You pay me to work. Let me do my job.
Your assistant,
Margo
From: [email protected]
It’s hard to pay attention when one of my most trusted advisors keeps stealing glances your way. If he looks at you again, I’m going to make a scene and show him that if you’re going to be anyone’s, you’re going to be mine.
Careful leading him on, Violet. I’m a very jealous man.
Beck
From: [email protected]
Ezra will be picking you up tonight without me. I’ve got a meeting. I’ll still be home for dinner.
You should be waiting for me when I get home.
Beck
From: [email protected]
You looked too peaceful sleeping when I stopped by to wake you up. Ezra will pick you up whenever you’re ready for work. Grab yourself （and me） a coffee on your way in.
I wish we stayed up late last night for other reasons than work.
Beck
From: [email protected]
I’m attaching the documents you asked for. I’ve also left a few comments for changes that I think may work better.
Margo
From: [email protected]
If I didn’t know how talented of an artist you were, I’d beg you to stay at Sintech forever. I’ve accepted your comments and sent them to the marketing team.
You continue to amaze me.
Beck
From: [email protected]
Winnie, Emma and I are doing matching costumes for Halloween this weekend. Would you want to join?
I think you’d look good in leather.
From: [email protected]
I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less than a coordinating costume.
Can’t wait to see you in leather.
Beck
From: [email protected]
I’m second guessing implementing casual Fridays per your request. I’ve never been turned on by a pair of jeans. I can’t think straight with you in jeans. It’s been almost a month since you turned me down.
Are you ready to beg yet?
Beck
From: [email protected]
If you take away casual Fridays I quit. Morale seems to be much higher since people get to dress comfortably on Fridays.
You’re welcome for the suggestion.
Margo
PS… you bought the jeans. I’m glad you love them.
From: [email protected]
Don’t mistake my words. I’d love to rip the jeans from your body. I actually despise the jeans. They remind me how much I fucking want you.
Why aren’t you mine yet?
Beck
I jump when a loud tinging sound breaks me from the journey through my favorited emails in my inbox. It started off innocent. At first, I learned of the feature and favorited an email Beck sent me just so I’d remember to complete the task. But then he kept sending me emails that sent my pulse into overdrive, and in a few weeks’ time I had a nice little collection of emails between the two of us that had me questioning why I just don’t give into him already.
It’s getting harder and harder to resist Beck. We live together, work together, and basically do everything together. I’m not complaining about it. I actually love it more than I probably should. But because of all the time spent together, I’m getting to know Beck for who he is.
And he’s nothing like his younger brother. They couldn’t be more opposite if they tried.
Which makes my excuses for why Beck and I can’t give into the sexual tension for us weaker and weaker.
I’m getting attached to him no matter what, even if we haven’t kissed again after that day in the dressing room over a month ago. Things haven’t been completely innocent with us either. Looks have lingered at home and here at work. We both have come up with excuses to spend more and more time together. The only time we spend apart is if he has meetings that I’m not needed for or when we both go to separate beds at night.
I’m wondering how much longer I can last. His advances continue. Beck isn’t shy about making it clear what he wants—me. At least for the next year. And I’m running out of reasons to deny him.
A flashing notification at the top corner of my desktop computer has pulled me from my imaginations of all the fun Beck and I could have if I wasn’t so set in my ways.
I open the email, noticing it’s from Beck. My eyes flick to the glass window in front of me. From it, I can clearly see out into the conference room where he sits through a presentation from one of his heads of development. Except when I look at him, he isn’t watching the presentation on the screen. He’s staring right at me.
I instantly look away like I’d been caught reaching into the cookie jar. Metaphorically, I guess you could call it me reaching into the cookie jar when I know I’m not supposed to. The cookie jar in this instance is just Beck’s dirty, teasing emails.
My eyes track over his email, trying not to show too much of a reaction knowing he still might be watching me.
From: [email protected]
Should I be jealous? You’ve been staring at your computer monitor with a smile on your face for thirty minutes now. Now you’re crossing your legs. What are you looking at, Violet?
Focus on me.
Beck
My cheeks twitch as I fight a smile. An idea pops into my head. One that has no business being there, but one I can’t resist. My focus stays pinned on the keyboard in front of me as I type out a response.
From: [email protected]
Make me.
I’m busy feeling proud of myself, addicted to the thrill of the cat and mouse game Beck and I have going on when my office door is slammed—loudly. Looking up, I find an angry-eyed Beck staring at me.
“Miss Moretti.” He keeps his voice steady despite the deep, gravelly tone to it.
“Yes, Mr. Sinclair?”
Beck looks over his shoulder, out the glass windows that everyone can see into it. It isn’t hard to miss the curious eyes that are pretending not to watch the both of us in here. It’s like being in a fishbowl. With the dangerous glint to Beck’s eyes right now, I’m not sure I’m thankful that all my coworkers can see in right now, or if I hate that they can.
“Do you think it’s cute to send emails that get my blood pumping damn well knowing I can’t act on it.”
I sit back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other as I look up and down his towering form. There’s an angry set to his shoulders. His jaw is clenched so tight I’m wondering if he’s grinding his teeth down in the process. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I run the top of my pen over my lip, knowing exactly where I’m drawing his attention with the movement.