she/her | writer
Generally giving off the energy of someone who would be singing
nonsensical stories in a pub.
Also on ao3 & Wattpad as modern_day_bard (links in pinned post)
18+ blog
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction
Summary:
Guinevere Russell is the sole heir to the multimedia conglomerate, Russell Corp. After obtaining her MBA and moving home to New York City, she’s been forced to return to a tumultuous relationship with her father and the rest of the board. Gwen would prefer to run off with her friends and see just how far she can take a distraction, and she’s perfectly happy doing so. That is, until her father hires a bodyguard to keep a watchful eye on her. She just can’t figure out if he was hired for her safety, or to uncover the secrets no one else knows she possesses…
Joel Miller is a personal security officer on leave from his last assignment, where he worked abroad for a U.S. embassy. He has avoided private security detail for years after a life-changing accident, but when he gets this call, the money is too good to pass up. But Joel has never met a client with such an aversion to being protected. Regardless of the paycheck, Joel will soon realize this is his biggest challenge yet, but not for the reason he thinks…
When their secrets, both past and present, collide in a mixture of tension and new-found feelings, the results can be catastrophic. Now, Gwen’s safety is put at risk more than ever before, and the two of them have to get to the bottom of the mystery, and what they mean to each other, before it’s too late.
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
a/n: This is a WIP! I’m writing more chapters while editing before I post. I hope to post on a consistent basis. I’m also posting this story on ao3 and Wattpad. Tumblr tends to take me the longest to post from, but I’m determined to make it happen!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Worth The Feeling: A Javi Gutierrez Fanfiction
Summary:
Ava Cohen is a 26-year-old production assistant working tirelessly to achieve her dream of one day becoming a film director. As hiatus from her last project comes to a close, she returns to set with Norwick Productions, whom she has worked with for the past four years. After a major fo paux on the first day of work, Ava is worried she has offended the star of this next production: Javi Gutierrez. She will soon come to realize, this couldn’t be further from the truth. When the cast and crew travel to Italy to film on location, the seriousness of what Ava is feeling becomes all too real, just as a new career opportunity lands in her lap. As tensions run high, watchful eyes set in, and her career is put at stake, can all of this be worth it in the end?
Content Warning: 18+
This story includes explicit smut, intimidation, and an age gap relationship (MC is 26, Javi is in his 40s). Minors, do not interact.
a/n: The full story is available on AO3 and on Wattpad as well for anyone who is interested. Thank you to anyone who reads my story! 🤍
Total word count: 93,547
Pairing: javi gutierrez x f!reader. No physical descriptors of the MC, except for her being shorter than Javi.
Pairing Disclaimer: the original pairing was Pedro x reader but after everything was released I felt very uncomfortable with that. If I was a celebrity, I wouldn’t want people to write that about me. I was creating a character as I wrote this story that was separate to Pedro, and after posting, I regretted my choice. I have edited all chapters to reflect this, as Javi’s love of movies and cheerful disposition makes sense for the character I created. Reblogged posts may still have the original pairing, as I’m unable to update them.
Chapter 1
Hiii to anyone who is listening! It's been a while since I posted on here. I finally have a new laptop which will make posting so much more feasible. It was becoming a nightmare. I was also sick for several weeks and other stuff was happening, and it's been a lot! I have posted a few more chapters on ao3 and wattpad because for some reason, those two never gave me trouble. I plan on getting all of those chapters published here soon!
Thanks for anyone who is reading <3
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 26: Point Guard
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 3.7k
Joel
How blissfully peculiar it is to wake up in complete silence. Last night, I can’t remember having one nightmare, or even a dream. I was just…rested. For the second night in a row, and for the first time in several years, I felt rested.
I wasn’t convinced that the dreams had spared me when I woke up to a pile of hair that looked like honey and smelled just as sweet. But I was really there, with Gwen, even if I had spent it on top of the covers again. She may have rolled her eyes at me, but we had other business to attend to without complicating things further. For now.
The news broke shortly after we arrived back at Gwen's temporary apartment two nights ago. Beyond the knowledge that it was out in the world, Gwen hadn’t checked on anything as far as I know. We received the notice from Janet, and got back to our routine. It must have bothered her a little, because she asked me to give her more self-defense lessons the night when we got back from Harper’s. I was happy to oblige, though we didn’t get through much before she was yawning non stop. She insisted she could keep going, but by the fifth time I mentioned sleep, she finally agreed.
Gwen also received the email with a detailed report of all of her staff’s updated background checks, which I now have reminded her to look at twice. The second time she said it was going to be her reading material on the way to Paris. The idea of being stuck on a plane with her reading through all of my search history was a little less than comfortable, but I can’t say that’s the most intimate thing we’ve done anymore.
We’ve both been more careful these last two nights, probably because of the news. Even still, there is an energy between us like we are at a constant battle of wills to see how long we can make it before we look at each other again. And when we do, a new battle begins of who will be able to break away first. In sleep, she’s always reaching for me. Her leg wrapping around mine, or her hand stretching out until she can find gentle purchase on my arm. A small, content smile forms on her lips every time she finds me, and it’s always a struggle to fall asleep after the high of seeing her like that.
I feel for her walking through the building these past two days. Everyone always watches her. Well, how could you not? But this time is different. There’s pity there, which I hope Gwen doesn’t notice. It would disgust her. She keeps her head held high, even if there is pity, concern, or curiosity. Only Julian has had the balls to actually ask her about it, but I’ve heard the whispers in the hallway once Gwen’s door is closed. They probably think their secrets are safe with me, as I’m also on staff. But I’d share anything I hear whenever she asks, just as happily as I’d continue to share her bed for as long as she’ll let me.
I wasn’t that happy, however, to be in the car now, on the way to a Knicks game, with Gwen and Paul chatting in the backseat.
Paul seemed alright enough. He had a slightly nervous energy every time we were around him, but for all I knew, he was like that with everyone. Whatever his nerves may be, he must do a good job at quelling them to have landed such a high position at Russell Corp.
Gwen mentioned this morning that she was hoping to switch departments, and Paul was the best person to talk to. It didn’t make sense to me why she wouldn’t just speak directly with her father when she has the same name as the company itself, but I went along with it. As we’re leaving for Paris tomorrow, this was the soonest available time for them to get together. And, as it seems, Gwen was trying to butter him up before asking the question outright.
As soon as we arrive at Madison Square Garden, I’m wishing that they had chosen just to get dinner.
Carlos and Jace were almost a package deal with me at this point, and they arrived before we did to give us extra cover as Paul and Gwen exit the car. Even still, this place is packed. Packed and very, very loud. Road noise aside, there were hundreds of fans around every corner that seemed to already be incredibly drunk, some shouting across the large hallways of the arena. I felt a little relief when Gwen had donned a Knicks baseball cap as we left the office, providing her a bit more camouflage. That relief fades away as many people in similar gear still turn to see who the woman in heels is, and why she would be surrounded by bodyguards.
It doesn’t seem to phase Gwen as she laughs with Paul, lightly touching his arm. She seems to know exactly where she is going through the crowds, even though myself, Jace, and Carlos are technically the one’s leading her to her father’s suite. I stand just a hair closer to her than necessary, keeping my hand hovering behind her back. The way several of the men passing by have eyed her makes my jaw lock into place. It was unlikely the stalker would be here tonight, but that didn’t make Gwen immune to unwanted attention.
I’m grateful to see that there is a glass barrier between us and the rest of the fans once we are in the suite.
I stand by the door, folding my arms, expecting to stay here for the duration of the game, but after Gwen shows Paul over to the food, she comes up to me, smiling sweetly.
“Mr. Miller, won’t you join us for the game?” She bats her eyelashes, extending her arm toward the seats. She’s still playing with me, even with our one sided feud now dead and buried. After a quick glance to confirm Paul was too engrossed in the catering to notice, I gave her a wink. And just as I thought, her smile turned mischievous.
