Boss Undercover: Part 1 (Boss Undercover Series) Page 14

  “If it was a mistake, you wouldn’t be breathing like you are, nor would you be willingly allowing me to taste your lips,” he muttered, releasing his hand. Zack composed himself, acting as if nothing happened as he walked back around to his chair. “And yes, I agree with what you said. Keep the presentation relevant.”

  Claire exhaled shakily.

  He was messing with her mind. Whatever was rational appeared illogical. Whatever was right seemed wrong. Whatever was wrong felt right. Whatever she didn’t want to do, she did.

  She slowly turned in her chair. He wasn’t even looking at her; he was looking at their notes, scribbling dotted notes down. How was he so calm? How was he just sitting there? What the fuck was wrong with him? Claire felt insane. She couldn’t even think properly. Deep down, she knew that nagging throb below was beckoning him. God, it was driving her crazy.

  Fuck’s sake, she thought. As if that kiss with Jason could ever compare. She didn’t feel any toe curling, no magical sensation; it felt like nothing. But Zack, sitting opposite her, suddenly made worlds combine, made her feel like she was lacking oxygen.

  Claire stood up. She didn’t argue with her feet. She walked around and grabbed his tie as she forced him to acknowledge her. He did, sitting there, bewildered but not entirely stupid as he spread out his legs further, giving her the space to sit on his lap. She wasn’t thinking. What is two plus two? God, she couldn’t even say. That cologne? It sent her hormones crazy.

  She grabbed his cheeks as she kissed him, intoxicated all over again. He didn’t object, holding his hands around her back as he pulled her closer in. Claire had no control as she grinded herself on him, sliding her hands through his hair as she thrust her own tongue deeper into his mouth. The chair squeaked when she moaned as his hands squeezed her ass. Each fingertip sent her insane; it burned through to the flesh. Claire was no stranger to his member as she felt it, rubbing it with her right hand. She couldn’t even remind herself that they were at work. There was no stopping her.

  Hearing him groan through his teeth as she continued to rub him made her want it more.

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  Claire froze, her lips wet, her knickers wet. She jumped off, flattening her hair down. Thank God these walls weren’t glass. She didn’t mutter a word as she headed to the door, observing how Zack bit his lip as he shuffled about, supposedly trying to get rid of that boner.

  She exhaled and checked herself over again before opening the door.

  It was one of members of the other group.

  “Hi.” They smiled. “Have you got any spare paper?”

  Chapter Twelve

  CLAIRE

  It was possibly the worst thing she could have done. As if she needed to be reminded that once again she had started it. They hadn’t spoken after it happened—in fact, she swore to herself that it wouldn’t happen again. Claire refused to talk about it, so for the rest of that week, she distanced herself. Or tried to. They still lived together and had to work together on the project. The event was brushed under the carpet just like the others. It didn’t mean shit.

  However, as much as she tried, something always seemed to crop up. There was the bathroom incident later that same week. Claire was in the bathroom bathing, and quite peacefully too. She added a bath bomb, set her playlist on her phone, then succumbed to the peaceful serenity of water against her skin. At that time, Zack wasn’t home, and she’d expected to have at least two hours before his arrival—Zack was going to the gym more often that week. She was perhaps twenty minutes in the bathtub, her eyes closed, the distant sound of melody in the background, when out of nowhere the bathroom door abruptly opened. Zack entered: ear-plugs in, sticky sweat against his forehead, and then the worst—a mischievous grin framing his face. Claire screamed, sitting up and covering as much as she could.

  “You motherfucker!” she remembered shouting. Then she demanded he cover his eyes as she tried to reach for the towel hanging off the side.

  “I did call out,” he had said, facing the door. “Promise I didn’t see anything—on second thought, though…”

  Nothing seemed to work. Zack was even intruding into her dreams. She would dream of the recent paragraphs she’d read from a romance book, some cliché cowboy and country girl falling for one another, and then out of nowhere, her mind would slap Zack’s face on the man. It was actually hysterical the way her mind planned things: marriage proposals, hot sex, feisty make outs. No matter what she tried to do, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

  It was Friday. Another week had gone by so quickly. It wasn’t even a little less awkward. Two weeks he’d been in her life and he’d already stomped over it like a baby elephant. It was a lot for one to go through.

