the night before and this morning, she carried herself a little higher.

“But it looks like you didn’t get much sleep either.” She added. Charles pretended to not be slightly unnerved by her keen observation. He’d carried himself in the same fashion as always, not a hair out of place. What was his tell? “Not that I blame you.” She smiled with a little blush. “But, on to business.” She exclaimed quickly, handing him the paper. “It’s a proposal for I wrote for a possible job. I was hoping you could review it.”

Her forwardness was astounding, so much in fact that he felt like their roles had switched for a second. His hand slowly and tenderly grasping the sheet. “Yes, I would be happy to look it over and get back to you.” He placed it atop his briefcase and turned back to her. “Anything else?”

“No, I already have a jump on something at my desk so I’m going to get back to it and let you catch up.”

What, what?

Startled at the very notion that he needed to ‘catch up’ he stood up as she had already turned to leave. “Wait a minute, aren’t you forgetting something?” he called out. Something felt off.

She looked at him. “I don’t think so.”

“Your daily Self-Love routine? Have you forgotten?” he chuckled, expecting her to flounder and regroup.

“I’m not doing it today.” She said flatly.

He couldn’t mask the surprise in his eyes. “And why not?”

She stood, hands on hips and shot him a hard glance. “Because today, I’m fine. And I don’t feel like being the clapping monkey just because YOU want to hear something that you can tease me about.”

The words slapped.

“I beg your pardon?” He crossed his arms and looked at her sternly. Had he really just heard that from her?

“Oh don’t play innocent.” She replied. “You do it all the time. Any little thing that unnerves me you end up using later as ammunition for your amusement. You think I don’t keep track?” She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. “So today I’m calling off the little puppet show.”

She could have pulled a gun and shot him and it would’ve been less of a shock than this. Where did this side of Samara come from? There was fire! Sass! A firm posture and a power stance, a voice strong and clear.

It was damn sexy. But scary.

He unlocked his arms and came around his desk to meet her head-on. She didn’t back down an inch. This was different from her protective confrontation over Lucy, she wasn’t giving in. Realizing that he couldn’t intimidate her with his height, he sat on the edge of his desk so they were eye level.

“Samara,” he said in a whisper. “Is this because of….last night?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Charles.” She smirked.

He craned his neck to the left and regarded her with suspicion. Whatever feelings he had left her with once he departed had boiled all night, and there was something quite curious about this newfound defiance.

“What’s going on here?” he demanded firmly.

“Other than you’re wasting precious minutes with this interrogation over nothing.” She tossed her hand nonchalantly in the air. “After all, wasn’t this the end goal anyways? Little mousey Samara speaks her mind?”

He reached out and took hold of her arms. She didn’t even flinch.

Where was his little sweet Samara? What did he do?

“Charles.” She warned, “Anyone could come in here and misread this situation.”

“Let them. I wanna know where this….THIS-” he emphasized with a little shake “Came from?”

Samara looked at his baby blue eyes, so crystal clear and curious. His blond brows were dipped with concern; there were little lines creasing in his forehead. He’d never looked like that before. Good, she had his attention.

She leaned in just a tad. “Because I saw the real you last night Charles. The man without the polished armor and you’re not all that different from me.” She whispered. She felt a slight tremor through him, striking a chord.

“W-what are you talking about?” he rasped.

“Ah ah ah.” She said, waving a finger. “Not all the answers at once. If you want me to love myself so badly, then why don’t you do it too?”

He felt a punch in the gut that had nothing to do with missing breakfast. The last thing he ever wanted to do was the Self-Love exercise he had to do in therapy. When Gwen ripped his heart out and left him a broken man, he sought out professional help to ease his suffering. His therapist taught him to find things to love about himself. Things that no one else needed to love him for, no matter how miniscule. It was the most difficult thing he could do, each day, just one thing, when it felt like he had nothing but an empty husk of a heart left.

He couldn’t believe Samara was throwing it back at him, and so quickly too! They’d only begun this routine a week ago! She was just a seedling, suddenly bursting into a mighty tree as if by magic. He shook his head. “No Miss Young, that exercise is meant for you-“

“But how I can believe that you can help me if you don’t give me something to show for it?”

“What?” he choked out in a ragged breath, “Do you want from me?”

“I want you to tell me something you love about yourself.”

A heavy silence weighed between them.

The ball was in his court.

Their eyes spoke volumes, mutely screaming what the mouth could not say.

“It’s not so easy, is it?” she answered for him, raising her arms out of his weakened hold. His hands fell to his knees. He looked…lost.

She glanced at the door, no one was nearby. It would be hard to explain this to anyone. When she turned back to him she knew she had won for the day. “If you don’t mind now…” she trailed off and starting backing away, when she reached his door she cocked her head just a little. “Maroon looks good on you.” She said, and closed the door.

Her heart thundered like never before, a heat had rose from her chest all the way up to her ears, but she walked calmly and steady back into her office and shut her own door. She leaned on it for a moment, letting out the breath she had held the whole way. Her body slightly trembled, from exhilaration. Liberating; to speak one’s mind. No wonder Charles was so fond making little speeches.

Back in the General Manager’s office, a man sat at his desk, his chin resting in his palm, fingers covering his mouth as he wondered just how he had been blindsided and verbally overpowered by his underling.

........................................

At her desk, Samara pulled out her phone and opened up the text message icon. She pressed the name Monica and started a new message.

Sam: omg I did it! U should have seen his face

Monica: I knew you had it in kiddo. Go easy on him for the rest of the day; I don’t want to get you fired. LOL

Sam: I know u don’t get gamer terminology, but you are the Ghost to my Guardian

Monica: ??? ok I’ll take it as a good thing.

The day was productive-for Sam at least. She was on fire. On top of the ball on every task. The day was a breeze. She had even finished a few things ahead of schedule. Her co-workers couldn’t help but notice a major shift in the balance of power today either. Sam was everywhere, looking over this, assisting with that, giving the seal of approval on something else. All the while, Charles mostly hid in his office unless his presence was absolutely needed. He was curt and matter-of-fact as meandered to the break room for sustenance.

Umed came in right behind, humming a little jaunty tune. He took the coffee pot and filled it with water and refilled the machine’s tank. “Man, I kinda miss having Sam do this.” He said. Charles felt an angry tingle run along his back as he looked for the snacks. Where the fuck were the granola bars?

“She got pretty good at making that perfect cup, am I right?” Umed chuckled, tapping his fingers along the countertop. The drilling sound it made just irritated him even more.

“Please stop.”

“Hmmmm, hmmm, hmm.” Umed continued.

“Umed.” He said darkly. “Stop.”

His fingers froze in mid-air. “Sorry man, I-“

“I don’t want to hear it.” Charles snapped. “I want to know who ate the last of the fucking granola bars!”

Umed’s jaw slackened with shock. Not only was raising his voice out of character, but so was the use of language. Charles realized it immediately and retracted his earlier aggression. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten yet.” He said while loosening his tie just a smidge and then storming off to his office.

“Wow, who poked the polar bear today?” Umed mused as the machine released its beautiful dark liquid into his mug.

The ‘polar bear’ was in retreat, pacing in an icy cave. Today had just gone from bad to worse with every hour. In hindsight, he should have just stayed in bed, finally lost in a dream that wasn’t his to have. Defeated, he sank into his beige sofa and pinched the bridge of his nose. He could put in a call for food, but he honestly couldn’t even decide what he wanted. Whatever spell Samara had cast on him had stolen any bit of charm and confidence he had in reserves. He couldn’t even get a full sentence out without sounding diminished. He was contemplating of actually calling in for real for tomorrow when there was that familiar sounding tap on his door. She had a rhythm when she knocked, a certain weight of her hand, it was a signature.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Yes.”