As I join her at our seats, she asks, “Are you a basketball fan?”
I shake my head, “No ma’am. Football, sometimes.”
“Have you ever been to a game?”
“A few. Never in a suite like this,” I glance behind us at the spacious room with leather couches, standing tables, and a kitchenette complete with drinks and catered food.
Gwen thinks for a moment. “Would Carlos and Jace like a seat as well?” They had remained outside as instructed.
“Unfortunately, they need to be outside to guard the door.” I normally would offer to switch, but I didn’t trust anyone but myself to look after her. Even my confidence that my own abilities dwindled sometimes.
Gwen looks a little disappointed, but she nods as Paul takes a seat on her right with a plate full of food.
The first half of the game is exciting, with both teams trading off the lead. I learn that the Knicks are playing the Bucks, and it’s tight right up until the buzzer. It’s impressive, watching it all unfold from what are probably the best seats in the house. I’m even more impressed that Gwen waits until halftime to lay into Paul.
“So, Paul, I’m really hoping to talk to you about transitions.”
“Oh?” Paul is fixated on the dancers making their way to the mid court line.
“Yes. Specifically, a transition for me from radio to the Isla Foundation.”
This quickly gets his attention. “Oh,” He glances at me for a moment, but I pretend I’m watching the first few rows in front of us. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Really?” Gwen’s voice is innocent, and just the right amount of shocked. “Why? I thought I was supposed to gain some understanding of the entire company. Not just our least profitable sector.”
Paul clears his throat. “You are—that’s true. Why don’t we move you to theme parks? Maybe that would be a good move before changing to entertainment?”
There’s a beat where Gwen purses her lips, pretending to think. I know she’s thought the entire conversation through numerous times. She just needs Paul to believe that she is actually considering his unacceptable offer, even if for a moment.
“So, if that were the goal, would I move to the Isla Foundation after entertainment?”
“Um…” Paul glances at the door absentmindedly. “I’m not sure.”
“What’s a ballpark timeline?” It’s the most calm voice I’ve ever heard for an interrogation.
“Guinevere…” Paul starts, looking at her, looking away, shifting in his seat. “I can’t say for sure.”
“Can you tell me why I’m not allowed on the philanthropy board at least?”
“I never said you weren’t allowed.”
“And yet you won’t allow it.” There’s just a hint of sharpness to her now, even as she lounges back in her chair, her arm slung over the side of Paul’s. She watches him like a lynx. Completely relaxed, even right before she goes in for the kill.
After Paul’s prolonged silence, she sighs, leaning forward to grab her drink off the small table in front of us. “Paul, you won’t be in trouble for telling me something that I, most likely, already know. Why won’t you let me join that side of the company?”
“It’s not me!” Paul’s hands go up, and then dread and realization cascade over him. He runs a hand through his partially graying hair, exasperated. “It’s not me. I was just given instruction that you were too…risqué to be part of either charity.”
Paul may be the messenger here, but I’d still like to punch him across the face for that one.
“Risqué?” Gwen asks carefully.
“Yes. With your social media accounts, bikini photos, the rumors of your dating history…” Paul trails off, clocking the stare I’m giving him now. “It’s not what I believe, Gwen. Really, it isn’t. But I was told that you weren’t to go near the Isla Foundation for PR purposes.”
Gwen nods slowly, absorbing the insult as Paul watches her nervously and music blasts throughout the arena around us.
“What about the other PR stunts? What about the rumors of some of the men on the board? Murphy is doing photo ops for the foundation, for Christ’s sake.”
Paul’s voice softens. “It’s not my choice, Gwen. I agree with you.”
“What about the Russell Foundation? Why can’t I get started there?”
Paul contemplates this momentarily. “That one is…possible. I’m not sure if it’s off limits or not but we could try.”
To me, that sounds pretty promising. To Gwen, knowing far more than me, it’s not enough. “What does trying look like?”
Paul runs a hand down his face, and the crowd cheers as the teams reenter the court. Only a few moments left to seal the deal. “You mentioned you were leaving tomorrow? By the time you get back, I will have placed you somewhere else. I will try to see what I can do about the Russell Foundation.”
Gwen purses her lips. “Do you think you could do more if this suite was available to you for the rest of the season?”
Paul smiles now, “It couldn’t hurt.”
Gwen’s returning smile is warm, all signs of the lynx vanishing. “That sounds like a good start.” She clinks her glass against his just as the buzzer sounds.
- - -
I feel some of the tension ease from my jaw and shoulders when we get back into the car, and even more so when we are finally dropping Paul off at his building. Rodney pulls over to the curb, and I pretend not to be eavesdropping.
“Thank you, Guinevere. You know how to show a guy a good time.”
I clench my fists in the front seat. His tone doesn’t exactly read as innocuous.
“Of course. I hope you’ll keep what we discussed in mind and I’ll speak to you as soon as I get back.”
“Right. See you then,” Paul leaves the car, and Gwen slumps back in her seat. I wish I was the one driving so I could see her face in the rearview mirror. That way I could at least try to determine how she thought it went.
Back at her new building, we follow our routine. Gwen says goodnight to all three of us, and I enter my room long enough to hear their door close. Usually I would shower before going to her room, but I want to see if we can squeeze in some more self-defense training before she gets too tired this time. Five minutes later, and I’m lightly knocking on a door that is opened before I can finish.
“He’s such a liar, isn’t he?” Gwen scoffs after the door closes behind me.
“About…which part?” I take a seat on the couch, even though my sheet and pillows have been moved to her bed several nights ago.
“All of it. And saying that it’s because I’m too ‘risqué,’ meanwhile they’ve paid thousands in hush money over the years even before they came to work for my father. Ridiculous.”
She’s pacing back and forth, still in her heels. I imagine she’s been pacing since we got home.
“He seemed like he was telling the truth to me. He’s just so nervous that—”
“No, no. My father is the liar. Poor Paul is just the messenger. Who else would tell him that he shouldn’t add me to my own mother’s foundation? Only other board members would even have the authority to do that. You’d think my seat would count for something, but apparently I'm not allowed to sit in it all the time.”
She stops, taking a deep inhale.
“You mentioned Murphy again.” I couldn’t help but say it. None of it is my business, and it hasn’t been my business since I arrived. But that didn't stop me from wondering. Didn’t stop the anger rising in my body when she mentioned him or Ralph and whatever happened between them.
“The groom, yes.” Her mind is somewhere else, her eyes scanning across the floor.
“What I mean is, what happened with him? And Ralph?”
This gets her attention, or at least part of it. “What do you mean?”
“You mentioned him again tonight, and I know their presence is one of the worst parts of Wednesday dinners. What did they do?”
“Oh. They’ve just made weird comments over the years.”
I give her a minute, both of us knowing I won’t be satisfied with that answer. But being who she is, she doesn’t give in to me right away.
“What sorts of comments, Gwen?” I ask softly.
“Ugh, I don’t know. Comparing me to my mom to start. Saying that they were lucky to have me since she was already taken.”
My fists clench at my sides for the second time tonight. “Which one said that?”
“Ralph. Murphy agreed. I was sixteen at the time—it was a family birthday party. Murphy also commented on my bathing suit that day.”
An extra deep cut with Paul’s comment tonight, I imagine.
“Anyway,” Gwen sighs, as if we were discussing the weather, “Murphy ramped it up when I was eighteen. I remember one truly egregious comment about the size of my chest,” she laughs without humor, “But thankfully I was off to college by then. When I interned, he backed off quite a bit. My guess is it was due to seeing me in the boardroom, reminding him that I’d be his boss one day. But that’s just a guess.”
