Chapter 32

The phone was much too loud I thought, but at least it was quick to stop. It was only when I heard someone mutter my name that I bothered to open my eyes. A hand brushed against my spine, gently reminding me that I had to get up. I just tried to pull the covers higher.

"Do you really want to keep my grandfather waiting just so you can sleep in?" Bryce asked, placing a kiss on my bare shoulder.

"I hate you," I muttered, as I turned over to lie on my back. Bryce was on his side, watching me, and I stuck out my tongue for good measure.

"Like I've never heard that before," he said with a smile, before climbing out of bed. Even in the semi-darkness, he looked good. It made me think missing the meeting would be all right for reasons other than sleep.

"Stop it, Gillian."

"Stop what?" I asked innocently, dropping my gaze and looking around for a shirt or something, so I could get out of bed with some dignity.

He handed me a shirt and then headed to the shower. I couldn't help noticing he had brought plenty of clothes over—like he had ever planned to stay elsewhere. Still, I wasn't going to complain that much. Sure, he hogged the bed, but if you went according to proportion instead of just dividing it down the middle, he left me more than my fair share. Plus, the bed was huge. Bigger than anything I had ever been in before.

Right before he disappeared inside the bathroom, he called out: "Any day now, Gillian."

I flipped off the empty doorway, shrugged on his shirt and climbed out of bed. I could get dressed for this terrible, awful day (making myself Thomas Nast's public enemy #1 and seeing my mother all in the same twenty-four hours—joy). Or I could explore the sinfully gigantic bathroom one more time.

I joined Bryce in the shower.

We weren't even late getting down. I could have sworn we were behind schedule, but we made it down to the lobby with five minutes to spare. I swear Bryce used dark magic, or something.

Grant and Paulson were flanking us, making me feel shorter than I've ever felt in my life. There was a plain black car was waiting outside. Paulson opened the door and let me pass. Bryce was barely in the back seat before he was talking on his phone. Again.

I spent most of the ride there sitting as he ordered various people around, called Sean, yelled at some hapless minion—the usual stuff. It gave me time to go over the spell I would perform later that day. If my mother actually came, I couldn't afford to have it not work. The suggestions Bryce had made seemed to make sense, but like he had said, the only way to know for sure would be to test it. And the only way to test it was to perform in front of a woman I had sworn never to talk to again.

Fortunately, that was the only nightmare I had last night. That and bad food; I didn't mind too much since it let me know Savannah was alive.

Bryce eventually got off the phone, but it was only to give bad me news. My mother was in town—he didn't mention whether there had been a problem bringing her over, so I just assumed there had been and tried to ignore it. She was waiting back at the hotel—the Nasts were paying, but she was on a different floor from the rest of us.

This time when we got to the Nast building, Bryce led me through the front door. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. Sure, people liked to gossip about the boss and everyone was a little surprised at seeing a witch walking around the premise, but no one stared too obviously. No one seemed to care all that much, which made me immensely grateful. If people were staring, it wasn't at me.

Everyone gave Bryce a wide berth as he walked through the halls. There was nothing like being the boss to mark you and Cabal bosses were the worst of all. There was no way a board of directors comprised up of ones closest relatives was ever going to issue a reprimand. No matter what. Even as a witch tagged a long after him, Bryce was untouchable. Everyone knew it. And it scared the shit out of a lot of people.

"Good morning, Bryce," his secretary said. He had a full suite of offices—manned full time—on the West Coast even though he was never there. "Pete Russ from H.R. called. He said it's urgent. And Alba said to tell you her eight o'clock is going to run long, so you're going to have to wait a bit."

That was annoying, but we couldn't exactly argue. Bryce wanted Alba on his side before the board meeting, so he could talk to his grandfather after knowing she would go along with him. "Thank you, Sherri. Have you been busy lately?"

As the two of them made small talk, I couldn't help but feel a little ashamed. Bryce had not slept with his secretary, even if her name was Sherri. She was way too old for him. I didn't mean old in the way people sometimes do when they're exaggerating to make a point. Sherri had to be at least sixty, at the very, very, very generous minimum. I would have actually pegged her around seventy myself, but I sucked at guessing people's ages. Needless to say, the dumpy, grandmother-like woman was not his secretary so he could fulfill his more carnal fantasies. The woman had pictures of her family lined up around her desk—her when she was younger with an arm around an equally attractive women who must have been her sister, to her surrounded by grandchildren and children as they all crowded around a menorah. I bet she gave bear hugs and kissed booboos better.

Even with the white hair, there was no denying she had been pretty once a upon a time. It clung to her still, in the curve of her smile, a flash in her eyes, just hints at what once had been. That's how I tried to explain why Bryce was being so...kind towards her, but even in my own head, it seemed a weak excuse. But there was no denying he was trying to please her, even as they joked around.