The door swung open with a little creek, and shut with a gentle click. He heard plastic rattle, and then smelled food. His eyes shot open and he rolled his neck over to see the bane of today’s existence bringing a peace offering. He slowly sat up.

“What’s this?”

“It’s lunch, silly.” She answered in her usual sweet tone, placing the delivery on his desk. “I know you got in late and you really haven’t been yourself today, so I called the pub we went to last night and ordered you a Shepard’s Pie.” She turned and flashed her shy smile. “I asked for a recommendation because you needed a full meal. I remember you said anything was good so I wasn’t worried about getting it wrong.”

He felt the wind knock out of his lungs. First she backed him into a corner and fed him bitter medicine, now this? He felt so weak. She’d found the weakness in his armor and shot an arrow straight in.

“Are you done torturing me?”

She pulled out a bottle of beer and set it by the box containing his meal. Confused, she cocked her head puppy-like at him and stood at his desk, hands behind her back. “Torture?” she echoed. “Unless I’m killing you with kindness I don’t know what you mean.”

He laughed and ran a hand over his face. “Oh come on now, where’s the fire from this morning?” he cracked. “You had me by the balls and didn’t let up. Now it’s like you’re tending to my wounds.” He pulled himself into an upright position, feeling like he weighed a ton. He barely had the energy to remove himself entirely.

“It’s gonna get cold if you take your sweet time…” she teased. “Now I know we’re not allowed alcohol at work, but I figured you needed something a little stronger than coffee.” Then she whispered: “I won’t tell if you don’t.” She walked over to him and offered her hand. He looked up at her, tempted to yank her down into his lap and devour her as he had last night. When she leaned forward, he saw the telltale remnants of the hickey he had left on her collarbone. The cut of her hand caught his attention.

“Left hand.” He said, gently pushing her wounded palm away. She had actually forgotten about the slit in its flesh for a moment. The left hand was offered and he took it, standing up and brushing himself off. But he held onto it when she had started to turn. She was about to protest when she felt his head rest on her shoulder. It caused a little jolt in her, but she stood there and let him. As he was so much taller than her, it was quite awkward and he was a little too heavy.

“CHARLES…..” she protested, starting to buckle. But he snaked his arm around and up righted her, lifting himself from her tiny shoulder. He nuzzled his nose against her neck and up to her ear, feeling her shiver.

“S-s-stop.” She begged, arms pressed to his chest. “We’re at work!” she hissed.

Wasn’t this the very thing they ought NOT to do?

“G-go eat your lunch.” She weakly ordered.

“You are my lunch.” He huskily growled with a wolfish smile.

“I’ll scream.” She threatened.

His tongue trailed down her throat, pulling her hair back so she arched against him. Then he cruelly blew the gentlest breath upon it, sending chills through her. “I dare you.”

She was hopelessly clinging to his arms for support, so the only thing she could do was stomp on his foot. It was effective. He let her go, and she backed up several feet. Her nostrils flared with labored breaths but she wasn’t wheezing.

“Ok, you’ve had your fun. Now eat the darn lunch I ordered for you.” She panted and then backed up to the door as if afraid to turn her back on him. When she left and closed the door, he chuckled, feeling as if the scales had tipped just a little more in his favor.

Samara’s neck tingled as she absentmindedly rubbed her hand where his tongue ran along her skin. Her whole body was reeling from it. But a satisfied smile rested on her lips. Whatever game they were playing today was weird and fun-it wasn’t intended that way but there was no denying it, she had him. She recalled the conversation she had with Monica on the ride to work.

.................................

“He ordered a hot chocolate just because he didn’t want you to get cold?” Monica repeated, red lips making an O shape. “That is the sweetest thing. I’ve never had a man do that for me.”

“It was the perfect thing too; we were right under a vent so it did get a little cold. He told me he gave my game a 10 star rating. I just wanted to burst I was so happy.”

“Generous.” Her viewtuber friend replied, eyes on the road. “Sounds like he either really liked it, or he was buttering you up.”

“No, he really liked it. He told me likes Escape Rooms so he’s really into puzzles and riddles and solving games with clues.”

Her ink ponytail bounced as she laughed. “He sounds like a hot dork if you ask me. If he shared that with you, then you two probably have more in common than you realize.”

“But,” Sam added, “He’s my boss.”

Monica choked for a second. Luckily they stopped at a red. “Girrrrrrl, no way. You went on a date with your boss? Oh this is the kind of thing you only really see on screen. Sexy, tall, smart, accent, games….Is he married?” she inquired after listing a litany of his traits.

Sam shook her head with a shrug. “He doesn’t wear a ring. Never heard him mention anything about any woman in his life.”

“Ok, so then what happened when he took you home?”

Sam let out a happy little laugh. “I invited him in for tea, which he ended up making. We talked a little…and then…he kissed me.” Sam flushed with the memory.

“Hell yes.” Monica praised. “How’d he kiss you? That’s important.”

Nodding, taking in the note, Sam said “Uh, it was really soft. He pulled me into him but then we ended up leaning back-”

“Hold on, who was on their back?”

Sam held up her hand.

Monica nodded with an “Mmm hmm.” Then she gestured for her to continue.

“We stopped after that.”

Monica turned the wheel and pulled into the visitor parking. Once the car was fully stopped, she turned in her seat and gave Sam a full on Girl Power stare. “I told you it would work, but a simple making out session isn’t enough. He might change his mind in the morning and start to tell you that it was a mistake. If you want him, you’ve got to prove to him that you’re worth it. You gotta take control when you see him. Don’t let him do that daily exercise thing today-you are perfectly fine and not a puppet for him to play with, ok?”

“Ok.” Sam said wearily.

“Tell him that he has to do it. He has to tell you something he loves about himself and if he can’t you’re not gonna do it anymore. Take the helm girl and fly with it. If he can dish it, he can take it.”

“Charles can be pretty intimidating, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance to say something like that.”

“It’s your golden opportunity, it’s when you’re alone with him right?”

Sam nodded.

“Just watch, the moment you say ‘no’ to him you’ll have his attention.” Monica pointed a well-manicured nail upwards. “Men love it when a woman is feisty. And if he’s teaching you to be confident, then he’s gonna get what he asked for.”

Score three for Monica being right. The advice last night; the outfit this morning; the advice in the car. The woman knew her stuff when it came to getting men’s attention. She read them like a book. Not that Angela and Vikki hadn’t shared their pearls of wisdom, but Sam had never really been too interested back then. One rejection was enough to know just how much gumption was needed and how bad it hurt. It was just better to focus on school, and then Ruminate, and then Evermake. Romance was foreign and strange to her, fun to read about but honestly something she thought was mostly made up.

And then she met Charles. His rich velvety accented voice and mannerisms was something straight of Rivendell. If he had pointed ears and long hair….She bit her lip at the thought. Did all Welshmen look like that? The land of Sexy. And every woman she encountered thought the same. He turned all their heads, married or not. The whispers she heard from them…He never paid them any mind. No wonder the man exuded confidence in spades; he heard it everywhere he went.

He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I’d let him do whatever he wanted….

If only I wasn’t already taken…

But…he was still so enigmatic. She still knew so little about him. His book was written in code, and she hadn’t deciphered it yet. If she could just get him to open it up…She spent the rest of her lunch break in the break room with the others, all laughing and talking. She had received compliments on her dress, on her performance of work, at the change her co-workers noticed in her. Unbeknownst to her, there was a silent observer, watching his assistant shine radiantly.