“Gwen…” I say even softer than before, “That’s sexual harassment.”
And to add to my frustration, she rolls her eyes. “You think I don’t know that? I have my own plans for them once I do take over, but unfortunately, like most things in this world, I’m playing the long game. It’s not a simple task to cut out a board member. Most of the time you have to wait and hope they step down.”
“I know you know. I just meant…I’m shocked that they feel comfortable doing so.”
She smiles at me in a sardonic way that makes my stomach churn. “Money makes everyone comfortable with doing bad things.”
Finally, with another sigh, she perches on the edge of one of the dining room chairs, settling somewhat. “It seems to be common with them. Even Cryus. I like him enough, but his wife just divorced him not too long ago. Rumor has it that it was for cheating with multiple women. The Russell Corp epidemic, I suppose.”
I want to know if she ever told her father. And if she did, what did he do? Not enough, if these men were still working for him, earning millions each year under his name. It made me want to go back to the night where Cyrus joined Gwen in the hot tub so I could walk in and rip him out of the water. Maybe he hadn’t been one of the men to say disgusting things to a teenager, but they were all complicit in it.
“Joel?” Gwen’s quiet voice anchors me. “You look like you…have a headache or something.” Her eyes dart down to my still-clenched fists, and I release them quickly.
I shake my head in hopes of clearing it. “Sorry. It’s…unsettling, hearing those things even secondhand. And I’m sorry you had to hear them from men like that.”
“You’re angry,” she whispers. I guess I hadn’t thought to filter my tone.
“Yes. That shouldn’t have happened to you. I wish I had been there…”
“You didn’t even know me then.”
“They don’t even know you now.”
This makes Gwen’s gaze soften further, and she looks almost concerned watching me. After a few moments of us measuring each other’s expressions, she kicks off her shoes.
“Are we doing more self-defense tonight?”
I shouldn’t be surprised that she’d still be game even after all that.
“You’re the boss, Miss Russell. You tell me.”
“Unfortunately, I think it would be a good idea.” She hops up from her chair, shrugging off her blazer. “That is, unless you’re too tired.”
I can tell she’s sincere in the way she says it, but I still see it as a challenge. “Not at all.” I stand from my place on the couch, meeting her in the middle of the kitchen.
“Let’s start with what you remember.” I try not to read into the way she scans me head to toe as I approach her. “Can we try a wrist grab?”
Gwen nods. “Go on.”
I grab her wrist, gently at first, before bringing it up and attempting to yank it behind her back. Gwen quickly turns her hand and twists away from me, breaking the hold.
“Good. Now, both hands.”
I grab both of her wrists, holding them tightly in front of her. She yanks them toward her sides, but doesn’t break free.
“Harder,” I tell her.
She yanks them sharply, all the way to her sides this time, making sure to step back as strong as possible.
“Perfect.”
She smiles. “Now if only my attacker will tell me what he’s going to do before he does it.”
I grab her wrist quickly, softly, but still catching her off guard. I pull her closer to me so I can whisper, “If you ever have an attacker make it this far, then I’ve failed you. And I expect you to take out all that anger on him.”
She narrows her gaze at me. “It doesn't necessarily mean you’ve failed. What if someone broke in here while you were in your room?”
I drop my voice an octave lower. “We both know I won’t be in my room.”
Her face flushes, and I know I won this round.
“I’ll show you how to break out of a hold from behind, and then you can take a shower.”
“Is that your polite way of telling me I smell?”
I dip my head lower so that my nose nudges her neck. “You smell amazing. But again, I know you always shower before bed.”
She sighs a little before answering, “Right.”
We play out a few of the maneuvers, and I explain to her how to break out of a hold around her waist and her neck. Just like the other night, she is far more focused than a few months ago. She nods intently, listening to every word, and mimicking my motions before she tries them herself.
“Okay, this time is full force. And then we can call it quits. Ready?” I tap her shoulders gently before letting go, and she nods her head in the affirmative.
I lunge forward, wrapping my arm around the sides of her shoulders so she can’t lift her arms. Immediately, she shifts one of her hands through our center, grabbing onto my opposite arm. Pushing against, she breaks apart, pretending to elbow me in the gut before turning and kicking out with her foot.
“Good girl. Well done.” I smile at her, impressed, but her eyes flare with something else. “I think I preferred dancing, though. Your elbow had a little punch to it.”
“Maybe you just have to be a bit quicker,” she tosses a lock of hair behind her, straightening her top.
“Or you’re just a quick learner. It wasn’t like that the first time.”
“Oh?” Gwen starts finger-combing her hair, sounding mildly interested.
“Yeah, you ran out on me pretty quick. Why’d you start paying attention?”
She shrugs, “The threat feels a little different now...and there’s people I care about at stake,” Then, on a dime, her voice turns playful. “Plus last time, I was too turned on to think,” She smiles at me as if she just told me to have a good night, and struts off toward the bathroom.
Wait.
“What?” I call after her, a stunned laugh escaping my lips.
I follow her, determined to hear the explanation, but she’s already closed the bathroom door. Lust and curiosity encourage me to knock, and I listen to them.
“Yes?” Gwen calls innocently through the barrier.
“Care to explain?” I ask just as sweetly.
The shower turns on, and it’s even harder to hear her reply. “Go shower so we can get some sleep, Joel. We have an early flight tomorrow!”
I sigh, leaning my forehead against the cool wood. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I whisper, knowing my center of gravity can’t hear me through the door.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 25: Visuals
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 3.6k
Gwen
Twice.
A few minutes later, it’s three times.
I know I’m staring, and he knows it too. In the past few minutes alone, we’ve made eye contact three—well, now four, times. But if I don’t keep it together, everyone else in the room will realize it. Best case scenario, they think I’m disinterested in the budget for the possible expansion to three of our stations on the West Coast. Which would be, I think, completely understandable. Even Julian has stifled a few yawns in the past two hours. Worst case scenario, someone calls me out for eye-fucking my bodyguard in public.
He wore the leather jacket to the office today, my own personal form of torture and he doesn’t even know it. As if I needed any more reasons to have flashbacks all day long.
I don’t think I’ve ever actually enjoyed doing that with a man before. I’ve faked the enthusiasm, given them the doe-eyes, and pretended that there was nothing else I’d rather do. That was the first night in my life that there was literally nothing else I’d rather do. And unlike before, he insisted he take care of me afterwards, and also unlike before, I declined. All I wanted was to make him feel good, to show him that he is deserving of all things positive and pleasurable. Of course it turned me on to see the veins straining in his hands clutching onto the sheets, and to hear him lose his mind from my touch. But the thought of doing anything for myself afterward was somewhere too far away to fathom. As long as Joel enjoyed himself, I did too.
That part I was going to keep to myself for a while. Or at least, far away from Nyah. Or Harper and Landon for that matter. I barely know what I’m feeling, and trying to explain that out loud would just make them more excited before I even know how to handle it. Plus there is the logistical and ethical nightmare of the fact that he is employed by my father, and he is supposed to be protecting me. And he is. He’s just making me feel…a lot while doing so.
“Do we think that’s a realistic timeline?” Carter, one of the junior data analysts, asks Julian. I at least turn my head to feign diligence.
Julian nods slowly, looking through the blueprint in front of him. “It will be tight, but we knew that…” He continues, but I can feel Joel watching me again through the glass. I risk one more glance upward, and the man is smirking at me now. Bastard.
I push my thighs together underneath the table, returning my gaze back to Julian.
One more painful hour later, and we’re done. I was itching to be alone with Joel again, but Julian follows us all the way back to my office, discussing tomorrow’s calendar on the way. When we stop outside my door, I get the urge to ask him. “Do you know what Paul’s schedule is like tomorrow?”
Julian thinks for a moment. “No, but his assistant would be able to answer. Why?”
