The Assistant

An Act of Desperation

Valencia wasn't sure how long she had been in the shower, but she was surprised to see Mr. Ortiz sitting on the white sofa he had laid her on only moments before. She was sure he would have left the moment he saw his chance. From what Valencia had learned about him from his frequent trysts, he wasn't the type to stick around after sex. Valencia wasn't sure what she expected from the man, but seeing him patiently waiting for her wasn't what she had imagined. Her heart ached, knowing she had just become another notch on his belt, another distraction to keep him busy until the person he wanted returned to him.

A million reasons canvased her mind until the most important one stuck. Mr. Ortiz was a private man, and every woman he had ever slept with didn't know his true identity. Until today. Valencia was still his assistant—and she just let him fuck her in his office. Fear encased her body, and bile had begun to rise in her throat. He would fire her, perhaps even threaten her to keep his identity a secret long after she was gone. Her body stiffened, and her jaw clenched at the idea of losing such a fantastic opportunity due to a lapse in judgment. It was amazing how something could simultaneously feel so good and be such a mistake.

The thoughts made her so dizzyingly nauseous that her body swayed from side to side. Mr. Ortiz jumped to his feet, and the distance between them no longer existed within seconds. He gently grabbed by the arm and guided her to the lush divan. Valencia sat, laid her head against the back, closed her eyes tightly, and took a deep breath. Ignoring the slight thump from a chair, Mr. Ortiz had placed across her to sit in. When Valencia opened her eyes again, she refused to look at her boss. Instead, Valencia kept her gaze on the delicately crafted moldings and recessed lighting fixtures on the ceiling. It wasn't until Mr. Ortiz let out a soft cough that she built up the courage to look at him.

"A penny for your thoughts?" His voice was low and gentle. He leaned forward on the chair, elbows on his knees, and watched her tentatively.

"If I'm being honest, Mr. Ortiz, I'm not sure what to say—or think, at the moment," she sighed heavily, running a hand through her loose, damp, and curling tresses.

"It's alright," he replied softly. "Take your time. I understand that this was—unexpected. For the both of us."

Neither said a word; Mr. Ortiz only leaned back into his chair and continued to watch her. He was placidly waiting for her to speak first. Roman didn't want her to feel rushed or obligated to talk. If she wanted, he'd let her walk out right now and wait for the day she returned to finally discuss what happened, even if it took days—or weeks. It didn't matter, and Roman would wait for her.

"Are you going to fire me?" Valencia blurted.

A soft chuckle rumbled through his chest, "Is that what you're worried about?"

"It's not my only concern, but I suppose it is the one that I'm most worried about at the moment; finding a place that will pay what you do is no easy feat," she clarified.

"No," he replied, "I'm not going to fire you, but I won't force you to continue working for me, either. If at any time you feel that you can no longer work here because of what happened between the two of us, I'd be more than happy to write you a recommendation to anywhere you like."

"Thank you," she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

"What else do you have on your mind? Was I too rough?" His brows creased together, and his eyes searched for an answer.

"What?" Valencia's cheeks flushed. "No," she shook her head, "not at all. It was–" she shifted in her seat uncomfortably and cleared her throat, "it was, uh, amazing."

Roman's head tilted to the side, "Can I ask you something, then?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you feel this was a mistake? I heard you yell in the shower."