Charles devoured the Shepard’s Pie and washed it down with the bottle of beer she had snuck in for him. He was surprised by that bold move. She could literally be written up for that! What had she been thinking? Was that really worth it? He felt so. Was it her way of an apology for how she had acted this morning? Which he was still bewildered by. He could not just let that go. It was unexpected, passionate, and on pointe.

‘I saw the real you.’ She had said. But when? He’d been courteous and gentlemanly enough to make his mother proud-well, up to a certain point that is.

Oh.

He had wrestled with himself the whole night, feeling the tug-of-war between the Ego and the Conscience. The cartoon angel and devil that would appear on the shoulder, each whispering their will into your ear. It was hard to pull himself away. He couldn’t say just why. And he knew the struggle would only become harder. Until a decision was made. A tingle reached up his back, making him turn his head in time to see Mr. Samuel Young, CEO barge in with his larger than life personality.

“Jones.” He said stiffly, like he always did.

“Mr. Young.” He replied with a nod.

“Why are you in the hallway?”

Charles held a finger up to his own lips and mention for his boss to come closer, quietly. Curious, the man did, following the direction the Welsh was pointing. Samuel saw his lovely daughter, center of attention and glowing. Fatherly warmth spread across his face, watching his daughter in her circle of friends.

“She’s been amazing today.” Charles whispered with pride, arms crossed. “Been filling in where I haven’t been able to.”

“She looks like her mother.” Samuel gushed, a hand on his chest. He pulled out his cellphone and snapped a quick picture. He looked at his manager. “She’s really blossomed under your tutoring.” He acknowledged.

The fact that Mr. Young had credited him for something regarding his daughter would be enough to floor him had Samara already not taken out his knees earlier. That didn’t mean he still wasn’t regarded with distrust, but Samuel kept him around because he was just damn good at his job.

“I don’t know what it is you’re doing, but,” the large man clamped a hand on his shoulder, “Keep it up. In no time she’ll be leading the way.”

And with that, their comrade came to an end. Samuel stepped inside the break room to greet his precious princess and Charles remained in the shadows, his pale blue eyes watching intently. He was playing with fire, daring himself to even get as close as he did last night with her. The challenge was thrilling of course; she was the ultimate forbidden fruit.

His boss’s daughter.

His assistant.

An inexperienced beauty.

That was three strikes against him.

Three reasons to keep his distance.

And three enticing temptations…

Chapter Text

Five o’clock had finally arrived. Sure did take its sweet time but nonetheless employees were punching out and heading out punctually. Today’s smooth sailing under Sam’s wing had left the staff with time to kill, lining up at the ID scanner. The hustle and bustle had the energy of a Friday and scuttlebutt among the staff had them planning to hit a bar for after work drinks. Sam declined, as usual, and retreated back into her office to double check before clocking out. Just a few minutes…she promised herself; make sure I get this email sent off correctly.

“Still being productive?” Charles velvety voice wafted into the air.

She held up her hand with one finger pointed upwards, signaling it would just be a moment longer. A few more soft metallic clicks across the keyboard and she was done. She looked up and found her boss leaning on the frame of her doorway, but not actually inside her office. “Just one last thing to make sure before heading out.” She answered, starting to gather her satchel style bag.

“May I have a minute of your time?” he politely inquired.

“Sure.” She answered as she tucked in a folder. “I only have a few left before needing to be at the bus stop.”

“About that.” He said, stepping into the room finally. “I’d like to drive you home.”

She finished with her task and slung the bag up one shoulder. “No need, the weather is nice today.” She began walking towards her door, but he didn’t move.

“Weather has nothing to do with the reason why.” He sternly replied. His hands were lightly tugging on the slit of his pockets. “You and I need to discuss what happened today and it would provide the perfect setting. ” Then he added “My hands would be on the steering wheel at all times.”

“I’m not worried about your hands Charles.” She countered. No, she was worried she wouldn’t be able to keep her bravado up, there would nowhere to run to if she felt overwhelmed.

“If my behavior was any indication of how a well composed man could lose his senses, I fear what could happen to you on the bus this evening. A different type rides from your morning crowd and there’d be no one to protect you.”

“Thoughtful.” She smirked. “Who’s to protect me from you?”

A silence hung heavily between them.

He inhaled deeply as her words weighed heavily on his conscience. He shook his head ever so slightly, disappointed in himself for what his actions had brought them to.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes downcast, he couldn’t meet her eye. “I never meant to scare you….I just don’t know what came over me-“

“I didn’t say I was scared Charles.” She interrupted. She shifted her shoulder and began to pigeon her toes. “I knew you were playing, but… I really didn’t want to get caught. So, I’m sorry I stomped on your foot.”

He lifted his head in surprise. “I thought…”

“I had to get your attention somehow and you weren’t playing fair.” She explained. “There’d be no way I’d scream and risk you getting fired. You called my bluff of course. So, I had no other options.” She flushed with embarrassment. “And now I’ll really need to take that offer, because I’m usually at the stop by now.”

They walked casually to the parking lot in silence. Charles opened his door for her and offered his hand for her to lower himself steadily. The memory of her struggling to get in his car the first day she wore that black pencil skirt still resonated with amusement. True, his car sat a little lower than most so the struggle wasn’t entirely her fault. He started the engine and deftly maneuvered out of the lot and into the rush hour flow.

There was a heavy silence between them. He knew she was waiting for him to start the conversation. Honestly, he didn’t want to have to be the one to bring it up. But it was an elephant to be addressed. He cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve had time to think all the things you said to me this morning.”

“Mmm hmm.”

He turned and looked at her. She was leaning on her scarred hand, staring out of the window, eyes focusing on nothing. Just like the day he had driven her from the clinic.

“Miss Young,” he called to her. “You realize I could’ve written you for insubordination, especially if anyone had come by and heard any of that. I would have to maintain law and order in the work environment, despite I how personally felt about it.” He saw the beginning of her tremors and knew she was trying to not show her uneasiness. “Granted of course, you could have easily reported me for sexual harassment for my actions.” He added, noting that she stiffened and straightened her back a notch.

She turned to him. “I wouldn’t have -“

“You would’ve been within your rights and I’d have been out on my ear, well deserving of it.” Not to mention what her father would’ve done if he got a hold of him.

There was a pause between them, the words swirling in the air and through the vents as he continued driving, keeping his eyes on the road.

“So,” she licked her lips and felt her throat dry up. “What are we going to do?”

“We, my dear, are going to put this day behind us and not speak of it to anyone. Clean the slate and start anew.” He made a turn and exited to another street. “It will save us both from legal actions and personal embarrassment, and more than likely my life.” He added in with a bitter laugh to lighten the mood. “Unless you wish to see your father manually strangle me and throw me into a dumpster.”

Despite the heavy mood, she couldn’t help but laugh. She clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle it but his joke had gotten through to her. She could envision it perfectly, how badly her father would react. Even if he’d face possible jail time for doing so.

Nobody dared touch little Miss Samara Young if Samuel Young had anything to say about it.

And that was the problem.

No one dared.

“Miss Young?”

“Are you always going to call me that?” she softly asked.

“Sorry, old habits.” He said. “I’m afraid I don’t have many options when it comes to addressing you.”

“I could always start calling you Jones.” She teased weakly.

“Oh like the rest of your family?” he laughed. “I think they’d be convinced you finally believe what they say about me.”

“My dad is just overprotective-“

“He doesn’t threaten to deport anyone else working for him.” Charles noted. “Not that it matters.” He took a breath. “I overheard your brother at the clinic. And he’s absolutely right.”

Sam tilted her head in confusion.

