Mixed signals

ELIANA

"Goodnight, Miss Andrea," I called out as one of the senior staff members in my office left. She waved before disappearing down the hallway towards the elevator. 

I straightened my dress as I held the financial report in my hands before heading towards Mr. Blackwell's office. My heart was already beating fast by the time I got to his door. My palm hovered just over it, not knocking yet. For the past three days, I had been replaying that moment in his office in my head, where he was super close to me, his hand on my waist, the way he leaned in, and how his lips brushed mine when we kissed, how he tasted like expensive whiskey and how his hands cupped my breasts. 

It was not just a goddamn peck but a full-blown makeout session, if he had asked, I would have let him bend me over his desk, and yet he dismissed me like I was a hooker he paid to visit him, and I had never been that hurt in my life. At that point, I hated him but hated myself even more for closing my damn eyes, for letting him feel how much I wanted that kiss, and was angry at myself for wanting him that much. 

And so for that reason, I had avoided going to places where we might cross paths because I didn't want to be around him, but here I was in front of his door again. I couldn't avoid him forever, so let's get this over with so I can go home. 

I let out a breath, pressing a hand to my chest to steady the heartbeats. It was wrong to feel the way I did. This man was my boss and my best friend's father. Moreover, I was still healing from a heartbreak that broke me in ways I wasn't sure I would ever heal from. The last thing I needed was another man putting me in that same position.

"You can do this, Eliana; just go in, drop the folder, and then go home." And so I knocked. 

"Come in." I swallowed, pushed the door open, and stepped inside the office. As soon as I saw him, I forgot everything I was telling myself just outside the door, realising just how helpless I was whenever I saw his eyes. 

I forced myself forward, placing the financial report on his desk before glancing around the room, on the floor, on the bottle of wine in the trash, and even on the pen sitting by his right hand. Anywhere but those piercing blue eyes was fine. 

He leaned back, his chin resting on his hand while he flipped through the report I had prepared. "Tell me, Miss Ashcroft, based on this quarter's data you prepared, what do you predict for the next quarter's profit margin?" 

Just like that, my eyes darted to his and then at his lips. ‘Focus, Eliana.’

"Ten per cent increase, sir." 

"Why?" he asked. 

"Our new policy incentives are drawing in more corporate clients and if that continues, we will see stronger returns next quarter, sir." 

I watched as one corner of his mouth lifted before he asked another question. "And what about the operating expenses? Have you factored in the riding overhead?" 

My throat went dry as I immediately understood that he was testing me. "Yes, sir. Factoring in the projected overhead will cause the margin to adjust closer to seven per cent, which is an improvement compared to last quarter's five per cent." 

"And if one of the branches underperforms, what will happen?" His eyes lingered on me. 

I gave my answer confidently: "Then we redirect resources from the headquarters to cover the gap. It is temporary but the overall growth keeps us balanced, sir." 

He set the report down and leaned back in his chair before crossing his arms over his chest. "Good job Miss Ashcroft." A smile finally appeared on his face and I released a sigh of relief. 

He signed the report with his head low, I used that chance to stare at him as I wondered why he was even still in his office. It couldn't be because of the financial report because he could get that tomorrow but still, he waited. Was there a reason why he always buried himself in his work? Didn't he like going home? What about Serena? I wondered how she was doing? 

"Here," I snapped out of my thoughts and took the report from him before forcing a smile. "Goodnight, Mr. Blackwell."

I was halfway to the door when his voice stopped me. "Wait." Oh God, what again? 

"I will drop you off." Upon his words, I spun around quickly with my eyes wide open. My boss wanted to drop me off at my place? Not just Serena's father but The Theodore Blackwell, the richest billionaire in the city, wanted me to ride in his car? 

"That won't be necessary, sir," I said. 

His gaze hardened. "I wasn't asking Miss Ashcroft." And just like that, I watched as he picked up his phone and dialed a number. "Andrew, meet me at the front." 

This was really happening then. I nodded and then left his office to grab my bag. When I came downstairs, he was scrolling through his phone while resting by the car. 

It wasn't just any car but a freaking limousine. I had never been in one before. Just how rich was this man? He looked up at that point as if he read my mind, and I moved forward, reaching for the door, but his hand slid there at the same time, opening it for me, brushing against mine, and I felt another jolt of electricity shoot through me so hard that I nearly gasped. 

"Sorry," I removed my hand and stepped into the car quickly with the fear that he would see my knees buckle. 

The car was even more beautiful inside than it was outside. He slid in right next to me, his thigh brushing mine despite the fact that there was literally enough space to sit apart from each other while scrolling on his phone, his face unreadable. 

That slight contact lit my body on fire, and I immediately turned to the window, pretending to focus on the city when in fact all I could think of was the heat I felt between my thighs and what his scent did to me. Was he doing this on purpose? 

By the time we reached my apartment, it took me a few seconds to steady myself before I stepped out of the car. "Thank you for the ride, sir, and goodnight," I muttered before racing up to my doorstep, so I wouldn't say something silly. 

When I got inside my house, I searched for my phone inside my bag before ordering chicken from my favourite restaurant, which was close by. After that, I went into my bedroom to take off my clothes. My eyes landed on my vibrator lying on my bed. If only Theodore Blackwell knew what I did every night while thinking of him. 

"Stop it," I whispered to myself as I headed into the bathroom. I showered before slipping into my silk see-through nightgown. The gown barely covered anything, so I threw a robe on just as the doorbell rang. I tried to tie the robe as I hurried to the door before swinging it open. "You are early tonight, Troy..." I looked up to see Mr. Blackwell. 

My hand dropped from clutching my robe as I stared at him standing there in front of me. His broad shoulders filled the doorway as his gaze locked on me. "Mr. Black...well," what was he doing here? 

His eyes flickered down as he stared at my body; heat scorched my skin when I realised that the silk was practically see-through. I pulled the robe as I cleared my throat before giving him room to step inside. 

"Were you expecting someone?" He asked as I closed the door behind him. His question caught me off guard, and before I could respond, he asked another. "Your boyfriend?" 

"No," I almost screamed before composing myself. "He's the delivery guy," I added, and he nodded before strolling into my living room while I followed him from behind. 

Why was he asking? Did he care about me that way? Or worse, was he jealous? If Theodore Blackwell was jealous of an ordinary man, then I must be the hottest woman in the city. 

"Do you want water, sir?" I asked, desperate to break the tension between us. Then he turned to look at me. "I only came back because you left this in the car." He held up my tablet. 

I had not even realised that I left it. Why was I clumsy with my things around this man? I took it from him before muttering a thank you as I set it on the couch before hurrying into the kitchen to get the water when he followed. "You have a lovely apartment." 

"Thank you, sir." 

I reached up for a glass on the top shelf, stretching, but my fingers barely brushed it. What was I thinking when I placed this glass that high? I considered stepping away to get a stool when suddenly another hand covered mine. 

He reached higher, easily picking the glass as his chest pressed into my back, my ass pressed against him. I froze when I felt how hard his cock was in the middle of my ass, causing my pussy to drip. My nipples hardened under the silk, and I couldn't stop myself as my hips shifted slightly, grinding back into him slowly. 

I felt his hot breath on my neck as his hands followed suit, holding my neck in place, I moaned as I kept grinding my ass against his cock. Fuck it was so hard. I wanted him to just fuck…

My thoughts were cut short when he suddenly stepped back and cleared his throat. "Goodnight, Miss Ashcroft." His voice came out rough and before I could even say anything, he was gone. I stood in the kitchen, trembling, wet and angry. This has happened twice now. Why was he giving me mixed signals? Was this just a game to him?

What the hell was he doing to me?