Dare Me Not | 18+ ✔

13. Bra Zone (Parker)

I teased Xander immensely with my short skirts and my low-cut necklines to show my cleavage last week. Friday was the worst because I deliberately skipped my bra just to push the game a bit further. I'm sure he checked out my breasts, especially when my nipples showed through my thin top. I expected more reaction from him, but he just reverted his eyes to the road as if he wasn't affected at all. Damn him. The man's hard cell was tougher to crack than I thought.

The fact that it was him, who was standing in the hallway, has changed the whole game. It's like opening Pandora's box. No more turning back. No more beating around the bush.

Once Margie signals me that Alexander is ready for me in his office, I unclip my strapless bra, pull it out of my blouse, shove it into my drawer, and grab my blazer. I want to see his reaction when he realizes there is no other layer of thin fabric between my breast and my black chiffon blouse. As planned, we will be working in his room for the rest of the hours, going through some paperwork and discussing some issues in the field. It will be fun.

"How was your weekend?" I greet him as I walk into his room, ignoring the tickling sensation of my blouse garment rubbing my nipples as I move. Fuck, this is too stimulating.

He glances at me before fixing his eyes back on his screen. "My weekend was good, thank you. I hope you had a magnificent weekend too. Margie has prepared the documents you need to go through on the coffee table. Today, you can bring them to your office if you want. Just phone me if you have some questions or points to discuss."

So, the friendly man I talked to last Friday has died. Now I'm talking to insufferable, cold, and asshole Xander again. "Nah. I think I'm good here," I say, not wanting to follow his suggestion. I stride to his office sofa and I sway my hips in the process. "And I had a fantastic weekend, thank you. No Red Code this time, though."

"Good," he says, eyes still on the screen.

I sit down and cross my legs. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

I shrug before starting to dig into the documents. "I'm not sure. You feel different today. Has something happened? Or is this your default mood for every first day of the week?"

"I don't think I'm following you."

"You know, people say 'I hate Monday' because they're not ready to let go of their weekend yet, because they still want to have their lazy asses on the couch all day long, to get drunk, to get high, or to have a non-stop fucking." I rub my palm over the suede material of the armrest. "Which one is the excuse for your somber face now?"

Xander leans back in his chair and averts his eyes on me. His stare is sharp, but there are still no signs of playfulness, or at least a slight attempt to be friendly. "What do you think?" he asks in a flat tone.

I shrug. "You tell me."

"You can't tell, I see." He picks up his pen, and his fingers fumble with it mindlessly. "But I can tell you are an I-hate-Monday girl."

Laughing at his remark, I reply, "I'm an I-hate-workdays girl."

"I figured," he says. "May I ask how you see yourself in the next twenty years, Parker?"

I tilt my head at the sudden change of topic. I have to say it's something I haven't thought of, since my life has been about surviving year after year. Ironically, my future has been planned by my father, as if I'm his living puppet.

"Rotten and corrupted in this fucking building of course," I say.

"As a CEO?"

"Maybe."