Because I don’t want to be involved in radio longer than I have to be.
“I had a few questions for him. No biggie. Thanks, Julian.” I give him a smile before walking around to the other side of my desk, and he takes the hint to leave.
Joel hovers by the door.
“Yes, Mr. Miller?” I unbutton my blazer to take a seat, making a show out of crossing my legs.
He smirks at me again, and a rare jolt of nerves runs down my spine as he walks in and closes the door.
“Do you want lunch first, or the bad news first?” He asks.
I sigh. “Bad news, please.”
“Arthur and Janet called during your last meeting. The news is breaking today, probably in just a few hours for online publications. They’re doing a few other celebrity gossip releases at the same time. It will hopefully steer people away from your case.” He watches my face carefully for my reaction, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel anymore. Instead, a new thought pops into my head.
“Do you think the publication will…encourage the stalker in any kind of way?”
Joel mulls it over, running a hand down his face the way he always seems to in times of stress. “I don’t think so, but it’s impossible to know. Some of these guys would be scared back into the shadows after a release like that. Others might…”
He pauses for so long that I’m afraid he won’t finish the thought.
“Might what, Joel?”
“They might derive some sort of pleasure from the whole thing. The article mentions that you moved residences, and I think that’s the worst thing they can put in there. I can see some asshole somewhere being pleased with himself that he’s made a large enough impression for you to leave your home.”
“Wouldn’t he just be focused on finding me again?”
“Probably. But it would start with the feeling of success, that you know who he is now, in his eyes.”
“I wish I knew who he was,” I mumble.
“You and I both.” His rigid posture and agitated tone tells me everything I need to know about what might happen to the stalker if Joel ever found him.
My phone buzzes and I look down to see a text from Nyah, only to notice that it’s past five o’clock.
I raise an eyebrow at Joel. “You’re asking about lunch and it's almost dinner time?”
“You never ate lunch,” he eyes an unopened salad container on my desk. “I brought it to you and it was still untouched when we left for the budget meeting. Thought you could use the reminder.”
I glare at him despite the butterflies in my stomach. “You weren't hired to be a detective.”
“I’ve done several things I wasn’t hired to do.” His eyes are playful, his voice low…
I need to keep it together. In this building, at least. In my new apartment building, however…that’s fair game.
My phone buzzes yet again from Nyah.
“Is it the story?” He asks as if he wasn’t just alluding to our incredibly unprofessional escapades.
“No, it’s Nyah.” I pick it up, swiping the messages open. “She’s asking about Paris. I’m assuming it’s sort of out of the question now that the story will break, though.”
I start to type as Joel asks, “Do you want to go?”
Huh.
I hadn’t actually thought about what I wanted. “It sounds fun. Nyah has wanted to work with Andre Bacri for the longest time. It would be great to get the chance to cheer her on…”
“So, let’s go.”
He says it like we were, in fact, just talking about lunch.
“What?” I chuckle a little, but he’s serious.
“Time away from the city wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing. Most stalkers like this most likely won’t have the means to follow you across the world. And, I’m no public relations expert, but a couple of pictures of you out and about as if nothing happened might help the press.”
I blanch at him.
“You—the most overprotective man on the planet—think Paris is a good idea?”
A small smile tugs on his lips. “Not overprotective. Just protective,” he lowers his voice, taking another step toward my desk even though the door is still closed. “If I remember correctly, you yourself told me to guard your body.”
I hate how much of an effect this man has on me. My complexion, my breathing, my thoughts... And I hate how much I don’t want it to stop.
“Do you want to go?” He asks again, reveling in my silence.
“Yes, I would like to go.” I straighten up in my chair, determined not to get further distracted by how impossibly broad his shoulders look at this angle.
“Okay. I’ll run it by Janet to make sure it won’t do any harm.”
“Thanks, Joel.” I say it the way I would to anyone else, leaning over to power up my computer. But his name alone is enough for him to linger a moment longer, eyes drifting a little lower than what could be classified as appropriate.
With his hand on the doorknob, he asks, “Anything else I can do for you, Gwen?”
“Not at the moment, no,” My eyes flick over to him with a challenge, “Maybe later tonight. I’ll let you know.”
“I’m at your service.” He doesn’t miss a beat, which only makes me hate him more.
I start emailing Paul’s assistant before Joel has finished closing the door.
I liked Julian and the rest of the team, but I don’t have an interest in the radio part of the company. Ideally, I would be training directly underneath my father. I did for a summer or two, but in light of recent events, that privilege has been revoked. I know that it’s a long-shot for him to allow me to work for either the Russell Foundation or my mother’s foundation, also in light of recent events. Particularly those that are better kept under wraps. But from what I know, I’m wondering if I can use it as leverage. At the very least, if it’s not my mother’s charity, maybe he will be willing to put me under the Russell Foundation.
That’s where Paul comes in. If I can talk Paul into allowing me to work under him as one of the board members for Russell’s Corporation’s philanthropic side, I can bypass my father altogether. I know that he likes basketball and wasn’t able to score season passes this year, and I also know that my father hardly ever uses his box at Madison Square Garden. I just have to hope Paul isn’t above bribery. With this crowd, it's likely that he isn’t.
After checking a few more things off my list, I take another look at my phone to see several missed messages. Skimming through, Harper had someone over last night and she desperately wanted to reenact how bizarre they behaved. She was promising that only in person would do it justice.
I feel my heart clench, remembering that in a matter of hours all of the stalker information will be public knowledge. Public knowledge that my friends weren’t privy of, and will undoubtedly hear about it from a random source instead of their friend. Part of me wants to believe that whatever celebrity gossip Janet and her team are cooking up will bury my information so deep that my friends won’t hear of it. But I’ve been doing too much wishful thinking lately. They need to hear it from me directly, and soon.
- - -
To my surprise, Joel didn’t fight me when I said I wanted to go to Harper’s apartment. I had prepared a small defensive speech about how we can take a winding way home, not that Rodney and him wouldn’t have planned that anyway, but I didn’t need it. All I said was that I think they need to hear it from me, and he agreed. I was even more surprised when we arrived, he did a sweep of the place, and agreed to wait just outside.
All four of our faces were still dumbfounded even after he closed the door.
“How much did you pay him for that?” Landon jokes, taking a seat by Harper’s large bay window.
“I guess it’s pro bono.” I sit on one of the floor cushions across from them. “So, Harper, tell us about last night.” I gesture for Nyah and her to walk over and join us, but Harper shakes her head.
“I have to show you guys what happened in the bedroom. Well, I guess I can start here.” She’s bouncing up on her tiptoes in excitement.
Nyah takes a seat next to me, leaning into my side. Harper starts in the kitchen, saying that her overnight guest took a look through her fridge before running a hand along the wall, looking for…
“Your wifi, maybe?” Landon offers.
“Or maybe she was just admiring your exposed brick?” asks Nyah skeptically.
“I don’t know but it was weird. She wasn’t shy, but she spent all this time in the front of the apartment, looking at my walls and stuff. I mean, thanks to Lands, I’ve got some killer art so—”
“That’s probably why,” they wink.
“Exactly. But, anyway, we’re on the couch and I thought we were going to get to it, but then she starts asking about all my plants.”
“You do have a lot of plants. More since the last time I was here, actually,” I say. Harper’s apartment was absolutely stunning with its eclectic, bohemian charm. Even the beams above us had vines of some sort running through them, so that question, at least, wasn’t that unusual.
“You need plants in an oasis,” she says like it’s a cardinal rule, “But anyway, we’re kissing and stuff but every time I go to do a little more, she pulls away. So, I’m like okay, she’s not into it. That’s fine. But then she gets up and just walks upstairs without saying anything. Turns on all the lights, and I just hear her walking around up there.”
