The Replacement

JESSICA

THUD.

My day planner fell off the desk. Fuck. It was too cluttered. My whole office was too cluttered. I got up and walked around the desk to pick it up. I was crouched over, reaching for the planner, when I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

“That’s not a very professional position,” I heard a deep familiar voice say.

I turned, and there was Spencer Michaels in all his tall, muscular, chiseled glory. I felt my cheeks burn hot.

“Can you…?”

“Can I see you?” he asked with a smirk. “I could hear you rummaging around on the floor. So I can assume your hands are on the floor, which in turn means it’s a safe bet to assume your ass is in the air.”

“Excuse y-you—,“ I stammered, shocked that this man—my boss—was speaking so crudely to me.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure it looked good,” he said, stepping closer to me. “Better than good, in fact.”

“What are you doing, Mr. Michaels?” I snapped when he was just a step away from me. I was already backed up against my desk—I couldn’t move any further. There was no way to know if he was purposely closing in on me or just didn’t know where I was.

“Jess, you can call me Spencer.”

“I told you before, my name is Jessica. What are you even doing here?”

“I told you I’d be keeping a closer eye on you, didn’t I?” he breathed, his face now incredibly close to mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face, and my whole body trembled. This was wrong. Surely, he knew what he was doing to me—how his proximity made my heart pound through my chest.

“Does Scott know you’re here?” I squeaked out, sounding less confident than I wanted.

Spencer didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his hand and gently caressed the side of my face. Slowly his fingers traced a path from my temple down to my ear, leaving an electric current in its wake. His gentle touch sent shivers down my spine, and I felt the heat in my core building.

God, he was sexy.

Jessica, stop that. He’s your boss.

My inner voice clammed up as he drew my hair behind my head in a fist. He pulled it tight, drawing my face closer to his, and I felt a moan slipped out of my mouth.

“You like that?” he whispered.

Fuck. What was this man doing to me?

He released my hair and slid his hand down my cheek, to my mouth, and then he ran his thumb along the outline of my lips. I could feel the wetness between my legs, and we hadn’t even done anything yet.

This was getting out of hand. What are you doing, Jessica?

He slid a finger along my lips. I flicked out my tongue, tasting his skin while my eyes were locked on his. He was looking right back at me. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see. I knew he could feel my gaze. Without a second thought, I gently grabbed his finger with my teeth, biting him.

I wanted more. I needed to feel his hands rubbing this fast somewhere else, deeper, further inside… I was so turned on. I wanted release. I needed release, now!

I was so close. How was this happening? How was I this fucking close to an—?

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

“Jessica?”

I shot up in my bed, my heart racing at a mile a minute. I looked around. I was back in my bedroom at my West London apartment. I squeezed my eyes shut. I could still feel the remnants of my building arousal.

It was just a dream. Just a goddamn fantasy. About my boss.

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.

“JESSICA, OPEN YOUR FUCKING DOOR!” I heard Sam’s voice shout from the hallway. I ran out of bed to the front door and found my older brother staring back at me.

“You never sleep this late.”

“What time is it?” I demanded.

He held his phone up to me, and I saw the time on the screen—8:17 a.m.

“SHIT!” I cursed, running to the bathroom. “I must’ve slept through the alarm. That never happens. Scott’s going to kill me,” I cried as I smeared foundation all over my face.

Sam just walked in through the doorway, laughing.

“What?” I asked him.

He lifted the phone screen up again. This time, it read 6:43 a.m.

The asshole kept on laughing. Louder now, in fact.

I exhaled. “I’m gonna get you back one of these days,” I vowed.

“I’ll be waiting,” he responded with a huge smile.

***

“You don’t need to worry,” Scott Michaels said from behind his desk, but I waved the Post-it note in front of his face. This particular Post-it note had taunted me from the second I walked into my office.

“This tells me I do need to worry! Have you read it?”

Scott sighed. “I see what it says, Jessica. He’s just trying to make sure the company’s in good hands.”

“It says, and I quote: I am watching you,” which was ironic, considering the note came from Spencer Michaels, my blind boss, but I didn’t spell out that irony to Scott. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell him about me before now.”

“For exactly this reason. I didn’t want him to freak out.”

“Well, that worked out well,” I responded before checking my attitude. “Sorry, I just have enough daily stress without the added bonus of an angry boss breathing down my neck.”

“He won’t be breathing down your neck, Jessica.”

I nodded even though I was still uncertain. But then, something dawned on me. “Wait, is my contract even still valid? He won’t just void it or anything, right? Do I need to look for another job?”

“You’re taking this way too seriously.”

“I’m just making sure.”

“Trust me, Jessica. Spencer has enough to worry about outside of the Company to keep him plenty busy,” Scott informed me.

“You mean his divorce?”

“The divorce, the custody battle…”

Huh, that part wasn’t in the tabloids yet.

“A custody battle? I hadn’t heard about that.”