  They’d finished pretty early, rounding up their final points for the third slide. The presentation was coming along all right. Zack was actually incredibly helpful at times, and as a means of trying to grip her own sanity, anytime they were left alone in that office, she refused to participate in any eye lingering. Bad choice. She didn’t want last week’s chaos. And more importantly, they had deadlines to meet.

  Zack had been moaning all evening, rubbing his stomach, craving food.

  “I’m fucking hungry,” he moaned once again. Claire was browsing through her social feed on her phone, refusing to give him the slightest bit of sympathy until he suggested they go out to eat. “I’ll pay.”

  He didn’t seem to know exactly where to go, so with a bit of encouragement from Claire, they chose a gastro pub in the centre of the city, not far from the cinema she’d ventured to on her date last Saturday which, speaking of, was painfully nagging her. Jason was persistent, appearing every time she walked in the office’s kitchen, sat in the canteen, or walked outside for a breath of air. The only peace and quiet she got was through the remainder of the day with the devil himself, Zack.

  “So pick what you like. Meal is on me,” Zack said, sitting inches away from her in the round booth. He had his arm draped around the back, looking over her shoulder as he looked at the menu sitting in front of her. Claire was studying it, her mouth watering.

  “There’s too much to choose from,” she confessed.

  “Oh, the choices, choices. What a hard life,” he sneered, snatching the menu from her.

  “Hey!”

  “I think I know what I’m having,” he said, ignoring her squirm of disapproval.

  “Well, I would have, but you snatched it from me, you pig,” she replied, taking it from his hands as she tried again to study the menu. “Blimey, that chicken and BBQ sounds nice. Hm, I really like that other one though as well.” She pointed at the picture. Her stomach growled like mad.

  “Well, how about you have that?” He pointed at what she was considering. “And then, say, me for dessert?” he suggested with a coy smile. There was that boyish charm scuttling with her heart. It’s that smile. That was the secret ingredient. Every time it appeared, it made her knees wobbly.

  She blushed. “Shut up,” she hissed, rolling her eyes. “I thought we weren’t ever discussing that.”

  “We never agreed to anything. Lighten up. I’m not actually expecting you and me to do shit.” He fingered the fork between his fingers before tapping it gently on the oak table. She was looking at it, almost mesmerised.

  “Anyway—” he began, sitting up a little.

  “Can I ask something?” she interjected, toying with the watch around her right wrist.

  “Sure.” He looked directly at her.

  “Would I—actually,” she shuffled a little around on the spot, sliding her hands under her thighs, “be the type you’d go for?” she asked, anxiously biting her inner cheek.

  “Truthfully, no,” he responded, thanking the waitress who returned with their drinks. “But,” he added, “it’s good, if you get me.”

  “Oh, well, that doesn’t mean I’m interested, so—” She stopped as she picked up her pint of cider and knocked a little back, instantly regretting her decision
.

  “I didn’t say you were. Besides, I thought it wasn’t something you wanted to discuss.”

  “It isn’t,” she agreed quickly. “I just was—actually, never mind.” She paused for a second or two, awkwardly clenching her hands around the pint glass. “So, erm.”

  “Well, let me ask you a question. Do you genuinely even like that Jason? Because it’s considered odd if you’re kissing another guy,” he said, sipping his pint of amber-coloured beer.

  She pressed her lips together. “Of course I do,” she lied. “I just haven’t been thinking straight when I’m around you. I think you’re just so good at manipulating me when you—”

  “When I what?” he interrupted.

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s just forget about it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  The waitress returned eventually, taking down their orders and leaving the pair in dead silence.

  Zack broke it, as if he’d used a knife and sliced through thin air. “You know there’s no shame if you just admit that you’re into me. I get it. I’m just that likeable of a character. It’s a first, I’ll admit. Not a single woman has denied it, but I get it. You just don’t want to come across as desperate,” he said, cocking his head to the right.

