The Pull

Chapter 7

"Very nice to meet you, Ms Bower", Ben said as he unfolded those beautiful, long legs and stood. With one big step he was in front of me, holding out his hand.

"No garter belt today?" The whisper had been so low, surely, I had been the only one to hear it, but it still made my cheeks heat up.

"You too, Mr Campbell," I said with a voice that sounded strained and unusual.

"Please. Call me Ben." The look he gave me made me all hot and bothered and that was not what I wanted to be right now.

"Ben here was the one who handpicked you from all of our applicants," Simon said. "You are perfect for his team."

Wait. What? He handpicked me?

That meant he'd taken a close look at my resume and my portfolio. Both had my photo in them.

Had he recognized me in that bar? Was what happened just some sick game of his, to get some twisted power over me? What the actual fuck was going on here? I felt rage building up in me.

"Um... ok." I needed to get out of here, now. To my dismay, Ben continued:

"Why don't I show Ms Bower around while you take care of that situation, Simon. We can meet up for lunch after that." He turned to me. "We would like to take you to lunch. It's a tradition with all new employees. Sounds ok?"

Oh, hell no. I was not going to lunch with fucking Deckard. 

"I'd love that," my deceitful mouth said. I was so dead.

"Great. Thanks, Julia," Ben said to the woman I had completely forgotten was standing behind me. Leading me out of the office he put his light fingers at the small of my back, just like he had leading me to his car some 36 hours ago. It both excited and infuriated me. He turned us to the left and led us towards the glass door at the end of the row.

"I think we need a chat in private," he said in a low, dangerous voice. Walking into the room I saw two desks standing back-to-back, two large computer screens on them, a whiteboard-sized screen on the wall, a couch and an armchair in the left corner, and a man in his thirties sitting by one of the desks, typing.

"Hey, Joe. How is it going?" Ben said to the man who looked up from the screen.

"Oh, hi. I'm all good, just give me a minute and I'll be out of here." I thought it quite rude to throw the man out from the room like we were a couple of Mariah Carey's, but refrained from commenting. Joe went back to typing while we stood in awkward silence. Apparently satisfied with his work, he then pushed himself from the desk and stood.

"Ok Ms Bower, you are all set. The password is Pocahontas123, make sure you change it. Welcome to Papercut!" Joe. Jonas. This amazing room was my office. I took it in. Huge windows facing the busy street below. The harbour in the far west corner. A cozy rug in the same Mexican style as the one in the reception, covering most of the concrete floor. However, a nagging feeling was starting to spread in my body.

If that was my desk, then who sat on the other side?

"Didn't think I'd see you again, Rachel." His cold voice made my blood boil. Jonas had closed the door behind him, and we were alone.

"Really?" I hissed. "Could have fooled me." A wrinkle appeared between his brows.

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me the truth, Ben. Did you recognise me at that bar? This is just too much to be coincidental." Confusion was plastered all over his face. Ok, so he's a great actor.

"How on earth would I have recognized you? I'd never met you until that night."

"You've seen my resume." I watched his expression change as he understood where I was going. He scoffed.

"You had black, straight hair arranged like a fucking wind tunnel on your head. You were in costume, for Christ's sake. I didn't make the connection, Puck. At least not consciously. All I saw was a gorgeous woman, dressed as my inner most sexual fantasy, carrying an owl." I squinted at him.

"My name. It's unusual."

"It sure is," he said. "And original. But perhaps you recall what you call yourself in your portfolio?"

I winced. He was right.

My full name was Tamara Puck Bower. My mother had been quite the hippie. But I had always been called Puck, and I really didn't care in what order my names came in my passport. However, it had caused some confusion in the past when employers and clients wanted to do a search on me, so I used my first name in my portfolio and on my resume. But...

"Julia knew."

"Perhaps she did, but she didn't discuss it with me. Until ten minutes ago I thought I was meeting Tamara Bower. Simon still thinks your name is Tamara Bower. What is the deal with that, anyway?" I sighed as I realised, I had brought this on myself.

"My name is Tamara Puck Bower. I sometimes use Tamara in business situations. It's simpler."

Ben stayed quiet. Then he looked at me.

"I prefer Puck. Or Rachel." He said it very matter-of-factly, but the words sent jolts of heat to my core.

No. Don't do that. Don't be all sexy and don't call me Rachel.

I looked at him. His tall, lean body. The broad shoulders. Those strong arms, that had held me up while I came apart in my hallway. His mouth, that had expertly made me come multiple times. I wanted to follow that sharp jawline with my tongue. I wanted to slip my hands inside that shirt and let the hairs there tickle my palms. I wanted to let my hands glide south. And I wanted to taste that magnificent dick.

Yeah, no. This was not going to work.

"Fuck." I covered my face with my hands. Was I going to have to quit before I even started?

"I'd like to know what you're thinking, Puck."

"This isn't going to work. I should just go." I let my hands fall to my sides and looked at him.

He seemed to contemplate what I just said.

"Let's sit." He gestured towards the sofa and allowed me to sit first before sitting down next to me.

"Do you want the job?" he asked.

"Are you joking? It's a dream come true." This was true. The one good thing being threatened by my ex had brought: if he hadn't forced me to resign, I never would have seen that Papercut was looking to hire. "But I already messed it up."

"As I recall it you weren't alone messing things up in that bed of yours." I flushed. That was indeed true.

"You're my superior."

"That only puts the weight heavier on me. Ethically, you've done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, could be accused of abusing my superiority to coerce you into sleeping with me, or that I favoured you in the recruitment process because I'm madly attracted to you. Neither one works in my favour." He seemed completely unaware of how him confessing his attraction to me made my heart do flippy-flops.

"I could've slept my way to the position."

"Technically you couldn't. You already had the position by then."

I wanted to argue the same went for him using his power to make me sleep with him but decided it would involve too many details having to go there.

"Stay," he continued. "Attraction is not the reason I hired you, we both know this. You not working here would be a loss to the firm."

"But how, though?" As he thought about it, I took my time looking at him. The man was fucking flawless. I could feel myself grow the female equivalent of a hard-on, and that wasn't even the problem. I wanted him to touch me. Hold me. Say my name like he had done in my bed – like I belonged in his arms.

"You have my discretion, and you promise me yours. We move on and act professional from now on."

What? No. I didn't want to be professional, I wanted him to ravish me right here on the couch. His words offended me. Was it that easy for him?

Ok. Fine. I could do this. I would do this.

"Ok." I raised my chin.

"Great. But first, there is one thing we need to talk about."