I angrily tore my top off, and the buttons flew from the fabric. I tossed it on the ground and tore my skirt off next. Once it was off, I spent five minutes trying to tear it apart. When it wouldn’t budge, I panted from the workout and threw it somewhere too.

I hated him. I hated. I hated him.

I wanted to SCREAM!

Instead of toying with my emotions as I predicted he would do, he simply told me what needed to be done, showed me how to get started, and then left me alone. Completely left me alone to get it done, and whenever he did talk to me, he spoke professionally without a hint of that sensual Borden from before.

Talk about a clusterfuck.

I spent the day dusting off the cobwebs in my head and navigating through programs. It was a good thing I passed my units in class with flying colours because the numbers came naturally to me. Meanwhile the dick sat next to me and made a round of calls about professional matters. When he was finished, he left the club on business errands and didn’t come back until midday right before I was done for the day.

He’d paced into the office and threw a sandwich on my desk in front of me.

“The boys said you didn’t have lunch,” he said, taking a seat while flipping through a folder in his hands.

I peered at him and waited for the punch-line that he never delivered. Did he seriously get me a sandwich because I missed lunch? Or was there some other cruel reason behind this supposed innocent gesture?

Maybe it was poisoned.

I eyed the sandwich warily, and the smell of ham and cheese wafted into my nostrils. My stomach tightened in hunger. I decided I would wait ten minutes. Ten minutes before I dived in. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking I was going to eat it straight away. I needed to be casual about this and–

Scratch that. I made it two minutes.

It was the best sandwich of my life.

After I finished, I packed away my things and waited for Moustache Man to take me home. While I waited, Borden hadn’t looked at me once. He was too immersed in the black folder in his hands. Seeing him seated there all normal and concentrated and… normal was weird. Very weird.

“Before you leave, write down your cell phone number for me, doll,” he suddenly ordered.

“Why?” I asked defensively.

“Because I said so.”

Wouldn’t a man like him, in control of everything, already have it? I decided I wouldn’t argue with him, though. Maybe that’s what he wanted. I simply wrote down my number and slid it over his desk in front of him. He picked up the paper and placed it over his opened folder.

“Not very nice penmanship, Lynne,” he remarked.

I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply. Whatever, Borden.

“Is that a three or an eight? I can’t tell from your writing.”

“Three,” I strained out.

“Hmm, looks like an eight is all.”

I exhaled slowly and counted to ten.

“Maybe you should write more legibly.”

No reply.

“Do you agree, Lynne? That you should write more legibly?”

Oh, I was going to fucking kill him. I looked at him while he was still concentrated on the contents of his folder.

“I’ll write more legibly if that pleases you, Mr Borden.”

He didn’t respond, but the corners of his lips just barely twisted up.

When Moustache Man opened the door and walked in, I jumped out of my seat and hurriedly grabbed my things. I wanted to get the hell out as soon as possible and I made it three steps when his voice rang out.

“Don’t be so hasty. I expect a good bye before you leave.”

I stopped mid-step and turned to him. “Good bye, Mr Borden,” I practically spat out.

Still looking down, he said casually, “Come over here, Lynne.”

With a heavy sigh, I made my way over to him and stopped beside his desk.

“A little closer than that, doll.”

I took another step closer until I was a foot away from his chair. I looked down at his perfect profile and plump lips that had risen again. It was such a shame someone so handsome had to be such an asshole.

“Now bend over, Lynne, kiss my cheek and tell me good bye.”

All of me tensed. I gritted my teeth as his order ran through my mind trying to quickly find ways to get out of this. If I got anymore closer to him I feared I’d scratch his eyes out.

Hush, hush, came the little voice of logic in my head. He wants a reaction. Don’t give him one.

I slowly bent over, and the smell of him immediately assaulted my senses. He smelled… good. Like juniper and lavender and bergamot combined with something spicy. I had to hold my breath because raiding Borden’s scent felt personal somehow.

The flawless smooth skin of his cheek met my lips briefly. I gave him a quick kiss before backing away. He didn’t flinch at my touch and was still reading. I stood up straight and willed myself to breathe. Nervous tingles ran rampant throughout my body and I had to fight against the urge to wipe my lips of his touch. I didn’t like the way he blurred my senses.

“Now you tell me goodbye,” he said.

With a quavering voice, I replied, “Goodbye.”

When he didn’t respond, I turned away on wobbly legs and left.

Put this on repeat the next four days and that was my first week in the bag. I got my first paycheck that Friday and it was triple the amount at my diner job. It was the strangest feeling staring at my bank account balance and seeing a number I’d never thought I’d see. I felt proud, and not just for doing well at my job, but for dealing with Borden. Someone needed to give me a medal.

If you wanted to discount the demand at the end of the day for me to kiss his cheek (which I couldn’t entirely do), he kept it professional between us. Most mornings he was out of the office, and when he was in, he was making phone calls. Nothing about what he did screamed illegal, everything was ordinary and business related. His reputation as some thug was clearly overdone – that, or he was just damn good at hiding it.

I kept to myself and didn’t converse with anybody. While the employees were very friendly when they saw me, I refrained from talking and escaped any kind of social situation. I didn’t want to trust anyone. I didn’t want to be friendly, either. The only times I left my office were to go to the bathroom or buy lunch at a luncheon down the block.

I saw the redheaded woman – Linda was her name – frequently when I left the office and even when I was in it. I learned on her visits to see Borden she was the manager of the club and that surprised me. I initially thought she was keeping Borden’s bed warm, but their conversations were short and business related. And though she stared fondly at him at times she visited the office, he barely glanced in her direction.