“Spencer’s trying hard to keep it out of the press for a reason,” Scott said, giving me a knowing look. “Well, now I know you read the tabloids.”

I shook my head. “I’m not interested just for the sake of being interested, Scott. It’s my job to track the optics of the company. If Spencer’s being dragged through the mud in the tabloids, that won’t reflect well—”

“Spencer isn’t being attacked in the tabloids. He has a bitch of an ex-wife who cheated on him, shoved a divorce down his throat the second he became blind, and is now using his disability as an argument for her custody plea.”

I swallowed. “Right.”

“It’s not for you to worry about. All you have to know is that Spencer has his hands full, so you need to focus on doing your job. Forget about him and his scare tactics,” he said, motioning to the note in my hand.

I nodded even though I knew it’d be impossible for me to forget him, with or without the scare tactics. Ever since I met Spencer Michaels yesterday afternoon, ever since I’d dreamt of his voice, his touch—I hadn’t been able to get him out of my mind.

“You have a tea meeting with Craig at one. Don’t be late,” Scott said, pulling me out of my head.

I nodded again. Craig Sharp, the father of Scott’s fiancée, was a very important advisor for the company.

Craig had asked Scott to meet me for tea so I could introduce myself. I knew already that this was a chance for him to put me on trial. He wanted to know if the new twenty-five-year-old woman was competent or if she just had a nice ass. Why couldn’t I have both?

I headed back to my office, ready to get some work done before I had to leave for afternoon tea. I found myself looking forward to it. Whether Craig was a pain in the ass or not, he would make for a good distraction.

And at the moment, I’d welcome any kind of distraction at all. Anything to take my mind off those green eyes that were haunting my dreams. Anything.

***

I strode into the Ritz hotel in Piccadilly, London, by myself and saw Craig Sharp already seated at a table. He was good-looking for his age, with silver hair and a deep tan. When he saw me enter, he rose to greet me.

“You must be Scott’s new Spencer.”

“Jessica Turner,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Well, come on, Jessica. Let’s have a drink.”

Craig waved down the server and ordered two whiskeys, neat. My eyebrows shot up—it was one o’clock on a Tuesday, but Craig didn’t seem to mind my concerns one bit.

“I hear you’re doing well,” Craig said after he took his first gulp. He eyed me, ready to read whatever response I gave him.

“Working with Scott Michaels so far has been a privilege.”

“Enough of the pageant answers, Jessica. Tea time is for dishing.”

“And what do you think I have to dish about?”

“Look at you, an attractive young woman in a company full of power-hungry men. You must have your finger on the pulse of everything that goes on in there.”

“A lady never shows her hand, Mr. Sharp.” I smiled, taking a sip of my drink.

“Don’t listen to her, Craig. Jess isn’t old enough to be considered a lady.” At the sound of his voice, I almost choked on the whiskey. I whipped my head around, and there he was.

Spencer Michaels.

Dressed in a grey cashmere sweater and jeans, his bronzed skin and light hair seemed to glow golden. He looked like fucking Hercules, if Hercules went to Oxford.

“Spencer, it’s been too long, my friend,” Craig said, shaking his hand.

“What are you doing with this one?” Spencer responded, nodding in my direction.

“My name is Jessica,” I managed to get out.

“I’m getting to know her a bit. Scott said she’d be around for a while—”

“Did he?” Spencer smiled.

“What are you doing here, Spencer?” I asked, trying to sound genuinely curious.

“I have a meeting, but my guest is late. You don’t mind if I sit, do you?” he asked, already dropping into a chair.

“I’ll grab you a drink,” Craig announced, heading to the bar.

“You’re infiltrating all the right places,” Spencer accused.

“Infiltrating? I’m not James Bond.”

“Certainly not with that body,” he replied, and my cheeks burned.

Did he just say what I think he said? “How would you even know?” I fired back.

“Under good light, I can still make out shapes. You got my note?”

“Yes, thank you for that,” I said tersely, trying to get my anger under control and force myself to remain professional. Then he slid his chair closer to mine, which was enough to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.

“Jess, I’m going to be straight with you. You know I’m not happy you’ve been hired—”

“Oh, well, that’s a shock,” I snapped back, but as I said that, Spencer Michaels dropped his hand onto my thigh, silencing me. My breath hitched, and immediately, heat exploded between my legs. He leaned in close so his mouth was right next to my ear.

“I’m not happy you’ve been hired, but I don’t mind how you react to seeing me,” he whispered.

“What?” I snapped.

“Being blind means my other senses are heightened.”

“So?”

“I can smell you, Jess. I can smell your arousal.”

“EXCUSE ME?” I demanded, jumping up from my chair, but Spencer just stood up.

“Excuse me,” he said with a smile, and then he walked to a new table and took a seat.

“Is everything all right? Where’s Spencer?” Craig Sharp asked when he returned to the table with fresh drinks. I gestured. I couldn’t do much else. I was still trying to figure out what had just happened.