“I do manipulate people. I’m damn good at it.” He confessed. “You saw for yourself when we met with Mr. Harris. I manipulated the both of you, and got the result I wanted.” He looked at her. “And you had no idea the entire time. That’s what makes me so good at what I do for the company. But also, that’s what me makes wrong for you.”

She parted her lips to say something but found nothing she could counter to that. It was the truth. He had treated her to coffee afterwards and explained how he had foreseen Mr. Harris coming to that conclusion in their last meet. He had timed it perfectly to bring Sam in as his assistant and lead her into that deal unprepared. Before she knew it they were pulling into her parking lot. She honestly did not live far from the office, which was both a blessing and curse. There was still so much left to say. He pulled into a Visitor spot and set the park gear in place.

“Home already.” She stated flatly.

He nodded, placing his hands in his lap. He leaned his head back against the head rest and sighed. Then brought his hands up and rubbed them over his face and finally though his hair, breaking up the gelled barrier. “About last night…” he began.

“Please, God, don’t.” she begged softly, hands snaking around to her arms. “I-I can’t take more rejection right now. I really like working with you and I don’t want to ruin things between us. I still want to eat fish & chips with you…and have ice cream with hot chocolate. And learn more about where you’re from.” She was trembling again, but speaking her mind openly. He had to commend her bravery.

But a single word stuck out from the rest: More. More rejection? What has little Miss Bunty been doing this past week? Was it with that paramedic? The kid look like he tossed boulders for fun in his spare time, he couldn’t imagine him handling Samara without hurting her in some way. Despite is his practical side telling him it was none of his business; the impulsive side had won again.

“I’m sorry Bunty, but who rejected you?” he asked, kicking himself in the teeth for being such a busybody. His left hand gripped the steering wheel and his right hand reached out and gently caressed her arm.

She shivered to the touch. But she looked at him and sucked in a breath. “My friend, Link. When we left the hospital, we…..talked.”

“And?” he prompted.

“Well obviously!” She shouted with frustration. “What do you think happened? I put myself out there and was shot down. Are you happy now?” She cried, flinging his hand off her arm. “And here you are, trying to do the same thing and I don’t know what it is I did wrong but now all I’m doing is making things awkward between us.” She grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open with a wince, putting too much pressure on the healing cut.

“Samara.”

She had her head turned firmly away from him, face red and eyes nearly ready to burst. She had lost in this battle and was ready to just die.
“I have to go take Bowser for a walk.” She stated and slipped out of his seat with angry grace. She grabbed her bag and shoved his door shut. He had swiftly climbed out of his seat and came around the other side.

“I’d appreciate you didn’t abuse the vehicle. But please, I need to speak-“he softly replied before she cut him and started walking to stairway. He caught up to her and just stayed a step behind as she led the way. When they reached the corridor where her door was they both slowed their steps. Wasn’t it just last night that they had walked here in a different atmosphere? My how a day could change things. He leaned against the wall by her door as she opened her door. Bowser came bounding up, full of happy yips and hand kisses. With Samara bent low, it didn’t take much for him to knock her onto her bottom with an ‘ooph’. Charles came around the corner and immediately helped her to her feet, all while the little chap ran in circles in excitement.

“Why don’t I take him out and you get into something comfortable?” he suggested as he held out both his hands and she pulled herself up.

She still had her back to him. “Alright fine.” She curtly replied. She pulled back the door a little and removed the leash off the wall. Her hand-off was brisk and nearly missed his hand as she had begun walking to her room to change. She never saw the face Charles made, lips pressed tightly and brows furrowed in regret. It was one thing he found that was beginning to hurt him, whenever he has pushed her too far and upset her.

He’d much rather see her with that enchanting warm smile she had so often shared with him last night. He clipped Bowser onto his leash and let him lead the way to the walking area. There was a sign and a dispenser of little plastic baggies to discard the waste in, much to his relief. He pulled one out and after Bowser did his business, he cleaned up the little pile and tossed it in the trash can. Bowser was showing off, doing little jumps and stretches to get Charles to scratch him. He didn’t mind, standing there, looking up where he assumed her apartment was and letting her take the time she needed to redress. It was best that he wasn’t even in the building, knowing that’s exactly what she was doing .

He knew her build, he could imagine it as she undressed, slipping down that pale green dress, standing in a snowy white bra and panties. Try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t interested. Too interested. It’s not he didn’t have his pick when it came to ladies. They threw themselves at him more often than not. He’d seen every color of lingerie, every style of them, and every fabric they came in. Just wanting to know what color she had on was a thought he could not fully shake away as he figured enough time had passed and led Bowser back up the stairs.

Good thing we work on the first floor, she has to climb these at least twice a day. He thought, concerned once again for her health. The fact that her father had shifted their entire department to another floor spoke volumes in not only how much clout he had in the building, but his love as her parent. Her door was ajar, much to his dismay. But before he could get mad and think of reprimanding her, he saw her in her kitchen with a mug in her hands. She had on an oversized sweater that clung sexily to one shoulder and slipped off the other, paired with tight black leggings and thick long socks that gave him flashbacks of that atypical girl-next-door in an 80’s teen flick. Her hair had been tied up into two little low pigtails that made her entirely too adorable.

She rode that thin margin between cute and sexy.

Bowser happily ran around the living room, showing off his leaping skills, but Charles had his attention elsewhere. He shut the door behind him but remained in the foyer. He saw the kettle on the stove, and another mug on the counter.

“It’s not a trap.” She admitted jokingly. “But the offer stands.”

It was always proper house manners to ask the guest if they needed refreshment, just as it was proper house manners to accept. Charles was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay. But he couldn’t let another workday sour like today had if they didn’t resolve what happened. Feeling uncomfortably warm, he tugged a little on his tie and then lifted his sweater up over his head. With it in one hand he stepped into her kitchen and set it on the counter.

“A cuppa tea would be nice.” He replied.

She smiled and pulled out the box so he could select a flavor. It had surprised him, when he first immigrated to the states, just how different the tea selection and production was. Course, America was about ten times bigger than his little country and thus, more variety was needed to satisfy all the tastes of different cultures and regions. Though he didn’t know how anyone survived drinking Sweet Tea in the southern states.

He had opened her fridge and pulled out the milk before he realized he was already acting familiar in her little flat. He stirred his mug knowing she was watching him the whole time. His hands seemed even larger holding her mug. Knowing that mugs came in all shapes and sizes, he wouldn’t be shocked if she had purposely chosen smaller sized mugs for her tiny hands.

Delicate little hands. Soft hands….

He cleared his throat and took a burning sip. It was a kick in the teeth, but what he needed to end his train of thought. They were just standing there in awkward silence, at her kitchen sink, gently blowing on and sipping from their mugs.

“I didn’t know you were such a tea connoisseur.” He broke the silence and then sipped.

“I like that there’s so much variety.” She admitted. “Sometimes you just really want lemon, or peppermint, or even lavender.” She set her mug down. “But you didn’t come in to talk about tea.”

“I did not.” He confessed, setting his mug down too.

“Just say it then.” She sighed, lips quivering. Her hands flexing. He reached over and lightly placed his hand over her left hand. She flinched but didn’t jerk away. She still had her eyes fixed on her living room couch, afraid to look at those soul-piercing crystalline eyes.

“If I’m to be completely honest,” he said, repeating her words from earlier. “I don’t know what I want to do about this.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She took in a breath so she wouldn’t have to speak. But the tremors were still running along her body. She picked up her mug and took a drink but didn’t taste anything. Just anything to not let her voice crack.

“I wrestled with myself all night.” He confessed. “I did something I wasn’t supposed to, and I felt guilty. But then again, I also wanted to do so much more.”

She turned her head that time.

