"How come you're not eating?" he asked, ripping me out of my daydream about having to go back to Mr. DeVille and beg for another position after I blew up this one with my stupidity and inability to remain professional.
"Sorry. Just a little distracted today. You know. Monday. I wonder if it's too late to start drinking coffee like the rest of the world," I said in a lame attempt to be clever.
It wasn't clever. It was more like rambling that I thankfully stopped before something sexual popped out of my mouth.
"I don't think I've ever met anyone who didn't drink coffee. At least no anyone older than ten," he said with a chuckle.
With a smile, I said, "It's always been too bitter. I prefer sweeter tasting drinks first thing in the morning. The problem is I tend not to get the benefit of being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from orange juice."
Mr. Tanchen took a bite of pizza and nodded. "Not good for your get up and go."
A tiny spot of oil slowly slid down from the corner of his mouth, so I pointed at it and as politely as possible said, "You have a little bit of oil on your face."
He quickly grabbed a white napkin from the stack of them in the center of the table and wiped around his mouth, but when he finished, a tiny bit of oil was still on his chin. I pointed at his face again, and he repeated dabbing around his mouth with another napkin, but still he missed that single spot.
Frustrated, I picked up my napkin and wiped it without even thinking that I shouldn't be touching his face. When I realized I'd once again overstepped the bounds of office propriety, I lowered my head and focused on my pizza.
But it was no use. My cheeks heated up until I was sure they were as red as the sauce on my lunch.
"I'm so sorry," I mumbled. "I swear I know how to behave in the workplace. I'm sorry."
He didn't say anything, so I ran out of the room and rushed into the bathroom. It was stupid and juvenile, but I didn't know what else to do. That I couldn't stay in there for long made the whole action pretty useless, but at least for a few precious moments, I could hide out and cringe at my behavior in private.
This wasn't who I was. Why did he have such an effect on me? And why, dear God, did my usually sensible mind become lust-filled every time I was around Mr. Tanchen? I didn't even think of him by his first name. I actually came last night with the words Mr. Tanchen on my lips.
I leaned down over the sink and threw some cold water on my cheeks. Clearly, I would be fired today. He was a decent guy, but surely he couldn't keep me around now that I'd shown I didn't know how to act in the workplace. Maybe if I begged him to not tell Mr. DeVille I'd be able to get another position from the staffing agency.
If not, then I'd end up losing my apartment after all.
Looking up at my reflection in the mirror, I cringed and tears began to well in my eyes. God, how could I have behaved like this? It felt like I didn't have any control over my desires when this guy was around. Like something came over me and I couldn't stop myself.
That was no excuse, though. Maybe for a teenage girl, but not for a grown woman who wanted to keep her job.
After hiding for nearly ten minutes, I knew I had to go back out there and accept what was coming. Mr. Tanchen likely waited in the kitchen to fire me, so I stuffed down my emotions and slowly made my way back there, but he wasn't there. My slice of pizza sat on my plate, but other than that and the napkins in the center of the table, there was no sign he'd even been in there to have lunch.
A thought settled into my brain. Maybe he was so disgusted with me that he just planned to contact Mr. DeVille and tell him he didn't want to work with me anymore. I couldn't fault him for that either. Why put himself through the hassle of having to fire me when the guy he was paying to hire people for him could do that job?
I made my way back to my desk for the last time as a knot formed in the pit of my stomach. I'd liked working for Mr. Tanchen. Too bad I hadn't been able to handle myself like a fucking adult.
Disgusted, I grabbed my bag and turned around to leave, nearly running into my boss. He stood staring at me like he couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I got that. I didn't understand either, not that it made any difference.
"Mr. Tanchen, you don't have to say anything. I'll leave and I'm sure Mr. DeVille will be able to get the right person for the job here in no time. He's pretty good at figuring out who belongs with what job."
"He is. The problem is I don't want someone else, Emma. I want you," my boss said in a low voice.
Then before I could say anything to make up for my workplace mistakes, he took me by the hand and led me to a room off the kitchen that I hadn't seen before. He hadn't shown me this part of the house on the tour he gave that first day, so when he closed the door behind us and turned on the light because the blinds covering the windows were drawn, I was surprised to see it was a small lounge with a couch and TV.
Confused about what was happening, I waited for him to say something, but instead he leaned down and kissed me. For a moment, my eyes stayed wide open in shock and I stared at his long, dark lashes as they rested on his face. My mind couldn't process it all—his soft lips on mine kissing me better than any man had ever kissed me, the hardness of his cock pressing against my stomach when he inched closer to me, his hand tightening in my hair and sending ripples of pain across my scalp that turned into licks of need when the sensation rushed through my body. None of it seemed real, but there we were in that secret room with our tongues eagerly sliding into each other's mouths.
When he leaned back away from me, I whispered breathlessly, "I thought you were going to fire me, Mr. Tanchen."
He shook his head and slowly ran his tongue over his beautiful bottom lip. "No. What I want to do with you is the opposite of firing you."
I stared up into his dark eyes, lost in how wicked they looked now, as he slid his hand up under my skirt and teased the tender skin of my inner thighs. My eyelids threatened to close, an involuntary reaction to his touch, but I forced myself to keep my eyes open so I didn't miss a thing that happened between us.
The first brush of his fingertips against my panties made my breath hitch in my chest, and for a moment, I held the air in my lungs while I waited for him to slide his hand under the cotton. He looked up and suddenly stopped, making me say a silent prayer to God that he hadn't changed his mind about what was about to happen.
"Emma, I've thought about doing this since the first day you walked through my door," he said low and deep as his fingers drifted over my skin, leaving a trail of need in their wake.