What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) by O. Y. Flemming Page B

the new Vikings’
stadium.
    “Well hello, my
events genius.”
    “Hi, Mrs. Wilke, how
are you?” I say as my boss exits his doorway; his face is red.
    “Hey, sunshine. Sleep
in well?” he greets me.
    “Umm, yes, I did.
Here's your lunch.”
    “Oh good, thanks.
What do I owe you?” He reaches into his inside jacket pocket.
    “Oh, no need, you're
good.”
    Mrs. Wilke looks
between the two of us. I can see her mental wheels turning.
    “Mrs. Wilke, if I had
known you were here, I would have called and got your order. I
apologize. It's Friday, and since I was coming in late, I just
stopped because this”—I point to the container Mr. Wilke is
holding—“is his usual on Friday.”
    “Oh, no worries,
love. I'm glad someone can get him to eat healthy and is in tune with
what he likes.” She winks at me.
    “Yeah, Charlotte
likes to cook healthy, no salt, no butter. Yum,” my boss says. Mrs.
Wilke laughs as she pats him on his chest and kisses him on the cheek
while she whispers something in his ear. I've never seen my boss
blush so hard. He smiles and places his hand at the small of her
back. “Peaches, come now; you have a jet to catch.”
    “Oh, not so cocky
anymore, are we now,” she laughs.
    “I am and will
continue to be.” He lowers his hand and squeezes her ass.
    I should not be a
witness to this. “Umm, it was nice to see you again, Mrs. Wilke.”
I turn and make my way to my office. I can hear the two of them
behind me. Oh, my God! It's not gross, but that's my boss. Not only
did I just find out he was checking me out, but he's a kinky sex
addict, I think…
    My day goes by pretty
smoothly. I didn't have much on my plate, but I’ve accomplished
quite a bit. All of my boss's proposals have been verified, and sent
to his investors. I must have been working really hard because I
haven’t noticed my phone has messages, all from Bryant.
    2:42 p.m. – Hey, you, call me when you get a chance.
    3:50 p.m. – Hey, I'm guessing you’re not free?
    5:00 p.m. – Okay, Bria, if this is the game you're playing, I'm done!
    It’s 5:45, I'm leaving in fifteen minutes. I quickly send him a text so he won't lose his cool, more than he already has. To think I was in a fifteen-hour relationship with him. I shake my head; damn, it could be worse.
    5:46 p.m. (Me) Hey, Bry. I'm sorry, was really busy. Trying to fit an entire day in a half one. Call you when I leave the office @ 6.
    Seconds later. (Bryant) :( Sorry, ok ttyt.
    I grab my laptop,
purse, and head for the elevators. My boss left a couple of hours
ago; said he was meeting the missus for a weekend getaway. I get in
my car and link up my Bluetooth. “Dial Bryant,” I speak clearly,
so the name can register. This damn thing will have me calling Japan,
if I don't speak like a robot.
    “Hey.”
    “Hey, how was your
day?”
    “Good, yours?”
    “Ah, it was fine.
What are you doing tonight?”
    “Umm, home, eat,
wine, and sleep.”
    “You want to do that
with me and maybe a new colleague? Well, not the sleep part unless
you need to be worked out again,” he laughs.
    “Bryant, I'm a bit
exhausted by my earlier workout.”
    “I bet,” he says.
    “‘Maybe a new
colleague’, what does that mean?”
    “Yeah, new colleague;
business partner; whatever you want to call it. He has a late
meeting, but he thinks it won't happen.”
    “Okay, what time and
where?”
    “At 8 p.m., at the
Vodka Bar.”
    “Great,” I say with
sarcasm in my voice.
    “What? What's wrong
with the Vodka Bar?”
    “Nothing, nothing.
I'll be there, just let me go home and change.”
    “I'm sure you look
fine.”
    “Yeah, in office
attire?”
    “Sexy office
assistant look, yeah, I like that,” he says devilishly.
    I can hear him smiling.
    “Bryant, I'm going
home.”
    “You need any help?”
    “No, I'll be just
fine.”
    “Are you sure?
Sometimes women need a little help.”
    “I'm sure. I'll be
quicker if you aren't around.”
    “Shit, if quick is
what you