Page 41 of Leverage & Obedience

The anklet presses against my skin. My skirt doesn’t hide the delicate gold. He clasped it back on me Saturday afternoon, sliding it on like it had never been gone. The chain catches when I cross my legs, and every time it does, it reminds me I’m choosing this. Him.

I left the collar at his house this morning since it’s not a work piece. He’ll put it back on me tonight. I’m not the same woman who walked away from this desk last week.

I drove home from Bren’s Sunday night for clean clothes and a wall charger, looked at my half-unpacked apartment, and drove back to his place. The lease renewal is still on the counter, unsigned. He hasn’t asked me to move in, and I haven’t asked if he wants me to. We already know.

My birth control’s still on the counter at my apartment. I haven’t taken it since last Wednesday. We talked about it Sunday morning—about me staying off—and neither of us wanted me on it. The conversation lasted about two minutes.

Now it’s Monday morning. Dana’s already at her desk, and Kevin’s bent over his keyboard in the corner. The phones haven’t started yet. I pull up my email and Bren’s calendar and make some changes that were missed while I was gone.

I’m trying to decide who is going to notice me first when Rachel says, “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”

She’s standing at the entrance to my cubicle with a yogurt cup in one hand and a look on her face that’s half amazement, half joy. She doesn’t move for one full second, then she squeals and lunges.

Her arms wrap around my neck, her yogurt balanced precariously between us at shoulder height. She doesn’t know what her text did to me. I’d be gone by now without it. I owe her cocktails forever. A rush of pleasure makes me squeeze her tighter than I mean to.

“Oh my god.” She pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, her eyes shining and there’s now yogurt on my blouse. I don’t care. “You’re here. Look at you, sitting at your desk like nothing happened.”

“I mean, some things happened.” I glance toward Bren’s closed office door and take a sip of coffee.

As if he was summoned, his door opens.

He walks out, and his eyes find me. His smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it before. My stomach flutters, and I grin back.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Morning.” I hold up my coffee cup. “I rearranged your Thursday agenda. The Morrison call was double-booked with the quarterly review, so I moved Morrison to 2:30 and added a buffer for the—”

“Lily.”

“I’m working, Bren. Some of us have jobs.”

The smile turns wolfish, and his eyes don’t leave mine. The heat in them makes my stomach flutter in pleasure. It’s game on.

He turns to the open office. Rachel’s pretending to eat her yogurt. Kevin has suddenly found something fascinating in the file he’s holding. Dana watches with delighted curiosity. She isn’t bothering to pretend.

“I have an announcement,” Bren says.

My heart rate doubles. He didn’t tell me he was doing this right now. My coffee cup hovers halfway between the desk and my mouth, and I freeze with it there because I’m afraid if I take a sip, I won’t be able to swallow.

“Lily’s position is now permanent. She’s staying.”

For one quiet beat, nobody says anything. Bren holds my gaze. Seven years of refusing to fill this position, and he just declared I’m here to stay.

Then Rachel squeaks. She tries to cover it with a cough, but she fails. Kevin takes off his glasses, cleans them on his shirt, and puts them back on, which is Kevin for I’m having an emotion.

Dana just nods as if she was expecting this and says, “About time.”

I’m sitting at my desk with my coffee cup suspended in midair. My eyes are burning. I refuse to cry at 9:15 on a Monday morning in front of my coworkers. I’m not.

“So does permanent mean I get a parking spot? Because I’ve been parking in the visitor section for weeks, and the security guard gives me a look every morning that’s frankly hostile.”

Bren laughs, and the moment passes from monumental to normal in about four seconds.

“We’ll see if you deserve one,” he says and winks at me.

Oh, I’m getting a parking spot. Hell, maybe now I wanthisspot since he’s got the best one.

I smirk to myself and check my emails.