“Maybe that was her way of saying ‘let’s take it to the bedroom.’” Nyah drops her voice to a sultry level for the last part.
“I followed her, obviously. And she was pacing around like she meant business. I would have thought it was coke or something but I’d been with her most of the night.”
“Remember that guy last year who paced before and after sex?” I muse.
“Oh my god, yes! Except this woman, Layla, was pacing in between rooms. At least that guy kept it to one space. She kept commenting on the apartment, which was nice but I was just super confused.”
“So you guys didn’t hook up?” Landon asks.
“No, we did,” Harper grins, “Come on, that’s what I want to show you.”
The three of us exchange a look before following her up the stairs. The next ten minutes is Harper physically acting out last night’s affairs that went from the hallway, to the bedroom, to the shower. Besides the pacing, and what Harper described as staring into each windowsill, the two of them seemed to have a pretty good time.
“And, she left as soon as we were done.”
“Is that weird too?” Nyah watches Harper flop down on the bed.
“I guess not. Usually it’s guys who want to leave right away, sometimes girls do, but I don’t know. She was quite a bit older, so maybe the rules are different. I just thought the pacing and checking and questions were so weird. But I didn’t even get her number so the mystery will remain unsolved.” Harper sits up, slapping her hands on her legs. I take that as our cue to go back downstairs, but Landon puts their hands up.
“Wait. This might be easier to discuss up here.”
I give them a curious look.
“Speaking of good sex…” their eyes land on me. I wait, wondering if I can play it off.
“You and Elijah…?” I circle one hand over the other, thinking that might be where they’re going with it.
“Well, obviously. But I’m talking about you.”
My gut fully drops now.
“Oo! With who?” Harper turns to lay on her stomach, her feet kicking in the air behind her.
“Who do you think? The bodyguard she can never stop complaining about.”
“What?” I gasp, turning whirling on Nyah. “You told them?”
Nyah’s eyes grow wide and she shakes her head, but before she can say anything, Harper and Landon chime in simultaneously.
“Told us what?”
“There’s something to tell?”
Oh shit.
Nyah didn’t say anything. I should have known.
I sigh, sitting down on the edge of Harper’s bed. “I was going to tell you all sooner. And technically, it wasn’t sex, sex. I called Nye the morning after it happened, but there was some other stuff I found out right after, the reason I had to cancel. And everything became too much and—”
“Gwen, it’s okay.” Landon’s voice is careful now. “I was just teasing. Tell us whatever you want to tell us.”
“I really was going to tell you both, it’s just hard to find time away from him. And he probably doesn't want anyone to know. He told me he’s never been with a client before. I can’t imagine it’s usually encouraged.” I laugh lightly and both Nyah and Landon take a seat in front of me.
“If it’s any consolation, I can just always tell when you’ve had sex. It was a lucky guess that it was Joel.” Landon says softly.
“Lucky guess, and the fact that we all know he’s damn good looking,” Harper smiles, nudging my shoulder. “So, what’s the issue?”
I tell them everything. Even though I know it will worry Harper, and for that reason I’m glad I can’t see her face unless I crane my neck. I tell them about the gifts, the messages, the breaking of the windows, the lie about the fumigation and why I switched apartments, the background checks of my team, the fact that they aren’t allowed to know where I’m staying now. I don’t go into all the details about Joel and me, mostly because I’m too embarrassed to admit I asked him to stay. But I tell them that he did stay in my room at home with me, and that he’s been staying in my new room since we moved in. When I’m done, I take a big breath, and finally feel a relief wash over me that I haven’t felt in a long time. Not all my secrets were out, but having a few less on my shoulders was a good start.
We sit in silence for a few minutes before Nyah speaks up.
“When will the story break?”
I shrug. “Probably in the next hour or two if it hasn’t already.”
She grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I knew there were weirdos online but this is a completely different level.”
Harper hugs my shoulders from behind me. “I’m sorry, too.” After a beat she adds, “But I’m also super proud of you for sleeping with Joel.”
All of us burst out into laughter. “What?” I ask, still giggling.
“That’s not what I mean! I mean, I’m proud of you for hooking up with him, sure. But you’re letting him in. Even a little! And I think that’s great.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m still smiling. “Yes, well, we’ll see. It’s not exactly an ethical relationship.”
“You told me he tried telling you that and you kept refuting everything he said.” Nyah raises a brow at me, and I whack her lightly.
“Whatever! He was…we were…It made sense at the time.”
“Are you going to do it again?” Landon asks.
“I don’t know. I don’t know if he’ll want to.”
This time, the three of them are the ones exchanging looks.
“What?”
Landon speaks slowly, delicately. “It’s…the way he looks at you. I get it, all bodyguards have to watch their clients, but—he’s clearly infatuated with you.”
I can feel my heart rate pick up, but I shake my head. “Infatuation doesn’t mean anything.”
“Even if you look at him the same way?” They still say it gently, but it feels like a harsh slap of vulnerability. Like someone had seen the things I conceal even from myself, polished them, and placed them on a table in front of me. I’m not ready to face that reflection just yet.
“I tell you guys I have a stalker and this is what we’re talking about?” I try to laugh it off, and tonight, they let me. They have me go over a few more of the details, and Harper pulls out her phone to go through my comments. The thought of finding someone who writes similar comments to the gift notes is good and all, but there’s too many of them. And the notes were too short to really grasp onto anything.
“What did you do when you thought someone had broken in?” Nyah asks, concern etched on her perfect features.
“I grabbed a bookend and I went out to help Joel.”
“What?” Harper screeches. “You could have been killed!”
“I know, I know. I was just thinking that it could be like four guys against just him and I was picturing him getting hurt, unable to call for help and…” My voice catches slightly on the memory, and I clear my throat as quickly as I can.
Three pairs of shocked eyes are resting on me.
“What?” Unfortunately, my voice still shakes a bit as I ask.
“Like I said,” Landon gives me a small smile, “You look at him the same way.”
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 24: Remembering
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 3.8k
Joel
I was still too slow.
I throw myself at the door. Again, and again, and again. But it doesn’t matter. I can’t get through, and the pain of the silence, promising that something has already been lost, rings out all around me until I want to scream just to hear anything other than nothing. So, I do. I scream, and scream and no one comes to help. And I’m here to help, but she’ll never know. She—
“Joel,” a voice in the distance breaks through the quiet. It isn’t enough to break down the door though.
“Joel,” a little louder this time. “Wake up.”
There’s a hand on my shoulder, shaking me, trying to take me away from the door. I won’t leave her. I’ll keep bashing against the wood until it breaks apart. It has to. I have to—
“Joel,” the hand on my shoulder shakes me, much harder this time. “Wake up!”
My eyes fly open with a start, and I’m catching my breath as quickly as I can. I grab at the wrist on my shoulder, ready to fight off whoever is trying to pull me away.
“Hey, hey,” the soft voice gets closer, and I feel another hand, this time on the side of my face. “You’re okay.”
I blink in the darkness, finding Gwen’s pained eyes staring back at me. I immediately let go of her wrist.
“I’m sorry,” I croak.
She just shakes her head, like she has no idea why I would say that. Her hand is still on the side of my face, pushing a few strands of hair away, her thumb gently stroking my cheek.
“You were having a nightmare,” her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. I attempt to sit up, but she shushes me, and her fingers tickle me as she tucks another strand behind my ear. So instead, I let my head fall back against the pillow on the couch. I scoot my hip over to give her some more room from where she’s perched on the side.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say after a few minutes.
“You didn’t.” I give her a suspicious look, and she rolls her eyes. “I mean it. I hadn’t fallen asleep yet.”
“What time is it?”
“Um…” she glances at the kitchen stove. “Almost three.”
“Almost three and you haven’t slept?” Concern washes over me, prickling my arms.