It was making me kind of nauseous. Fortunately, they finished up with the gossip and she moved on to chide him gently: "What have you been up to?"

"Nothing, really."

"I heard you gave your Grandfather quite a surprise on his birthday."

"Have to make sure he was paying attention."

"Bryce," Sherri used a tone of voice that meant he better be paying attention, "Your Grandfather pays more attention than you think."

"Sure. Send word when Alba's done, okay?"

She nodded and he led me to the doorway behind her. As I walked past, she touched the bowl of candy on her desk, offering me one. I couldn't believe it—but at the same time, a friendly gesture wasn't something I could ignore. I took a lollipop with a small thank you and she smiled happily.

Bryce's office was exactly what you would expect for a Cabal son. What did it matter his home was on the other side of the country and this room sat empty for most of the year? The view was spectacular, the desk most have cost as much as my tuition and the whole place might have been bigger than some of the homes I had lived in over the years. Sometimes, I really hated Bryce.

He took a seat in the real leather desk chair while I opened my lollipop. Bryce may have been staring, but the candy was orange. I loved oranges.

"She's your secretary," I defended myself. "You don't like it, yell at her."

There were other chairs in the room, but it would have made me feel too much like a kid in the principal's office to face him across from the desk. So I walked around and perched on top of the desk itself, sucking on my candy.

"I could never yell at that woman. She's a saint."

Bryce was no saint. His fingertips were slowly running up my stocking-clad legs, as he scooted the chair closer. "Is that why you hired her? Or did someone complain about all the empty space?"

"Officially, she forwards messages to my office and makes sure I'm up on all the West Coast gossip. She's extremely useful in that capacity. She looks so sweet that everyone tells her everything and however old she might be, she's never forgotten a piece of news in her life."

"Officially? What about unofficially?"

"She's been with the company a long time...a long, long time. In fact, Sherri was once Grandpa's secretary... back when she was pretty and Grandpa was a lot younger." He smirked at me. "He still keeps an eye on her, always asks me how she's doing. I know this is my Grandpa we're talking about and he doesn't give a shit about anyone... but she took two weeks off after Dad died and only came back the day he did."

"If this wasn't Thomas Nast we were talking about, I'd think it was cute."

His face turned serious. "It's less cute when you remember he ignored my grandmother to death. And if he did love Sherri he was willing to give her up because she was a shaman and therefore not suitable."

"Do you have work to do?" I asked, eager to change the subject. "I can move."

"It's technically still my vacation. And Russ is an idiot."

"You're not going to call him back?"

"I don't think I'm going to get around to it."

With that he shifted the chair forward so he was right between my legs. I took the lollipop out of my mouth and kissed him slowly, letting him taste the artificial sugar. Licking my lips, I pulled back. It was sort of fun being the one who had to stoop.

"You should have got your own," I teased, putting the lollipop back in my mouth.

He laughed, so I let him take out the sucker and throw it out.

"I really liked that. You better make it up to me."

"And how do you suggest I do that?" he asked, his fingers already undoing the buttons on my blouse. It was disconcerting how quickly he could do it, considering he couldn't see a thing. His lips captured mine, even as a warm hand gently crept along my ribs. When it reached my breast, he broke the kiss and asked, grinning widely, "Are you wearing a bra?"

"It has been known to happen," I told him, rolling my eyes. Bryce just laughed and tried to kiss me again. I pouted instead, turning my head this way and that, so he was forced to kiss my jaw instead.

It just gave him ideas. Not seeming to care that Alba was soon going to announce she wanted to see him, he began slowly kissing his way down my neck, hands gently rubbing my back, until I relaxed for the first time since I walked into Evil's Head Office.

His fingers were playing with the thin lace fabric on my chest, teasing until I wished I hadn't bothered to wear it in the first place, even if I could run into Thomas Nast at any moment. A small moan escaped me, though for once I tried to be quiet, not sure how well this usually abandoned office was soundproofed. Then I tightened my legs, trying to pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hair so I could force his head up and force our lips together once more.

All the nightmares faded away, finally, as I lost myself in the here and now. My body, at least, could always be counted on. There was no thinking and no more lies, just feelings that I didn't need to bother to fake.

When he pulled away the cold air hit my exposed chest, making me shiver, but I couldn't help smiling as I watched Bryce walk over to the door, where he locked it. So that's why they paid him the big bucks—he knew how to cover his ass.

Standing by the edge of the desk, his hands ran up my legs, until they finally reached the bare flesh on the tops of my stockings. He couldn't seem to get enough of the soft skin, caressing even as he pulled my legs apart. The cool air helped ease the ache between them.

