Discipline (4/?)

Previous

Nina Simone:
"That's Him Over There"
"Black is the Color of My True Love's Hair"
"Willow Weep For Me"
"He Needs Me"

The next few days were very busy for me.  One of my top-shelf clients had an emergency and requested my presence, so me and my team of associates boarded the company jet and flew to Atlanta to take care of her problem.  I was gone for a week, but I got daily reports on everything that went down in the office.  Our new acquisition settled quickly into his temporary contract position.  He was fluent in six languages, which served Rothschild, Fairfield & Littleton extremely well because our need for him was for overseas business. One was a buyout in Shanghai, one was a merger in Munich, and there was a probable litigation issue in Tokyo.  It was work that could easily be done out of our local office.

When I returned, I saw that there was a huge blue vase sitting on my conference table, full of beautiful flowers: blue hydrangeas, white alstroemeria, crème roses, white lilies, yellow and white chrysanthemums, and eucalyptus.  In front of the absolutely gorgeous flowers was a large box. 

I knew before I opened it that I shouldn’t have.  But I couldn’t help myself.  I put my purse down on the table and opened the box.  In it were chocolate-dipped delicacies: strawberries, oranges, pineapples, and bananas, and they smelled like heaven.  I grabbed a banana chunk and ate it before I allowed a subsequent thought. There was a card.  I plucked it from between a mum and a hydrangea and opened it.

Shit.

I went to my desk and pushed my intercom.  “Marx, can you please ask Mr. Trahan to come to my office?”

“Will do,” he replied.

I sat at my desk and sighed.  I busied myself with emails, calendar checks, all sorts of nagging business minutiae that masked the utter horror of what I’d done and what I’d have to deal with as soon as he showed up.  Which he did five minutes after I called for him.  He walked into my office and he looked absolutely stunning. It’s not a word I’d normally use to describe a man, but I just couldn’t find anything else that would even come close to how amazing he looked.  That Armani looked like it was cut to fit him.  I had a brief mental image of my secretarial pool passing clean the fuck out when he walked by.

Shit.

He smiled the moment he laid eyes on me.  I smiled back because his was infectious.

“I see you liked my gift.”

“Excuse me?”

He walked up to my desk, and then to my surprise, around it.  He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and knelt so that we were eye to eye.  I side-eyed the shit out of him, wondering what schadenfreude was this?  Why my mind went there instead of any other rationale was beyond me.  He licked the tip of his handkerchief and gently wiped the side of my mouth.  His eyes never left mine and he made sure that his finger touched my flesh.  A spark, a bolt, a flash of something electric jumped from him to me and I was suddenly very warm.

“There now,” he said, his voice low and seductive.  “You had a bit of chocolate on your lip.”

I was mortified.  He smiled at me.  Schadenfreude was definitely the right way to go.  “Kelton,” I began, and then kicked myself.  Second mistake.

“So you can say my name.”  He continued to kneel in front of me. 

My hands, all of a sudden, needed to be busy.  “I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.”

“Now that would be a shame,” he said.  “I want it to happen again.”

He stood up and I looked up at him, suddenly not liking the nearness or the distance.  I rolled my chair backwards and stood up, closing the distance at least six inches.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Mr. Trahan—”

“Come now,” he said, in that wickedly sexy accent.  “You can do it again.  Surely you don’t expect me to take back a used gift?”

I was completely disconcerted.  “What?”

“You were about to tell me that you couldn’t accept my gift.  Except you’ve already eaten a piece of it, so I couldn’t possibly take it back.”

“It’s inappropriate.  I can’t accept it.  I’m your boss.”

“Something you no doubt love reminding people of, I’m sure.”

I bristled.  “I’m just stating a fact, Mr. Trahan.  It was wrong of you to purchase those gifts for me.  We have a working relationship.”

“Please say my name again,” he said.

I took a deep breath.  “No.”

“No one knows who or where he gift came from.  Why not pretend that it came from your husband or gentleman friend, or someone like that?”

“You know very well that I’m not married.”

His eyes twinkled.  “I do.  But what of the other?”

“I don’t care to have a boyfriend.  They tend to be quite…messy.”

He took a step towards me.  “I assure you, Iolanthe J. Rothschild, that I am anything but messy.  Please do not bruise a man’s fragile ego.  Accept my gift.  If you do not, you shall have to make me whole in a different way.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Mr. Trahan.  This was your error, not mine.”

“You are a cruel woman.”  Then he looked at me without that infectious, sinful smile, his voice lower than before.  “But I like it, oh I do like it.”

I wanted him to stop talking.  “What do you want?”

“Have dinner with me.”

“I already told you why that would be problematic.”

“But you won’t accept my gift, which was selected with great care.”

I acquiesced.  “I do like the flowers and obviously, the fruit.  Clearly, you did your homework.  Thank you for the gift, but I can’t—”

“Am I wrong in assuming that men are constantly throwing flowers at your feet?  If that is the case, then I must be working among complete morons.  I simply can’t believe that there isn’t a straight man in this city that you haven’t captivated enough to want by his side.”

I took a deep breath, cursing the fact that the sexy bastard had the absolute audacity to smell good.  The utter nerve of him, working my girl nerves!  He had some sweet game, though.  I know I was blushing…at least a little.  “Half of my associates would be completely demoralized to hear you say such things.”

“No doubt they want the top prize for themselves,” he said, moving closer to me.

“I meant you,” I said.

He smiled in a mischievous way; one that might have hinted at secrets he wasn’t ready to share and I wasn’t quite ready to know.

“Have dinner with me,” he said.  “I insist.  Since you want me to carry my face, those flowers, and that used box of candy out of your office; thereby destroying all of my masculine cred.”

I took a deep breath.  “Fine.  I’ll keep the gifts.   But I won’t have dinner with you, and please stop asking me to.”

He cocked his head to one side.  “Does it make you uncomfortable?  The last thing I want is to harass you.”

I met his eyes head-on.  “No, it doesn’t. I just don’t think it would be wise having dinner with a subordinate.”

He didn’t wince at the not-so-subtle takedown.  “Then have dinner with a friend.  I would very much like to be your friend, Iolanthe.”

He made my name sound like hot sex on satin sheets.  Glory!  Before I realized it, I was agreeing.

“A wise choice,” he said.  “I will even do the proper thing and allow you to choose where and when.”

“No, that won’t do,” I said.  “If you are a man, then be a man about this whole thing.  I’m not going to lift even an eyelash to help you in this foolish endeavor.”

He stepped back, his smile wide enough to rival the Sun’s.  Then he bowed deeply while keeping his eyes on me.  Sexy motherfucker.  “Then I shall contact you with the details.  Outside of work, that is.  May I know your personal contact information?”

“Nice try,” I said.  “You can use the email address you have.”

“Then I will leave you to your business.”  He took two steps towards me, captured my hand and kissed it.  This time I let him linger for a moment longer than appropriate, honestly flattered by the all of the attention he was paying me.  It was like being reminded that you were something fundamental.  “Thank you, Miss Rothschild.”

“You’re most welcome, Mr. Trahan.”

He stood up and looked at me.  “Please.”

“Kelton.”

“Have a most pleasant afternoon, Iolanthe.  You will be hearing from me soon.”

When he left, I walked over to my table and opened up the box of fruit.  Without missing a beat, I crammed a strawberry in my mouth and wished for a glass of wine.  What in the hell had I agreed to???

For those who wish to listen to the soundtrack, I'll post it.  It's not complete; I add to it as I write.

tbc...