“I was wasting time on my phone.”
I want to argue with her, to let her know that her lie didn’t land…but her hand feels so good brushing across my face like that, and I worry an argument might make her stop. She tends to talk with her hands.
After another minute, she asks, in a voice falling on eggshells, “Who’s Sarah?”
My entire body runs cold, and the panic must be etched on my face, because she adds, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You were…calling out to her, is all. You called out to her back in my apartment, too.”
I take a few breaths, focusing on her hand that doesn’t falter, and her other one that has now cautiously wrapped around the top of mine, resting on my stomach. The softness of her skin was like a balm over my nerves that felt like they’d been replaced with live wires. Her eyes are patient, focusing on every reaction I have.
“She’s…” my voice is already twisted with emotion. “She was the daughter of a client.”
Gwen’s motions cease, but only for a fraction of a second. I realize that she’s waiting for me to continue.
“She passed away a long time ago. Under my watch.”
“What happened?” She whispers.
I shake my head lightly, closing my eyes. I don’t think I can look at her face when I tell her. To see it fall—to realize that I’m a failure. That I might have failed her, too. But she is bound to find out at least part of the story with the report she’ll be getting. It would be better to hear it from me.
“I haven’t done private security detail in years. I’ve chosen to be abroad because, working for families…seeing what can happen if you’re not careful…” my voice catches again, and Gwen’s quiet shushing encourages me to continue. “I was in charge of the father. He was a new senator, not very well-known. They were having a birthday party for their oldest daughter. Everyone on the guest list had a background check. It wasn’t even that big of a party, and the day was almost over. My job the entire day was to stand near the senator. That’s what my boss told me. Just stand near him, make sure no one threatening approached him, that sort of thing. Then, after the birthday cake was handed out, their youngest, Sarah, went missing. Apparently some of the kids were playing hide and seek. We didn’t know that at the time, though, so the party went into lockdown. The senator ordered me to look for his daughter, so I did. And I had the unfortunate job of finding her.”
I take a few more breaths, and Gwen doesn't say a word. She continues to lightly play with my hair, her other hand brushing over mine.
“Her bedroom door was locked. That was the first sign of trouble. I started to call to her to open the door, but there was no answer. Then I feared the worst, that there was someone else in there with her. I beat down the door and found her curled up on the floor…” The clamp around my throat tightens. “She was allergic to peanuts. Everything that day had been planned accordingly to avoid it, but somehow, she was exposed. They’re still not sure what happened. In fact, the family still believes there could have been foul play involved. Especially since her bedroom window was left open with no sign of Sarah trying to crawl out—” The image of her possibly trying to reach toward a window for help to no avail grips my gut. “She was—so small. And alone. They think she ate whatever caused the reaction once she was alone, and by the time she knew to call for help…”
Gwen gingerly swipes her thumb next to my eye. I hadn’t realized I was crying, but she wipes away the tears anyway.
“She died under my watch. They investigated, never found anything. Her father quit later that year. I transferred to foreign duty and never looked back. I knew them well…I didn’t want to know anyone’s family like that again. I couldn’t—fail like that again.”
I said it. The word that haunted me most days, and echoed into my nightmares. It was the first time I’ve ever said it out loud. Speaking it somehow gave me the strength to open my eyes, disregarding the fear of how Gwen would react.
What I see shocks me.
Gwen is looking at me with…reverence. Her eyes are brimming with tears that make the blue of them sparkle even in the dark. Looking at her makes me continue without another thought.
“I won’t fail you like that. I don’t want you to think that it’s a pattern—I want you to be able to trust me. I’ve never lost anyone else under—”
“Joel,” she breathes in disbelief. “I’m not thinking that. It…it makes me trust you more. Beyond that…” A few tears escape onto her cheeks. “Beyond that, I’m so sorry. You’ve been carrying that around, all this time, thinking you were at fault?”
“I am at fault.”
“It was an accident. A terrible, horrific accident that could happen to anyone.”
I shake my head. “Not necessarily. And they hired me to prevent that sort of thing. I didn’t. The least I can do is…remember it, so I don’t let anything like that happen again.”
Gwen purses her lips, looking down at our now joined hands. She doesn’t say anything for a few moments.
“When my mom died I barely slept for two weeks. I wanted to, but, that pain of… remembering every time I woke up?” Her voice is teetering between stable and strained, “It was too much to bear. I didn’t want to wake up and have those first ten seconds of peace before I remembered. It made me feel like I was going to forget her. It felt like I—” her voice breaks, and my hand squeezes her tighter, holding her to the present moment. “I felt like I failed her. If I forgot, even for a moment, I felt like I had failed.” She sniffles, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t know what it’s like to be in your position, but I know that feeling. And I also know, now, that it’s just that, a feeling. I feel like I failed her sometimes, but I didn’t. Just like you didn’t fail Sarah.”
I didn’t deserve it. Her words, her tears, the kindness she’s showing me and the gentleness of her touch. But if fate was going to offer me this beautiful woman’s grace and tenderness…Who was I to turn it away?
I sit up, thinking she’d drop her hand now, but she doesn’t. It still rests partially on my neck and partially on my cheek, now wet with tears. I grab our joined hands with my free one, looking at her thoughtful eyes.
“Thank you,” my voice is completely hoarse. “But I promise, I haven’t failed since. I don’t plan to fail you now.”
She shakes her head, her expression still pained. “You define failure so rigidly that you can’t see how much you’ve done. How successful you’ve been.”
I watch her, feeling confused as she wraps both of her arms around my neck, pulling me closer. I take a sharp inhale, my eyes closing again as she plays with the strands on my neck, coaxing me to relax.
“Successful?” I manage to ask in a whisper.
“Well…for one, I normally can’t stand to share a room with anyone. I barely sleep if there’s someone else in here with me. Now…” she hesitates, and I open my eyes again. She struggles, not to find the words, but to release them. “I find it difficult to sleep if you’re not here.”
Before I can think, I place my hands on her bare thighs, noticing her inhale as I drag her closer, so she’s sitting astride me. I draw a few circles on them before joining my hands behind her back, caging her close to me.
“And then I go and complicate things by talking in my sleep.” I say it as a joke, but she shakes her head again.
“Thank you for telling me. I’m…glad I was here.”
The crack in her voice pulls me forward without intention, and I press a light kiss to her forehead. She hums, one of her hands slipping into the back of my shirt.
“I’m glad you’re here, too.”
With that, she fully wraps her legs around me, pulling us chest to chest, and rests her head on my shoulder.
I’ve always had that protective instinct. It didn’t always matter who it was for. I just knew that I was put on the planet to protect, and to fight when necessary. But now, holding Gwen like this…there isn’t a single thing that could make me leave this spot. Not even if the world depended on it. Not if it meant giving up the sound of her heart regulating, growing more rhythmic against mine. Giving up the smell of her hair, and the feeling of her hands as they move up and start to play with the collar of my t-shirt. If it meant being with her, protecting her, I was invincible.
After a while, I run my hand up her spine, feeling my protectiveness turn to possession as she shivers a little under my touch.
“You must be tired,” I murmur.
She quickly shakes her head against my shoulder, mumbling something to indicate otherwise.
“You should go to bed.”
Almost imperceptibly, she tightens her legs around me. “I’m fine.”
I move my hands back to her thighs, and she sighs on my neck. “You’re always so stubborn.”
She rubs my neck with the tip of her nose, and embarrassingly, I shiver a little too. “Likewise.”
I find myself gripping her thighs tighter. “We should both go to bed.”
Ever so slightly, Gwen places a featherlight kiss to my neck. I groan instantly, trying to cover it up with a cough. She hears it though, because she hums proudly to herself, no doubt feeling the effect she has on me.
“It doesn’t seem like you want to go to bed,” her voice has dropped to an alluring pitch.