I began shimming backwards, pulling papers with me. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded. But he took off his blazer and draped it casually over the chair he had just vacated. When I was properly on the desk, I leaned forward between my bent legs and grabbed his tie. I gave it a firm tug.

"Come here."

He did as he was told, easily placing one knee on the desk and lifting himself up. One sharp pull on his tie and he descended downwards, landing firmly on top of me, nestled between my knees.

"You're going to strangle me," he complained before he got to work blazing a trail from my lips to my breasts and back again. Because I didn't want him dead—that would be a lousy thing to wish on another human being—I forced my fingers to undo the tie, nimbly pulling it off.

I brought my hips flush with his and was rewarded with a pained groan. His belt buckle was surprisingly easy to undo, but I wasn't as talented as he was. I couldn't seem to get his pants off with my hands trembling the way they were.

So I did the only thing I could do, the most natural thing in the world. I arched up, rubbing right against him, again and again until his eyes were burning into mine. He dragged me further up the desk—I was pressing myself so tightly against him he doesn't have to do much to bring me with him—knocking in-trays and staplers and a hundred other useless tools onto the floor. Eventually my head hit the wall, but it wasn't painful and he was on the desk fully.

"Your family really is overcompensating with the furniture," I moaned as he tugged my skirt upwards. But seriously—Bryce was over six feet and he fit easily on top of this wooden monstrosity.

"Do you ever shut up?" he demanded, hair sticking up every which way. My bad.

"No," I promised as I kissed him, unbuttoning the buttons on his dress shirt, until there was enough exposed skin for my liking. My skirt was already bunched immodestly around my hips and it wasn't fair that I was half-undressed and all he had lost was the tie. Using my arms around his neck for support, I pressed against his chest, loving the warmth that seemed to emanate from him.

Bryce growled and asked, "Anyway I can get you to take that thing off?"

I pushed him upwards, to give me room to manoeuvre. Leaning my weight on my shoulders, I unhooked the back of the bra through my shirt and then the hooks at the front that held the straps on. A little shimmy and a little tug and I could drop it to the floor.

"I was sort of hoping the shirt would go too," he complained.

"I can actually completely change in a hallway full of people and not show off an inch of skin," I informed him. That's what years of sports could do for someone with body issues. "And my shirt will come off when yours does."

He leaned up and brushed the blouse open further, so that it framed my exposed breasts. "Nah. The view's growing on me."

"Shut up," I laughed, but he was already busy showing his appreciation, so I just closed my eyes and enjoyed how damn good he could make me feel. It was even better than orange candy. It was the same sort of high I got from throwing myself off buildings, only this time I knew I wasn't gong to die in the attempt. I was safe.

His hand moved between my legs. "I love how wet you get for me," he whispered as his fingers slipped inside me. I could only whimper in response, bitchy comment ignored in favour of clinging desperately to him.

But the higher he brought me, the angrier I got. Was that our problem? "Bryce...I don't want your stupid fingers. I want you."

It came out a little needier than I meant it too, but all he did was laugh, before sucking on my ear and hitting something inside me so perfectly that I arched right off the desk. "Say please, Gillian."

"Bite me," I managed through my breathlessness.

He kissed me one last time. "Close enough."

Then finally he was inside me as I whimpered, toes curling tightly as I held him to me. He began to move above me, slow, torturous thrusts and I braced my hands against the wall as I moved to meet him time and time again. My arms managed to brace my head a little bit, though not perfectly—he was just too much bigger than me, moving my whole body when his hips slammed against mine.

His eyes watched me, burned into me, really, as I came apart underneath him, shaking like I really was the breakable little girl I didn't want to be. I brought him with me, the two of us in some bizarre world where we actually made sense for just a little while.

And then it was over, and I was lying on a desk in Nast Headquarters with a sorcerer on top of me trying not to worry about Savannah.

Bryce's laughter brought me back to the present.

"What?" I asked, too calm to be snarky.

There was that smirk and he told me: "I'm never going to be able to work in this room again. You've ruined it."

"Little old me?"

It only made him laugh harder. "How I am ever supposed to concentrate in here ever again? I'll only be able to remember you like this."

"You're amazing when you put your mind to something," I told him frankly. "Terrifying, but amazing."

"Was that a compliment, Gillian?"

"Never," I promised.

But I couldn't help smiling.

"Think we were quiet enough?" he asked as he pulled away and we set about the odious task of being responsible. Cleaning up sucked.

"We'll know when we leave."

He chuckled leaned over to kiss me. "You're not funny Gillian."

"Aww, but you still think I'm cute."

He gazed down at me, eyes lingering on my exposed chest. "Not really the word I was thinking of."

