Chapter 8

I remember being really anxious when I entered the building on Monday morning. I was determined not to let our lack of foresight cost me my job. I wanted to quit my job with a great presentation for the scholarship committee, start my profession, and then return without having any more sex or daydreaming. Just a few more months of professional collaboration with Mr. Ramirez would suffice.

I put on a new outfit that Julia had given me to improve my self-confidence. It was just the perfect amount of suggestion without hugging my curves in the wrong areas. My underpants, though, was my hidden weapon. I had a taste for pricey undergarments and knew where to locate the greatest deals. I felt more powerful when I was wearing something seductive beneath my clothing, and the black silk panties with embroidered accents and delicate tulle ribbons in the rear would do the job. I was sure I could take anything Mr. Ramirez had to say and dish it back to him as the fabric of my dress stroked my exposed flesh with each stride.

Even though it wasn't precisely my job, I came early to get ready for the presentation. In the absence of a committed helper, Mr. Ramirez struggled to make meetings enjoyable. He offered no coffee or cakes, just a crowded room, immaculate slides, and handouts, and an infinite amount of work.

I gave myself a mental pep talk as I passed past the vacant lobby's gleaming granite floors and three-story-high travertine walls. I thought back on all the conflicts we had and the idiotic remarks he had said.

Don't write anything by hand; type instead. Miss Brown, your penmanship resembles that of a third-grader.

"I would fetch some popcorn and leave my office door open if I wanted to listen to the whole of your chat with your graduate adviser. Keep your voice down, please.

I had faith in my abilities. I wouldn't allow him to intimidate me since he had chosen the wrong lady to deal with. I grinned menacingly as I slid my palm to my behind and said, "Power panties."

I was eager to finish my work and depart with a strong presentation for the scholarship board, so I arrived at the office early on Monday. I had made the decision to stop having sex with Mr. Ramirez and to continue our working connection. I had put on a brand-new dress and pricey undergarments that fitted my curves without being too suggestive to bolster my confidence.

The office was vacant when I got there, as I had anticipated. After gathering all the required documents, I went to the conference room to prepare for the presentation. I was pulled to the conference table and the window wall while I was setting up, but I attempted to ignore my Pavlovian reaction and concentrate on my task.

I strolled over to the window after finishing the preparations since I had some free time and enjoyed feeling the smooth glass while daydreaming about Mr. Ramirez. His throat clearing suddenly shocked me, and I swung around to find him standing there.

He questioned sternly, "Daydreaming on the clock?"

I exhaled and said, "Mr. Ramirez," feeling awkward and taken aback. Then he told me that instead of using our regular conference room, he had chosen to deliver the presentation on the fourth level. This abrupt shift and his tone of speech upset me.

"Why did you wait until the very last minute to tell me?" I quizzed him.

"Because I am in charge. I set the guidelines and determine when and where things take place. Maybe you would have taken the time this morning to come to clarify the specifics with me if you weren't so bent on gazing out windows," he hissed, resting his hands on the table.

At his remarks, I had a wave of rage, but I managed to control it and act professionally. I was resolved to finish my work so that I could leave this organization on good terms.

As I saw him hitting him in the neck, I had a surge of aggressive feelings. It took all I had not to throw myself over the table and suffocate him. But I took a big breath and spoke through clenched teeth instead of losing my calm.

I finally managed to mutter, "Whatever," with obvious annoyance.

"This room never produces anything positive anyway." I wanted to scream at his self-satisfied look, but instead, I turned around and stormed out of the conference room. I was determined not to give him the gratification of watching me lose my cool.

Mr. Ramirez was already sitting in the new conference room when I walked in, his hands folded in front of him. Typical. I attempted to suppress my irritation as my eyes met his. I looked over and saw someone standing next to me, and to my astonishment, it was Elliott Ramirez.

He took some of my files and said, "Here, let me help you with that, Emily," so I could get the cart of food into the room with a little less difficult.

I appreciate it, Mr. Ramirez. I gave my supervisor a stern look.

"Emily," the senior Mr. Ramirez chuckled. He collected some handouts and passed the stack to the guests around the table. Do I have to tell you to call me Elliott another time? He had the same chiseled features as his two boys and was just as attractive. He was still one of the most handsome guys I'd ever seen, despite the fact that his formerly salt-and-pepper hair had become silver over the years since I first saw him.

I gave him a thankful smile and sat down. The question "How is Susan doing?"

She is doing well. He winked and continued, "She keeps bothering me about inviting you around. Next to me, I heard the younger Mr. Ramirez snorting angrily.

"Please say hello from me to her."

When I heard footsteps coming my way, Henry Ramirez welcomed me with a big smile. He said, "Hey, kiddo," and turned to face the others in the room. "I apologize, folks. I mistook us for meeting on your floor.

As the stack of handouts was handed to me, I took a gamble and sent my employer a smug glance. I gave him a copy of it. Mr. Ramirez, here you are.

He grabbed the stack and started leafing through them without giving me even a sidelong look.

As I took my seat, Henry held out two silver buttons and stated, "I'll see if anyone's misplaced these. I was embarrassed when I realized that I had forgotten about my destroyed shirt.

Jackass suddenly made a comment. He grabbed the buttons from his brother and said, "Henry, can I see those for a minute?" He smirked as he turned to face me. Don't you own a shirt with similar buttons?

I hastily looked around the room, but Henry and Elliott had already started talking to someone else. I said, attempting to seem unconcerned, "No, I don't."

Are you certain? The buttons were dropped into my hand by Jackass after he traced his finger from the inside of my arm to my palm. My hand was yanked back as if I had been scorched while my heart raced.

My cheeks became even more crimson as he proceeded to tease me, "I'm sure," I said.

I thought the blouse you were wearing the other day had little silver buttons. Those in pink? When you came seeking for me upstairs, I realized one of them was loose, so I do recall.

Anger surged through me. Was he implying that I had planned a strategy to leave him alone in the meeting room?

He leaned in close and said, "You really ought to try to be more cautious," in my ear.

My teeth were clenched. I responded, scarcely raising my voice above a whisper, "You bastard."

He backed off, seeming surprised as though I had breached some unwritten law. I was enraged. He had already treated me horribly, so to put my reputation in danger in front of other executives was unthinkable. Later, he was going to hear it all.