“What I want is to stop putting you in positions like this…”
“Hmm. What position would you like me in then?” Her finger trails down the other side of my neck.
Jesus Christ.
I let out a true groan now, my eyes drifting to the ceiling. “You know what I mean. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this.”
Now Gwen pulls back, locking her hooded eyes on mine. “When have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to do?”
“Never.” All I can do is stare at her lips.
“So…” She leans forward, pressing a kiss to my chest through my t-shirt. “What makes you think I have to do this?” Her fingers skim under the hem, and she sighs again as she trails up the bare skin of my chest. “I’m the one who promised not to touch you again without your permission. If you want me to stop…” she pulls up my shirt, dipping down to leave an open-mouthed kiss on my torso, causing all the muscles underneath to clench. “Tell me to stop.”
Instinctively, I pull her forward by her thighs, providing friction for the both of us. She gasps, and her face changes into that same frustrated and aroused expression. It’s enough of a sign for her to lift my shirt up even more, and I can’t resist helping her remove it entirely.
“Mmm,” Gwen presses her lips together, eyes glazing over as she runs her hands up and down my chest. I lean back against the couch, happy to let her explore for as long as she likes. My hands are still kneading her thighs as she kisses every square inch she can see. Her soft lips are like caffeine, speeding up my heart with every touch. My chest is rising and falling at a shallow, rapid pace, and it nearly stops when her fingers graze under the band of my pants.
She leisurely strokes her hand back and forth, teasing me. She smirks, raising her head up so that our mouths are inches apart.
“I’m guessing I’m still not allowed to kiss you,” she whispers, her breath heating the tip of my lips.
I shake my head. “I want to…but I wouldn’t be able to recover. I would need more.”
“More?” she arches a brow, her delicate hand brushing over my aching cock through my pants.
I grunt. Loudly.
It was pathetic, really, how one touch could electrocute my senses. But I’m past the point of caring.
“More of this?” she asks innocently, stroking me again. Devil, devil woman.
Through the haze, I grab her chin with my hand, forcing her to look at me. “Yes,” I hiss. “But more than just that. I would need you to be mine. Only mine.” Her eyes widen, and her breath hitches as she takes in my meaning. I take the opportunity to jut her hips forward again, causing her to whimper.
“I don’t do casual, Gwen. When you kiss me, you need to know that.” Her eyes sparkle with fondness at the mention of her name, and her cheeks flush deeply with realization.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she leans forward and presses another kiss in the center of my chest. “Well…if I can’t kiss you there,” she gently pulls on my lip with her thumb. “I guess I’ll have to make do.” She starts to kiss my lower abdomen, and my head falls back again.
I know it’s wrong. So wrong. I’m never supposed to be emotionally involved with a client, and here I am thinking the sky itself might collapse if she doesn’t touch me where I need her most. Those pretty fingers dip back into my waistband, and I suck in a breath. It feels like she’s been teasing me for hours when she slides off of my lap and onto the floor in front of the couch.
“Gwen,” my voice is a husky command, “No.”
She shimmies my pants down an inch or two. “You want me to stop?” She waits, her blue eyes full of both wanting and concern.
“This should be about you.” I answer, not knowing if her lips on me will do more damage than kissing ever could.
“It is,” she smirks, “I like seeing you squirm.”
I help her remove my pants, tossing them to the side. I nearly lose all my ability to speak when she reaches for one of the pillows and tucks it under her knees. “I’m not squirming.” I manage to huff.
Gwen glides a hand over the front of my boxers, and I—
“Fuck,” my head falls back again.
And then she giggles, and I know I’m done for. I’m as hard as rock before she even takes me out of my boxers. I notice her freeze as she does so, and I peek down at her. Her eyes have grown wide, if only for a moment. I feel a small wave of arrogance, being bigger than she must have expected.
“You don’t,” I take another deep breath, eyes on her perfectly manicured hand just an inch away from me, “You don’t have to.”
“Like I said,” she leans forward on her knees, grabbing my base tight enough that my mouth hangs open, “When have I ever done something I didn’t want to do?”
And then her tongue is on me, and my vision goes white.
It takes both of her hands to wrap around me as her tongue works vicious circles on the head, and I’m already fisting the sheet next to me, willing myself to keep it together just a little bit longer.
Then, she takes me in deeper, and I can’t downplay what I’m feeling anymore.
“Fuck, Gwen,” I groan, way louder than I should. “Oh, that feels good, sweetheart.” This makes her hum in approval around my cock, only making me throb harder. I thread my hand through her hair, careful not to push her any further than she can go.
I want to close my eyes, to focus solely on the sensation. But I can’t bear to tear away from how incredible she looks in front of me. Never, never in my wildest dreams did I think that Gwen would ever do this for me. That I would ever have the honor of seeing her like this, or that it would feel this fucking good. And I can’t stop telling her.
“God, you take me so well.”
Her eyes smile back at me when her mouth can’t. She takes me even deeper, and I grunt, my jaw clenching to hold on just a little longer. I can’t help my head lolling back against the couch again. She let’s go of me with a pop, before licking all the way from base to the tip. Then she freezes, and I’m compelled to look at her again.
“Eyes on me,” her voice is full of honey and venom, repeating my words back to me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I heave out a laugh before it turns into a borderline whimper as she keeps eye contact with me and fits nearly all of me down her perfect throat.
“So pretty,” I grasp the back of her head again, the softness of her hair filling my already overflowing senses. “That’s it…oh, baby I’m close.”
And like the devilish blessing she is, she winks at me. I’m practically panting at this point. “Please, Gwen, I’m gonna, I need to—”
She takes me out only momentarily to breathe, “Let me taste it.”
Fuck. Me.
She goes in on me with a fever, and I wouldn’t be able to hold back if I had all the will in the world. I let go with one last groan, and Gwen doesn’t stop working her mouth on me until I physically push her arm away, unable to take the sensation any longer. She grins, licking the corner of her mouth.
“You’re…” I’m still trying desperately to recover my breath. “Incredible.” I run my hands up and down her arms, trying to soothe myself more than anything.
“That oughta teach you not to tease me.” She leans forward to press another kiss to my stomach, and I shudder still under her lips.
“Teach me to do it more often, more like. C’mere.” I pull her back on top of me, curious to see just how much this has worked her up.
She obliges, climbing back on top but shaking her head. “We should sleep now.”
My face falls. “What?”
She giggles again, and I pull her tighter to me. “I was just repaying you for last night.”
I shake my head rapidly. “No way. It doesn't work like that.” I slide my hands around to her backside, squeezing and pulling her hips harder against me. She sighs, her eyes fluttering for a moment. I lean into her ear to drive my point home. “I want to see you come again.”
Gwen steadies her breathing for a second before replying. “Maybe another time,” she whispers in my ear before getting up. I’m in disbelief still, even as she keeps holding my hand, dragging me up and over to her bed with her. “For now though, you could do me and your back a favor and sleep over here.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “My back?”
“The couch can’t be good for it. Especially at your age…” She plops down on the bed, her eyes taking in the new angle of my naked body. I wonder if it’s possible to already get hard again.
“My age?”
“Mhm.”
“Is my age a problem?” I get in on the other side of the bed, crawling so that I’m hovering over her.
“Not at all,” her eyes are far too innocent, “I thought you knew I liked antiques.”
I laugh, lightly tickling her stomach through her shirt, making her laugh along with me. “Disrespectful, Miss Russell.”
“I said I liked them,” she’s still laughing, and I hope she never stops. “That’s not disrespectful.”