  “Pssf,” she snorted. “I do not like you. A vain person like you? No chance. Actually, you know, come to think of it, maybe it’s because I’m teasing you. A taste of your own medicine, huh?” She picked up her glass and swallowed another mouthful.

  “Oh, really? Teasing me? My, you should have been an actress then, because you’re pretty good at trying to prove me otherwise.” He slid his hand through his hair as he shuffled a little further back into the seat.

  Claire bit down on her tongue.

  He smirked. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

  “N-o. I’m just thinking…that you’re just a conceited man. And yes, I’m teasing, because if you think for a second I’ll ever have sex with you, ha! Think again! Not every woman wants to bow down at your feet,” she replied, sitting forward as she held the rim of the glass kissed to her bottom lip.

  “Who said anything about sex? I’m just simply pointing out that you’ve been pretty eager these last few times to begin shit with me. Did I? No, I didn’t.” He held his hands up in surrender.

  Claire frowned. “I told you, I’m teasing you.”

  “What is it? First, you’re saying I’m manipulating you, and now you’re teasing me? I’m just saying you’re not exactly convincing me, or yourself for that matter,” he argued, propping one leg over the other.

  “Eurgh, just sssh!” she grumbled, taking another huge mouthful of cider. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t slow down. But it became apparent she wasn’t thinking about that; she was thinking more about the man sitting next to her, who was making her feel like she was going bonkers.

  “Aye, aye.” He shrugged his shoulders.

  “I mean for real,” she interjected, not remaining hushed herself, nor willing to side-track off the subject. “Have you even been in a committed relationship? Or do you just think every woman wants to sleep with you?”

  “First, no. Second, I don’t, I just know,” he replied earnestly.

  “Well, I have news for you, they don’t,” she objected, then she continued, flustered and highly vexed. “And really, you shouldn’t feel good about it. That Casey, or whatever her name is, hasn’t called back. Clearly, you’re using her like she’s using you.” She then proceeded to take another mouthful of cider.

  “Actually, here.” He presented her his phone, revealing the several messages underlined under the name of a phone number. “And that’s the point of casual sex,” he calmly said, “so, chill. Are we done?”

  “Yes. Actually, no. You know what, yeah, I’m leading you on. I’m kissing you because one of these days, you’ll fall for me, and then I’ll drop you, and you’ll see what it’s like—I tell you, watch it.” Claire waved her hand aggressively about, slouching as she already regretted drinking half of the cider.

  The waitress arrived, setting down their meals. Zack had only a second to figure out a reply, though he really didn’t need one with the state Claire was in.

  “Is that right?” he replied, cutting into his steak drizzled with peppercorn sauce.

  “Yes.” She glared at him. “I don’t kiss because I like it—no!” She hiccupped. “You don’t even kiss nice. I just do it ’cause I’m leading—” Claire hiccupped again.

  “Okay, okay, eat your food before it gets too cold, and I suggest we order you a glass of water, you lightweight.” Zack took charge as he ushered the waitress over.

  “Whatever.” She hiccupped.

  Later that evening, she was stacked up against two pillows, arm over her face as she rested her eyes. It couldn’t have been more awkward, knowing you were full-on drunk—a lightweight—from just one glass of cider. What was she even saying? Claire wasn’t that gone because she remembered every little detail. She even remembered receiving the text message from Jason and flashing it off in Zack’s face as she agreed to another date this Saturday, something she immediately once again regretted. Who was she fooling? The Pope?

  “Here, have this,” Zack said, interrupting her thoughts. She sat up, groggily rubbing her eyes as she accepted the glass of water from his hands. “Maybe next time, keep off the cider.” Zack then sat on the opposite couch, grabbing the remote control from off the side as he switched on the television.

  “I bet you’re loving every moment of this,” she said.

  “Of what?”

  “Just this evening. Since day one. You think I don’t mean it, but I do,” she explained.

