The pen I’m holding beats a rhythm against my desk as Dante goes over what he did with the sick fuck, Marc. I’m reclined back in my office chair with one leg propped up on the other knee. I’m confident in Dante’s abilities, so when he says we’ll have no trouble from Marc, we won’t have trouble from Marc. I don’t know if he would have come after Poppy, but I damn sure wasn’t taking the chance.
“Send the bill to the office,” I tell Dante once he’s finished.
Poppy would probably kill me if she knew she would be making a payment on my behalf to pay for disposing of Marc, even though he deserved it. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he’s not dead, but I bet he wishes he were right about now. It pays to have connections to people that like to trade money for hard working men. Marc’s likely on a plane right now to Morocco, drugged, waiting to be put to work in the hot fields. That may seem harsh to some, but they didn’t see the pictures I saw of the girl he raped and beat repeatedly. She survived, but barely, and she probably wishes she hadn’t, seeing how she’s now living out her days in a mental hospital, her face covered in scars. She ended up pregnant, then stuck a clothes hanger inside her to get rid of the baby, right before she attempted to kill herself. Marc got off after only five years because of some fucked up technicality his lawyers finally uncovered.
I was already in my hidden spot inside the restaurant when the report came through in my email. I damn near marched over to their table, snatched Poppy up, and pummeled the bastard until his face was unrecognizable. The only thing that held me back was she was in my view the entire time. From the moment Marc showed at her house, to the time she stepped into my car, I always had her in my sights. As soon as the car pulled away, I was on the phone with Dante.
I get up from my desk and walk to the window. Yesterday just about killed me. I decided to keep quiet and not communicate with Poppy. I was trying to give her time to come to grips with what happened Saturday. There were several things dropped on her lap. Not only did she discover she was having dinner with a felon, but she also found out I knew where she lived, and that I’d been following her. She still doesn’t know to what extent, but I’m sure it was still overwhelming. It twisted my gut when I saw the panic on her face when she realized I was in the restaurant watching her. Her eyes darted around several times looking for me. I was hidden in an alcove, so I knew she wouldn’t find me. It hurt to see that look on her face. She looked as though she was worried I would hurt her.
When she texted me yesterday, demanding answers, it took everything in me to not respond. I need her to realize that she needs me. I need to give her the chance to miss me. Going silent for a day is my way of testing what she feels. I’m sure she’s probably pissed at me for ignoring her, but she’ll get over it.
I walk back to my desk and run my finger over the mouse on my laptop to bring it to life. I enter her login information into the dating site she uses. A smile forms on my face when I see her account is inactive. I was hoping the date on Saturday would make her realize she shouldn’t be dating guys from a place like that. And a small part of me wished she would close it down for the simple fact that I’m now making an appearance in her life.
I pull up another tab and type in the web address I want. I know exactly what I’m looking for, and once I find it, I put in an order for a rush delivery. It’s time to up my game, and show her exactly how serious I am about being a part of her life.
A couple hours later, there is a knock on my door. I bid the person entrance and Poppy sticks her head in. I’ve been busy with meetings and phone conferences all day, so I’ve only been able to see her a couple times. I glance at my watch and get irritated that it’s already ten till five.
“I’m heading out soon. Do you need anything before I leave?” Her voice is so sweet, and hearing it has my body tightening up. I want to know what she sounds like in the midst of being pleasured.
I close my laptop and push it back on my desk.
“No, I don’t need anything. Come in for a minute and take a seat.”
I can see the nervousness she’s trying to hide when she nods and makes her way to the chair across from my desk. I pull my glasses off and drop them on the desk before I get up, walk around, and rest against the hard wood right in front of her. She crosses her legs and grips the armrests tightly as she peers up at me. I love that I make her so nervous, even after almost a year of working for me.
“How was your weekend?” I ask casually, and watch confusion wash over her face. The expression doesn’t surprise me. I’ve tried to keep all of our dealings strictly business over the last year, not wanting to get too close to her until I was ready. I’m sure that’s part of the reason why I make her so nervous. However, that needs to start changing, because soon it will become very personal between us. I need to ease her into being comfortable around me.
I watch as she takes in my question, processes that I did in fact ask it, before answering.
“It was fine, thank you.”
I nod and tilt my head to the side, assessing her. She keeps her eyes on mine, but I can tell she wants to drop them.
“Is everything okay, Poppy?” I ask, as if I’m a concerned employer. I want to see how much she’ll reveal. She’s been more quiet and reserved than she usually is.
Her brows pull down, like she’s unsure what I’m asking her for. Her face is so expressive. That’s one of the many things I enjoy about Poppy. Her emotions are always easy to read, because she doesn’t know she’s showing them. I can always tell what she’s feeling.
“Yes, sir, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”
I adjust my stance, and when I do, I purposely brush my knee against hers. It’s small, but I hear her take in a sharp breath. Besides a handshake during her interview, and a casual brush of hair off her cheek while she sleeps, I haven’t touched her. I presume my casual knee brush has her feeling the same electrical charge I felt at the contact.
“You haven’t been yourself today. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
She shifts in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs. I can’t help that my eyes follow the movement. Her adjusting has caused her skirt to rise a bit, showing off more of her thigh. When I look back to her, she catches where my eyes were looking and a cute little blush forms on her cheeks. One corner of my mouth tips up. I’m pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t pull her skirt back down.
“Oh. Well, I just had an incident this weekend, but everything is fine now.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
Her eyes widen slightly and she chews on her plump bottom lip, tormenting my mind with images of me biting it.
“No, no. Thank you, Mr. Knight, but everything is okay now.”
I watch her for a few more seconds, my eyes drifting back down to her exposed thigh, before I straighten myself and make my way around to my seat. Once seated, I steeple my hands together and smile at her gently.
“That’s all for today, Poppy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She quickly stands up, her skirt unfortunately falling back into place.