“But I am not who you think I am.”

She waited for him to explain.

“Samara,” he shook his head wearily. “Damn it, I don’t know what you’ll think of me….And the last thing I want to do is hurt you-of all people.” He let go of her hand and turned his back. She watched him press his fingers into his brow and temples as he fought for words.

“Just tell me.” She said in a voice barely above a whisper.

He braced his right hand on her counter, back still turned. “Even if you weren’t my boss’ daughter and my assistant, because that relationship is taboo at best, I have my own….arrangements with certain women that serve just a physical purpose only.” He took in a breath. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the term Friends with Benefits?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded, even though his back was facing her. “I’m not completely innocent to the knowledge of what some people do with each other.”

“But you’re inexperienced to actually doing anything. And I already took your first kiss, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”

“There’d be no way I could ever convince anyone that I didn’t seduce you to get what I wanted. That my years of experience gave me an advantage over an innocent like you.” He brought his head up. “It would look like I groomed you into my own personal toy, because you’ve never known a man.”

Oh.

She stepped up and placed her hand at the small of his back, watching him stiffen and spin around. “I’m not worried that you have more experience than me. If anything, it’s comforting, because you could teach me.”

Her words shook him. “What are you saying?” he asked, flabbergasted.

“I’m saying that I need someone who can teach me. Who understands that I need guidance, and it can’t just be verbally.” She looked up at him. “You’re already helping me in other ways.” Her hand was gently tracing little circles on his chest. “And I trust you.”

He grabbed her hand. “You can’t trust me. I’ll only end up hurting you.”

“But you want…you want me, right?” she so boldly asked, while doe eyes penetrated his soul.

“I’m a man of instinct. I see your slim body in those clothes and I can’t help but fantasize about undressing you. I step into your personal space just so I can smell your perfume, because it lures me in like a Siren’s Song.” He gripped her hand tighter. “Just knowing you’re….untouched, makes me want to be the one to claim you.” He brought her hand up to his lips, gently gnawing on her knuckle. “You invited a wolf into your den Bunty, and you have idea how dangerous that is.”

“I’m tired of being protected and coddled.” She tried keeping her voice firm as he nibbled her fingers. “You talk to me like I’m adult. You pushed me to step out of that crib of a cubicle. You stand up to my dad and brother like no one else ever has.”

“That doesn’t mean I deserve you.” His other hand had cradled her hip and brought her closer to him. “I don’t give myself to anyone. I am not bound by just one woman.”

“So?”

Her word shocked him. He had not expected her to be so blasé about his sex life. He being a total manwhore apparently had no effect on her. “So?” he repeated. “So that means you’d just be a number in my phone, a notch in my belt. I couldn’t give you what you’d want from me.” He placed her hand over his heart and pressed it there. “This part of me,” he indicated his heart. “Is broken. I can’t give you what you’d eventually come to want from me.”

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Do you see now? That I’m not the one to give yourself to?”

“That decision is for me to make Charles, and I didn’t make that lightly.”

“Damn it Bunty, stop making this difficult for me.”

“You’re the one making things difficult.” She leaned into his chest and held him. “Yes, I had a crush on you when we first met. But that was just what was on the surface. Over this past year, over the recent weeks, I’ve come to see you in all the ways you present yourself.”

His hand was stroking her back, listening to her confession.

“You’re the one that kissed me. Remember?” She added as one last reminder.

“Aye, I did.” He agreed with a nod. “And I barely contained myself with just that. I could’ve pressured you into giving yourself to me last night. You know that right?”

She fidgeted with his tie.

“Samara, look at me.” He dipped his hand under her chin, meeting her eye. “You won’t last with me. Sure, it’ll be thrilling and wonderful at first, but then…it will get harder to hide it. You barely hid the mark I left on you last night, and I’m sorely tempted to leave another in quite an obvious place, just to mark my territory.”

“Don’t you see?” she whispered. “That’s….what I want.”

He felt himself harden and flush, like wild electricity was running through his body. She was his to have and do with how he saw fit, the ultimate temptation open for stealing. His thumb trailed upwards and across her bottom lip. He lost count how many times he’d seen her gnaw on it in a nervous twitch. The heat of desire swelled in him like a burning tidal wave.

“I….can’t…” he all but choked out. “I can’t treat you like you’re nothing special.” He turned her head to the side and his lips touched her tender spot of her throat, right under her ear. “I want you to experience everything there is, but with a man who can give himself wholeheartedly to you. I could only give you my body…” his other hand had trailed up her back, resting right where her bra clasp was. “And that just wouldn’t be enough.”

Feeling where his hand was, large and warm, caused a little shiver up her spine and an intense wave of heat from the middle of her chest. She felt intoxicated by it.

“It could be.” She firmly replied. “If that’s what we agree on. You’d still get what you wanted, as would I.”

His face fell into her neck, defeated. He was trying so hard. Not that he could contain his hands, but surely any girl willing to give herself to a man for the first time would want him wholly and completely, and he couldn’t find any more reasons to throw at her. Not if she wasn’t afraid of the rumors, their reputations, the backlash, the disapproval from her family. Not if she wasn’t afraid of being part of a harem in his phone. Not if she knew that this was just the physical thing that he already had with other partners. Hadn’t he wanted that? Couldn’t he be happy with his little Bunty as his newest plaything?

But that would mean an end to their casual meals out together. No little dates where he could gentlemanly escort her into a room and see other men turn their heads. They gone out twice and he had enjoyed their conversations, sharing their love of various games. If she became just another FWB, then that would stop. They’d do no Escape Room together….

“No Samara, I can’t do that to you.” He pulled away and looked at her sincerely. “I can’t treat you like I do the others. They don’t mean anything to me. But you do.”

Saying those words felt like a hot stab in his heart. Painful, but yet also relieving at the same time. Like…like it was a salve to a wound. His chest clenched for a brief moment, he placed his hand on it for a moment, unsure if he was experiencing a mild heart attack.

“Charles?” She looked up at him and placed her hand directly over his.

It suddenly became clear to him. Samara did mean something more to him. Something in fact that he’d not realized since the beginning, he just thought he’d been playing favorites at first, but it came flooding into him in a rush. Him giving her his shirt, the luncheon they shared, the moment she saw his bruises, his caress to her cheek, the computer he gave her, the flowers, every time he held her hand, when he wiped her tears after the painful injection, having her do the morning self-love exercise, him finishing Ruminate, when she confronted him about calling her Bunty and learning what it meant, that moment he saw her when she opened the door last night, every time her bra strap slipped, that moment at her door before when he had tried to walk away…..

Samara Young meant more to him than any woman he’d met since coming to America. More than any woman since the one that broke his heart. She was the kind of girl you took home to meet Mother and your friends would joke about stealing her away from you, and that his father would say she’d make a great mother. The kind of girl he could envision sleeping beside him every night and never be tired of seeing. The kind of girl that without even knowing it had reached in through the ice and melted the wall protecting himself and reignited the furnace.

“I respect you too much to do that.” He finally managed to say. “And in order to prevent myself from crossing the line, I need to go.” He gently took her hands in his, pressed them together and kissed them.

She was temporarily struck dumb. Hadn’t things just turned in her favor? What caused him to suddenly stop? Her eyes were wide with curiosity and confusion. He backed up and placed his hand on her doorknob.

“Wait.” She called out softly. She walked over and stepped in front of him, facing the door. She had her hand on the knob, but froze. “Is this because of something I said?” she asked.

Oh Samara, you have no idea.

“It’s something I’ve just realized.”