It was only because he turned away to pick up his stapler that I was able to drag myself back to the task at hand. It wasn't fair. He should not be allowed to look at me like that.

I struggled to get my skirt down, while smoothing out the wrinkles. To prove some bizarre point I put on my bra without taking off my shirt. Sure it was a lot more effort and he had already seen everything, but it was fun. And it took longer. Because there was something I sort of should ask him before I let this get any more complicated, but I was sort of scared of the answer.

"Bryce?" I asked finally. "Do you actually like me?"

He rolled his eyes and did up his belt. "What brought this on?"

"I don't know," I said, as I primly buttoned up my shirt. "It's just...well, you treat Sean like crap and you love him. And you're going to lie like hell to your grandfather and you love him. So...I don't know. I was just wondering."

"Do you really think I treat you like crap?"

The word came up before I could stop it. "No. Not that you treat me great, or anything."

"You don't treat me any better," he said, grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me to him. I did up his tie, but only because I seemed to be stuck with him. "But, sure. Yeah, I do. I actually like you."

He tried to kiss me, but I pulled back.

"Be serious."

"I'm not the compulsive liar."

"But I'm such a bitch to you all the time. The only time we ever agree is when we're talking about sex. You think I'm annoying and overly emotional. And it is disgusting how I can't keep food down properly. I'm a complete and utter mess—"

"Gillian, I'm not an idiot. If I wanted a complete alphabetical list of everything that's wrong with you I'm more than perfectly capable of making it myself." This time when he tried to kiss me, I let him, though I didn't respond. "Stop acting like we're talking about something terrible here."

"I'm not acting. The last time we even remotely broached this subject you almost bit my head off. And now you're acting like it's no big deal. Can't you understand why I might be a little confused here?"

"They were different issues." I pulled his tie a little too tight but he kept going. "I know what my boundaries are and even if I forgot—which, you're beautiful but I'm not suicidal—it's practically a universally acknowledged fact that I would be less bothersome if I occasionally got my heart broken."

I kissed him back this time, tentatively, mulling over what he was saying. "You think I'm beautiful?"

I hadn't been pretty since I had gotten kicked off the team and had half of my muscle turned to fat.

He rolled his eyes. "Objectively? You know you are—you're just ten feet too short. And that's growing on me. But if you get in over your head, I will have both the she-devil and my brother coming after me with pitchforks and I really can't afford that. Plus, no offense, but I don't think either of us would survive you going crazy ex-girlfriend on me."

"I'd totally ruin you."

He laughed and then kissed me again, distracting us both in the best possible way. Of course, we then had to pick up most of the useless junk that we had knocked to the floor.

"Am I going to have to do anything at this meeting?" I asked.

"You don't really have to come," he admitted. "I just wanted to show you the office. Sean can make sure we take the Cortezes into account—Grandpa won't like that, but he'll survive."

"Oh."

"But it might make Grandpa agree to help if only to get me to ditch you. That would be the best case scenario, so..."

"Chances are it won't work."

"That's where Alba comes in. If she agrees to help, I'll call her in to support me and she'll let it slip that you aren't just the love of my life anymore. You're the future of Nast Enterprises."

"How do you not choke on all that bullshit?"

"Practice."

"You're not that good of a liar, Bryce. You won't be able to fake surprise well enough."

"Maybe not well enough to fool you, but Grandpa...he trusts me. He'll believe—" His voice choked. "Why the hell am I doing this, again?"

"Your father would want you to. Your sister needs you to. Your grandfather shouldn't have created a situation where this stupid plan of yours could actually work. So...yeah."

He kissed me again, slowly, long enough that I could convince myself it was going to be okay. It was easy enough to ignore how his fingers were digging into my arms.

The knock startled both of us, but it was left to me to unlock the door. If I waited for Bryce to get it, Sherri would think we were in the middle of doing...well, what we had been doing. I discretely moved his in-tray back into place as I walk towards the door.

Sherri smiled like I was a good girl and then announced, "Sean came by earlier. I thought you would be busy and he said he'd see you in the boardroom. Alba is finished now, you can go see her."

I glanced up at him and tried not to shake. "So this is it?"

He tucked my hair behind my ear. "There's still time to back out."

"She needs this."

He didn't like that answer, but he didn't press.

"I'll come with you to the meeting."

Bryce stared, but I didn't back down. I could handle the board of directors—it was Thomas I couldn't handle, but since Bryce seemed to believe he could...I would just have to trust in that.

"You shouldn't keep Alba waiting," Sherri announced before leaving, "She's a little out of sorts this morning."

Bryce sighed.

"If I see Sean, I'll get him to keep you company for a little while."

"Good luck, I guess," I muttered. He didn't even bother trying to pretend to be enjoying himself, just nodded and was gone.