  “I have no idea what you’re on about.”

  There was a knock on the front door. Three hasty knocks followed after.

  “I’ll get it,” she told him, getting up to her feet. “After all, this still is my apartment.”

  She weakly walked towards the door, feeling tired and a little dizzy. Claire opened it.

  “Abbey?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  CLAIRE

  “Abbey?” she reiterated, blinking twice, maybe three times. Yet who else could it be? Who else could rock a short, bright red pixie cut bob and black cat eyeliner with red lipstick? The only rivalry towards her identity would have to be the horrendous pink leggings matched with a pair of thick red socks, a blue one-shoulder top sparkling with dozens of costume sequins, and green clogs—something Claire was confident the Abbey she knew wouldn’t put together. She looked as if she’d had a fight with her wardrobe.

  Her face was stained with black smudges of mascara. Abbey’s blue eyes shifted from Claire’s to behind her shoulder, implying that Zack wasn’t too far behind. Claire didn’t say a word as she grabbed her jacket with the fluffy hood and shoved on a pair of her trainers sitting near the side of the door.

  “Let’s go talk outside,” she instructed, holding her hand out as she guided Abbey back the way she came. They walked down the stretch of corridor, passing the doors of her neighbours; number 49 always had their television on loud, and number 48, Abbey had once joked she heard the neighbour playing porn. It didn’t seem, though, that Abbey was in the mood for reminiscing.

  Taking the short flight of stairs, they reached the ground floor, and Claire steered Abbey towards the back door fire exit into the shared communal car park. Abbey still hadn’t said a word as she looked towards a patch of weeds growing through the gap in the broken tarmac.

  “So, what happened? I mean, I love that you’re here, but it’s not a good sign when you’re showing up looking uncoordinated with tears in your eyes. What happened, Abbey?” she asked, placing a hand across her friend’s back.

  Abbey exhaled shakily. “We had an argument. I accused Ryan of cheating. I thought I saw messages from that woman he’d told me he knew from college and met at the gym. I was just going on his phone to check the time when I saw she’d messaged him. She’d
put all this stuff asking him if he was with someone, putting kisses all here and there. I started going off, not even acknowledging that he made it clear he was in a relationship until he showed me the message again. I felt embarrassed, so I left, coming here. It took me twenty minutes in the car to get here, and all I’ve been thinking is how stupid I’ve been. What if—if he leaves me or something? I should have trusted him.” She threw her hands in the air.

  “Aw, Abbey,” Claire cooed, pulling her friend into her arms.

  “He’s—he’s been phoning me all night. I’m just too scared to face him right now.” She sniffled, wiping a tear from her cheek as she pulled back from their affectionate embrace.

  “Honestly, Abbey, I know Ryan wouldn’t be the one to cheat. He’ll understand that you’re just upset, that’s all. Stay tonight, and then tomorrow, sort it out with him,” Claire offered.

  “I just feel like an idiot. I acted like an insecure teenager. I shouldn’t have barged out like I did. It’s just so unusual for us. We always talk things out. And I…failed this time.” She held her face into her hands.

  “Now, come on. Tomorrow, you’ll talk things over and you’ll feel a lot better. Let’s get you inside now,” Claire encouraged as she opened the door that led back into the apartment block. “And I know arrangements are a little different now, seeing as your room is occupied, but I’m sure we can work something out.”

  That was probably a good excuse; as unfortunate as this was for Abbey, having her friend back for the night made any possible encounters between herself and Zack a little less possible.

  “So, where is he?” her friend piped up, scanning the central room and the bits of the kitchen she could see from where they stood.

  “I don’t know,” Claire replied, shrugging her shoulders as she guided Abbey towards the sofa. “Instead, let’s get you seated, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.” She squeezed Abbey’s shoulder encouragingly.

  Claire headed into the kitchen, feeling nostalgia tug as she pictured Abbey balancing on a chair trying to reach the secret supply of wine she used to stash behind the packet of crisps and bottles of vinegar. It would be so much easier if Abbey hadn’t moved out.