She held back the tears and sniffed. Oh please don’t cry yet. She begged of herself. Her hand trembled on the knob but she twisted and pulled, only to be met with resistance. A large pale hand flattened against the door, his body looming over her back.

“Damnit, if you don’t want to be here then why are you-“

He took hold of her shoulder and spun her around, forcing her back against the door, bracing her in place with his arm on the door and the other on her shoulder. The sudden roughness had taken her by surprise to be sure, but the look in his eye was what took her breath away. She’d never felt so stripped down, as if those eyes could see through the layers of clothing she wore. He had told her he already imagined doing so, but she had never seen that predatory gleam. His words from earlier rang in her ears. ‘You invited a wolf into your den Bunty, and you have idea how dangerous that is.’

She felt like prey. But it was….exhilarating. There was nothing else that mattered except what his eyes were focusing on, and finally, they were looking upon her and seeing her as a woman, not some CEO’s daughter, not some homely assistant, not some inexperienced girl pretending to be something she wasn’t.

Before she could say anything, he’s taken both of her wrists, firmly, maybe a little roughly, and pulled them up over her head. Her head tilted back, watching him do this, about to protest when he pressed his lips onto hers. Fiercely, passionately, as if they were his last meal before execution. He bit her. He thrust his tongue inside her mouth. He growled like an animal. She felt his body, so lean and shapely, press against her, telling her he was in full desire. Being pinned, she was unable to do anything back, she couldn’t touch him, couldn’t reciprocate in any way. She had to let herself be the prey in the hands of the predator for this moment. He lowered her arms, bit by bit, still holding onto them firmly until her wrists were level with her shoulders. She flexed her fingers, just able to touch the top of his hands as they held her to the door.

He pulled his mouth away, only to trail his teeth down her neck and to the left shoulder, the sweater leaving it bare to tease him once more. His left hand let her wrist go, only to come to her throat and gently clasp his fingers around, his thumb at the little dip in between her collarbone. Then his right hand released her other wrist and yanked down her sleeve even more, to expose her cleavage and the fading red mark from the night before. He felt her tremble, heard her sharp breaths as she was trying to figure out his next move.

“I’m going to leave a little reminder that I was here, just in case you wake up tomorrow thinking this was all a dream.” He whispered, a playful smile spread across his lips just before he latched onto the exposed flesh of one breast, eliciting a gasp from her and causing her to immediately latch onto his arms as he held her place.

Vampire-like, he suckled the spot and sank his teeth into her, causing jerking body spasms and little cries and whispered begs to stop. Her knees failed her and she slipped, but Charles caught her and pressed her against the door once more, a growl in his throat and his hands pressing so tightly, he was sure she’d have marks from those as well.
He finally let up, watching the hickey blossom like a red flower with purple rims. Satisfied, he cupped her jaw and gave her an ever-so-tender kiss to offset just how rough he’d been a moment before. She could barely register the kiss, her breathing slightly labored. Her face was flushed pink.

“Bunty,” he whispered. “Where is your inhaler?”

She pointed to her satchel bag. But he knew if he stepped away, she’d slink to the floor in a breathless puddle. So he swept his arms under her legs and hoisted her up into his arms. He carried her to the counter where she grabbed the bag, and he continued walking until he reached the living room and placed her on the couch. Once there, she pulled out the trusted life saver and took a puff. She spent a moment catching her breath, all the while Charles watching her intently. She never had asked him why he was certified in CPR or how he knew she was asthmatic, given that she had luckily never had an attack at work-at least not one bad enough for attention. Yet he’d put it all together anyway with that sharp eye for detail he had. It was one thing she was grateful for. It was hard for those who didn’t have respiratory issues to understand just how hard it was to do certain things. Breathing was taken for granted.

“I do apologize for getting carried away.” He said, once her breathing was normal. But honestly, he was taking a secret pleasure in knowing he’d gotten her so worked up. He’d just have to make sure she had it at hand, next time. He knelt one knee on the floor in front of her, looking all the role of a knight kneeling before his Lady. He took her left hand in his and brought it up to his lips. “This time, I really must insist I go.”

“But…” she huffed.

“But this is not over.” He answered. He placed her hand in her lap, leaned over to give her one last little kiss, and then stood.

“But what-“

“Ah ah ah,” he said, wagging a finger like she had done to him. “Not all the answers at once.” But his smile was reassuring. “I’ll see you tomorrow Samara. Rest well, because your boss is expecting you to get back to work in the morning, as usual.”

She nodded. She hated to see him go, but didn’t mind the view as he walked away. He passed the kitchen counter and opened the front door, taking one last glance at her. He didn’t know what to say, so he just winked and made a little kiss shape with his mouth. She meekly waved a hand at him, the other hand petting Bowser who had jumped up on the couch.

He turned the little lock on the knob so the door locked behind when it shut, knowing that once he had stepped out, he wasn’t getting back inside. It was better that way, a physical barrier, apparently the only thing that could him in line. His resolve with her had been tested and nearly broken. He’d never become so undone with a woman before, it was as if she had the very air he needed to breathe when he was with her.

It was painfully obvious now.

He could either continue having his casual flings, or he could have Samara Young. There was no both. She wasn’t to be used and tossed aside, even if she believed she could handle it. Too pure, too true. Her heart was fresh and new, and her body was untamed. Wasn’t it best to put a wild mare in the hands of one who had broken many? And teaching her everything she wanted to know…that could take a while. A long while. Would he get tired of her and decide their deal was through? He didn’t see that happening. But he knew he didn’t want to only be with her behind closed doors. He wanted to have her on his arm, out in the park, next to him in the theater; across the table from him eating ice cream…He wanted to be with her in every way.

He made it to his car and saw his reflection in the driver window.

It dawned on him that he had left his sweater.

Chapter Text

It had been a week since Marshall was released from the hospital and was ordered to rest and potentially try doing yoga. The entire week had been filled with its own drama, everyone trying to adjust to certain changes made in their life.

As for Sam, she was filled with trepidation and excitement about going to work today and wondering what interaction with Charles she’d be in for. He had said, ‘this is not over’ and that he expected her to get back to work, but his way with words always left her second guessing everything. Was he joking, was he being literal….she never quite knew.

Today was Wednesday and she wanted to present herself properly and comfortably for the work day. She had enough of pencil skirts and pantyhose, so she flipped through her closet until she came upon a pair of loose fit slacks, light and airy. They were light blue, a color she was beginning to realize she was fond of. A cream colored ruffled center blouse and a little gray cardigan. There, she could be professional but also comfortable. It was all a matter of matching appropriate materials. She had a perfect pair of gray heeled flats to compliment.

She took a look at herself in the mirror and was actually pleased with what she saw for once. Not a little girl playing dress-up in her mother's’ hand-me-downs, not a socially awkward young lady who had no fashion sense, but a woman ready to work.

“This must be how Monica feels every day.” She said out loud as she pulled her hair into a neat bun. “I think I could get used to this.”

Charles had awakened from pleasant dreams, but still wrestled with falling asleep in the first place. Recalling how he had shoved against her door, arms pinned, totally under his submission was keeping a certain part of him hard and uncomfortable. He had tried thinking of anything else, coming up with far less erotic scenarios, but his mind went straight for the kill. She was the last thing on his mind before succumbing to slumber, and the first thing on it again once his eyes were opening with his first yawn of the day.

‘How am I going to survive a day of work with her?’ he wondered as he began to dress and slick back his morning mess of bedhead. His wardrobe had an impressive collection of crisp button down shirts, vests, slacks, and jackets for work. The other half of it had his preferred casual clothing consisting of loose fitting V neck shirts and jeans. Two opposing fashions for two opposing sides of one man. With himself all prim and proper, he headed off to work.

Anticipation.

If there was one word they both could share, from being miles apart on a path of convergence, it was anticipation.

Charles arrived first, as usual, was greeted by Lucy and given any mail that came by post. She would give him any messages of changes to meetings or calls he needed to make, which gave him several minutes to kill before Samara would walk in. As it was, he had his hands full of papers when there a knock on his office door. He was surprised though, at who entered.

Her short, spiky black hair looked sharp enough to draw blood. Her skin tight red suit drew the eye immediately to her curves. Her look was followed by black heels, with red bottoms. Dark red lipstick enhanced her thin lips. Her nails were manicured and just as crimson as her suit. Her entire image screamed ‘Bad Bitch Walking’ and everyone knew it.

“Miss Lawson,” Charles said formally, bringing his eyes back down to the papers in hand. “This is unexpected.”

She sauntered in with that sashay walk of hers. “I know.” She answered. “I didn’t think you’d take a call.”

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t have.” He agreed, overlooking a line in his mail.

She harrumphed and crossed her arms. Leave it to him to strike a blow like that. But she let it slide. “That’s why I came in person. I figured it was better to say it face-to-face.” And when he said nothing, she wrinkled her nose for a moment, and then cleared her throat. “I admit I wasn’t as receptive as I should’ve been when you called me about Benjamin.”

“You were downright hostile.” He commented.

“You know how I get, Charles, I don’t let people see weakness.”

“Being concerned for the life of your sibling isn’t weakness.” He remarked dryly, trying to concentrate on his agenda.

“Well I certainly felt helpless and I didn’t like it.” She growled, getting frustrated with his lack of interaction. “I didn’t even thank you properly, and I should have.”

He flicked his wrist over to look at his watch. “Well, it’s only a week late. Should’ve sent it by post, it might have gotten to me sooner.”

Shocked at his curt reply, she dropped her arms and huffed. “Damn, can’t you just take a ‘thank you’ with grace?”

“Only if one was given in grace.” He said, and then stood up. “But grace has never been one of your virtues, so this is probably as good as it will get.” He rounded his desk to stand in front of her. “You’re welcome Eva; I trust he’s been well since his release.”

“He has, as far I know. He hasn’t been too talkative.” She pouted, sounding only a little hurt.

He patted her arm reassuringly. “He’s young and fit, he’ll recover quickly. And thank you for your words. It’s nice to be appreciated for a good deed for once.”

“You know,” she purred, stepping into his space, her hands trailing up his arms, “I could really show you how thankful I am, if you’re interested.”

‘Oh I’m sure you could’ he thought dryly, taking a step back from her reach and finding his back against the wall. “Eva, we talked about this.” He sighed.

“No Charles, you talked about it and cut me off without as much as a chance to speak my piece. And that is not fair.”

“Fair?” he snorted. “How was it fair when you started attacking any woman who looked my way? Telling everyone in the fencing club that I was spoken for? When your eyes cut daggers at every woman in the same room as us?” He took hold of her wrist, prying her hand off his arm. “I told you we were not a couple. We never were. You said you could handle that kind of arrangement, like an adult.” He hissed, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Oh I’m the one being childish? She quipped. “You fucking loved it Charles, you know you did. You loved the games we played, the things I wore…”

“You were a toy, Eva, a plaything.” He growled, trying to get off the wall, but she advanced. “Toys get played with and put away. That’s all you ever were.”

She pressed her nails into one of the spots on his chest that she knew she had struck with her rapier in fencing class, the bruises may have faded a bit but the area underneath was still sensitive. He winced as she dug her nails in. This was part of the game they played, her being the naughty school girl to the principal, the mean cheerleader to his nerdy teacher, the unyielding maid to the lord of the manor….

“Using your brother as a pretense to see me is a new low for you Eve.” He hissed through the pain and snatched her wrist. As he twisted it back she threw herself against his chest, lips on his, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He was never one to hit a lady-no matter how much they may deserve it, beg for it, but he was sorely tempted as grabbed hold of her other arm and squeezed.

Suddenly a gasp interrupted their lovers quarrel and they turned their heads in unison to see a very shocked and pale faced Samara Young in the doorway to the office. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Her body began to tremble. An instant later she came to her senses and pulled the door shut, leaving them to finish their business. He heard feet quickly shuffle away.

Eva only smirked in selfish victory, running her tongue along his lip as she chuckled. “Aww, poor thing. Now she knows she doesn’t stand a chance.”

With a mighty shove, he sent her back several feet. Then he advanced upon her and grabbed her throat. Her hands flew up to the one securing her in submission, knees bent as she tried to right herself again. “You spiteful viper,” he growled deeply, “This is exactly why I cut you off, and if you ever so much as touch me again I’ll have you out on your arse and banned from entering this building.” He gave a sharp quick squeeze to get his message across. There was no flirtation, no rough play here. He was making a threat and meant it.

“You’re making a huge mistake.” She hissed, teeth bared and eyes set with hatred, “I’ll have my father-“

“To Hell with your father, your threat means nothing to me. Now be gone before I call security.” He pushed her back, making her land on her bottom in defeat.

Her plans to rile him up; get him all hot and bothered and thinking of her had failed. She was dismissed and discarded, a toy once cherished but now outgrown. The truth stung but it did little to comfort. There was no coming back from this. Tears of humiliation threatened to fall as she got to her feet, her cheeks flushed fiercely. She glared at him as he tenderly rubbed the spot she had inflicted her cat-like claws into and took that minor pain as a small consolation prize.

“You really are a piece of work.” Her voice quivered in both anger and dismay. “You walk around like your God’s fucking gift to women, use them and toss them aside. A piece of shit like you is going to end up dying alone, you know that? There won’t be a soul to mourn you.”

His nostrils flared with his heavy breaths. “I’d rather have no one attend my funeral, than having it filled with fake mourners.” He pointed a finger straight at her. “And that ‘poor thing’ has more kindness and honesty in her pinky than the entirety of you. You have no claim to me Eve.” He walked right up to her, gripped her arm and forced marched her out of his office. He pushed her ahead of him with one last nudge, out into the main lobby, looking ever so much the professional businessman.

“Lovely to see you again Miss Lawson.” He departed with an award winning smile for any onlooker to fall for. Eva was left with no choice but to follow the act but she quivered in barely contained rage and stormed off and out of the building.

Charles sighed and adjusted his tie, masking his seething anger and frustration with a cool demeanor that was well practiced. This was his place of employment after all, he had an image to maintain, a reputation to uphold. No spat with a former lover was going to pull the curtain now. He immediately headed to Samara’s office.

………………

Normally, she would tentatively knock on the wooden door of the General Manager’s office like it was an ordinary day; today however, with thoughts of last night still whirling through her mind, she had not.

And what a surprise she got.

She saw Eva Lawson, all in red and in the arms of Charles Jones, lips locked in a lover’s dance, arms gripping each other tightly. She had him pressed against the wall and eliciting a little moan. When they both turned in unison in response to her shock of sucked in air, she saw fire in their eyes.

In that moment, Sam knew she’d never be on the same level as this woman. She wasn’t even fond of red in the first place. But being so assertive, domineering-things she lacked in spades, made her feel quite inferior. Was this what Charles really liked in his women? Take charge and fearless?

She backed up and closed the door, trying to pretend she didn’t see anything as she walked back into her office, shaking violently so much that her vision blurred. She felt a pinch in her chest, in her ribs, in her gut. Her throat felt thick and her face hot. An anxiety attack was coming, she could feel it. She needed to get away from all this and calm down, fumbling with the knob of her own office door. Never before was she so glad to have this room.

She flicked the light off and stumbled over her own feet to her desk, grabbing her inhaler sitting right on top with her satchel purse. With quivering hands, she pressed the canister and inhaled the spray of medicine. It eased the burning wheeze in her lungs, but not the wrenching pain in her heart.

‘So this is what Charles meant.’ She finally concluded, after all his protests that he was wrong for her; he’d hurt her; that she wouldn’t last… She slunk to the floor in shame, feeling so much the fool that it might as well be tattooed on her forehead. He warned her after all…

Her door flung open, startling her. In a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dark and he saw his dear assistant slumped onto the floor by her desk. He immediately came to her side, one knee knelt before her. Gently, he took hold of her quivering arms and helped her sit upright.

“I know how that looked; I know how you feel right now. And if I could take that pain from you I would. Samara, let me explain.” He whispered as he wiped a tear that slid down her cheek. “I never thought my past would come to bite me so hard, so soon. I had hoped to never have to mention my relations with Eva, it was a chapter I closed but she refused to accept.”

Her body trembling from the fading adrenaline, she looked at him imploringly. “I’m sorry.” She cried. “I thought I could handle you being with others. I thought-“

“I knew you wouldn’t Samara, your heart is young and open and willing to try anything, but there’s no way I would ever subject you to being just another toy.” He stroked her cheek in that familiar way he’d done before. “I decided it was either you or them. And I chose you Samara.”

Her lips quivered into a half-hearted smile, musing that he had unknowingly just made a Pokémon reference.

“Eva thought she could sneak her way back into my bed with the false pretense of thanking me for saving Ben, and when I refused, she literally attacked me.” His thumb caressed her lip so she wouldn’t bite it. “I am so sorry you had to witness that my dear. I know just how bad it hurts to find the one you care about in the arms of another.”

She looked down. His words felt sincere, sad and true. He had experience after all. His few years he had over her had been enough to turn him from an inexperienced youth into a jilted playboy with a hollow heart.

Now that the room had finally stopped spinning, the air lighter, the pit in her stomach no longer pulling her down, she found her voice was clearer and steady. “I believe you.” She answered. “After what you said last night…I…wanted to believe that you had chosen me…”

“Samara, I want more than just your body.” He confessed, gently pulling her in towards him. He tucked some hair behind her ear and gently lifted off her glasses. That familiar blush turned her cheeks rosy. He smiled, loving that reaction. “To think, that I have had you in front of me all this time, and it is only now that I realize what you mean to me, and what I want with you.”

She surprised him by yanking his tie and pulling him towards her, lips meeting in a hungry kiss made salty with innocent tears. She poured everything she had into those two soft curves of flesh, imploring him to feel the same, this incredible sensation of warmth within her chest, spreading like miasma to the rest of her limbs, tingling in her spine and fingers and toes, enveloping her like a tidal wave as she felt him fall back against the floor, arms wrapping around her and touching her, light and delicately.

“fy nghariad.” He whispered as his tongue slipped past her lips and danced with hers. She’d stolen his heart in one fell swoop. Reached in and scraped off the ice and dirt and grime and polished it into a diamond worth cherishing once again. Her little body wrapped in his, giving him such a warmth that he had forgotten existed. He didn’t want to ever let her go, but it was morning and they were at the office. To think of the scene that would come if they were discovered like this….

“Samara, darling,” he huffed between breaths, “It is time we get back to work.” He smoothed her hair from her face and was enchanted with the gleam in her dark eyes. “My dear little Bunty, I believe you just made a pass at your boss.” He joked.

Her smile was genuine and adorable, causing a little dimple in her cheek. “Is the boss going to write me up?” she asked playfully.

Oh lord in Heaven, if only we weren’t at work.......

He sat upright and then stood, helping her to her feet. She leaned against her desk as he walked over to flick the light switch up. She flinched from the light, hand protecting her eyes as she set her glasses in place. When she looked up she found Charles gleaming at her with admiration. She nervously tucked hair behind her ear and turned her head aside, ever so slightly.

So cute….

“So Miss Young,” he crossed his arms and stood erect, slipping back into his professional mode. “Tell me what you love about yourself today.”

She pushed herself off the desk and faced him fully, placing her hands on her hips and her feet apart. He noticed the beautiful cream colored blouse with its ruffle parting down the middle, hiding the curve of her breasts. ‘A well-chosen shirt’ he thought, noting that she paired it with a gray cardigan. His eyes were drawn to her pale blue pants, slimming, even as they were a loose fit. They must either be spandex or polyester, the way they snuggly fit the curve of her bottom and thighs before gradually swaying with curtain-like movement. She had that adorable nerdy librarian aesthetic about her. He found himself wanting to lay her across her desk and remove each article of clothing in a frenzy, watching them fall to the floor before devouring her.

“I think that today, I love that I have someone like you in my life.” She answered. Even with her eyes slightly downcast, she lifted her brow in a sexy wink and half turned up smile.

“Oh now?” he asked in mock surprise. One brow arched in contemplation.

“Yes.” She answered firmly. “It may not be one specific thing, but there’s something there we both feel, and it’s that that I am grateful for. Because whatever it is can only grow in more.”

He loved seeing his little flower beginning to bloom right before his eyes. Samara Young had been kept in a little single terra cotta pot and under a glass dome, stunting her growth until he lifted that dome and uprooted her. He placed her into a wild garden, where there were thorns and beetles as well as rain and sunshine, watched as she flourished and thrived and grew, sprouting her own little thorns. His blossoming rose, unfurling her outer petals, was fast becoming the jewel of the garden.

“Good.” He said, rubbing his chin. “Now keep that attitude up for today, we’ll be meeting a client this afternoon.”

“Another one?” she squeaked with apprehension.

He chuckled. “Yes, but this time you’ll have a little time to prepare, there’s a clientele packet on your desk for you to review. You’ll have a chance to read over the contract this time.”

She scrunched up her lips and crossed her arms, knowing he was teasing her again about their first client meeting. But this time he wouldn’t be manipulating her into making such an innocent blunder and nearly changing the deal. Today he was trusting her to be up-to-date and fully aware of the contract dealings. Even though she wasn’t entirely comfortable with meeting yet another person so soon, she was pleased that Charles already trusted her with this.

“And why don’t we take lunch together afterwards?” he asked, his hand on the doorknob, his lean body posed heavily on one leg. He watched her face light up and the uneasiness slip away in an instant. She nodded in agreement. “Wonderful.” He replied. “I’ll see you in a few hours then.”

He slipped out of her office, gently shutting the door behind him. He took a deep breath, steadied himself and marched back to his office to begin the day’s work. Now that an unexpected drama had played out, it dawned on him that he had let slip a very crucial word in his native tongue when he held her.

‘My Love’

Back behind his desk, he pulled the necklace chain out of his pocket and laid it across the wooden top. He looked at the golden band looped within the confines of the metal links. It was a heavy reminder of the past, a past that was sadly comforting and haunting at the same time. A past that had seemed so promising, so hopeful, with so many innocent dreams for the future-shattered by one treacherous act.

Even though she had broken him, his pieces weren’t completely lost. It was as if Samara had come along, picked up a loose puzzle piece and put it right back in place unknowingly and gone about her day, not even pondering the significance of the act. The more time he spent with her, the more whole he was beginning to feel. His finger traced along the rim of the wedding band, jaw set. This circular piece of precious metal no longer meant what it used to, no longer offered a comfort his fractured heart could cling to for support. He pulled out his top drawer and swept it inside, then shut the drawer firmly.

‘Enough of the past’ he told himself, grabbing his mail and setting it into an organized shelf for read documents and flipped open his laptop. There was a full day ahead and time was already slipping away.