I simply huff as I settle in next to her, pulling the covers over her bare legs. She quickly wraps her cold leg around mine, shifting on her side to look at me. I push a strand of hair away from her face, and she closes her eyes. I’ve never considered myself a particularly lucky man. If anything, it was the opposite. But as her breathing becomes more relaxed and involuntary, and I get to lay this close to her, still twirling a strand of her hair in between my fingers…luck isn’t a strong enough word.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 23: The Aftermath
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 4.2k
Gwen
“So what did you do after that?” Nyah’s grin is blinding, even through the phone screen. She might as well be jumping up and down.
“Nothing…he got my pajamas from the closet and told me to sleep well. And he slept on the couch.”
Now she looks puzzled. “That’s it?”
I nod, feeling the air growing thin just at the recount of last night’s events.
“Wow…what a guy.” Nyah muses.
I laugh lightly. “I was going to offer, but as soon as he, you know—”
“Licked his fingers.”
I hide my face in my free hand. “Right. As soon as he did that, he just walked away. It was like just checking something off the to-do list. Like, ‘Okay, now that that’s done, it’s time for bed.’”
“Was he hard?”
“Yes. And he was clearly…restraining himself. As if it was hard for him to resist but he had a job to do. It was…”
“Hot,” Nyah fans herself.
“Mhm. And Nye…he gave me an internal orgasm. He knew exactly where to go. I’ve never had that before with anyone.”
“I know. I’ve been telling you that they’re even better.”
“You were right.” I flop on my back, sighing up at the ceiling.
“But you two didn’t even kiss? At all?”
“Not even once. He left a hickey on my breast but he said that kissing would be too much for him. There would be ‘no coming back for him,’ whatever that’s about.”
“Damn, Gwen…” Her voice softens.
“What?”
“He’s got it bad. And he’s probably stressing now thinking he’s going to lose his job or something. I’m guessing it’s typically frowned upon to hook up with the people you’re bodyguard-ing.”
A long needle of guilt sticks into my side. “I hope he didn’t feel like he had to. I’m the one who dropped the dress in front of him.”
“He’s the one who started massaging your back before that.”
“No, you’re missing the point.”
“Gwen,” Nyah hesitates, “You’re the one missing the point. He has feelings for you. This isn’t just a hookup, at least, not to him. He practically said it himself. And the way he looks at you—whatever. Blame yourself all you want, but you both took part in it and you can’t run from those feelings forever.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You think there’s feelings on my part?”
Nyah smirks. “There’s something. I know you, babe. You’re usually bored by now and relieved when they leave you alone in the morning. Are you relieved when he leaves?”
Even this morning, as soon as Joel saw I had woken up, he said that he needed to shower and left to go to his apartment down the hall. He didn’t wait for me to respond, and the draft I felt when he closed the door cut right to the bone. It was the opposite of what I usually felt. I wanted him around so often that it scared me. The idea of someone stalking me was scary, but the thought of them harming him was worse. And the idea of him leaving seemed tied to a totally foreign, unnamed fear of mine. It wasn’t tied to the stalker or Joel’s job at all, and that fear itself scared me.
Unwilling to convey that to Nyah, I settle for something more non-committal. “Not exactly.”
“Uh-huh. Just as I thought. Maybe you don’t feel what he does, but you don’t want him to leave. And that’s huge.”
I groan, rolling again so now my cheek can rest against a pillow. “You’re just pleased you’re getting what you wanted. The fact that we hooked up.”
“That is a bonus, I won’t lie.” She’s too smug for this early in the morning.
“Well, don’t get excited. He said it was a one time thing.”
“I doubt that. When are you going to tell Landon and Harper?”
“Ideally, it would have been at brunch today but he’ll obviously be there so…I don’t know. Maybe I’ll call them later.”
“Do it soon so I don’t have to hold it in!”
I laugh, “I’ll try. But you better hold it in around Joel.”
“Yeah, yeah. Go get ready so you don’t make us lose the reservation.”
In the shower, I keep trying to recreate exactly where he had held me on my waist. Everything about him had been so commanding. It boiled my blood in a way that ignited me, soothing my muscles and easing my stress. Even the heat of the water now couldn’t recreate how he burned me from the inside out.
Focus right here, baby.
I shiver despite the steam-filled room. By the time I turn the water off, I’m agitated at him for giving me so much pleasure after promising it was only this one time. When we were done last night, I wanted to return the favor three times over, but I didn’t get a chance. And now I never will? That doesn’t seem fair.
I use the agitation as fuel as I pick out a tight, long-sleeved black dress. I style my hair in its natural waves and apply plenty of lipgloss. I hope that my heeled boots will accentuate my legs, especially my thighs. And even though I know it’s too cold not to wear a coat, I refuse to put it on until Joel sees me in the ensemble. I pull the square neckline down a little further than necessary before I hear the knock on my door.
Unfortunately, I’m not the only one who had the same idea. Joel has slicked back his hair, the same way that I loved at the wedding, and he has on a crisp black shirt underneath his new leather jacket. It takes some serious restraint not to lean forward and breathe in how good that leather smells with his usual scent. The only saving grace is that Jace and Carlos are behind him for a personified reminder that I need to sober up.
“Good morning, Miss Russell,” Joel’s eyes darken, drifting down to my chest, no doubt remembering the mark he left there. Blood rushes to my cheeks, and I hope that the other men don’t notice.
Wanting to throw him off, just a little, I smile as sweetly as I can manage, making sure I don’t break eye contact. “Good morning, Joel.”
I push past him into the hallway, slow enough to clock the way his eyes widen, silently chuckling to himself.
“Jace, Carlos, I hope you both slept well.” I say over my shoulder, hoping it will provide any necessary cover for my improper greeting.
We’re all on a first-name basis now, apparently.
“Very well, Miss Russell. Thank you.” Carlos smiles at me, and Jace nods in agreement.
Well, apparently not.
I swing my hips a little more than necessary, all the way to the car.
Carlos gets in first, and I put a hand on the side of the door to slide in after him, anticipating that Jace will be right behind me. Instead, I feel a graze on my lower back.
“You look nice,” Joel’s gruff voice reverberates so close to my ear that I have to steel my shoulders to keep from shuddering.
“Likewise…I slept well.” I smirk up at him, sliding in after Carlos only for Joel to follow after me. Jace, I realize, is already in the front seat.
Joel presses his knee against mine as soon as we’re seated. I find myself daydreaming about climbing into his lap for the first few blocks before my phone rings.
“Hey, Arthur. Have you landed yet?” There’s a roaring on the other side of the line, and I have to pull the phone back from my ear.
“Guinevere. Yes, we’re getting on the chopper now. Listen…we need to meet with you as soon as possible. Could you be at your father’s within the next hour?”
I lean my head back on the seat. “Can it wait? I have a prior engagement.”
“I’m sorry…but, no. I don’t think it’s something we should discuss over the phone.”
“Okay,” I let out a long sigh. “I’ll meet you both there.”
Joel is already looking down at me with moderate concern.
“Rod, we’re going to my father’s house instead.” I pull out my phone to text my friends as Rodney turns the car around.
“I’m sorry you have to cancel,” Joel says softly, and I just shrug.
“Part of the job, I guess. But thank you.” Briefly enough to pass off as an accident, he leans down, pretending to scratch his leg, but instead he caresses the side of my thigh in reassurance.
- - -
It takes over an hour for Arthur and my father to arrive at the townhouse. Nyah texted me separately at least four times asking if she was allowed to fill in Landon and Harper since I couldn’t meet them for brunch. I’m tempted to say yes, but part of me wants to see their reactions first-hand. And another part of me wants to keep this just between Joel and me, because even we haven’t spoken a word of it since. It seems a tad ridiculous to talk to my friends about it when Joel and I can’t seem to.
To be fair, we haven’t had too many chances. Jace and Carlos wait in the dining room with both of us, and they only walk out once Arthur walks in. Joel hesitates, looking between the door and me.
“Guinevere, Mr. Miller. Good to see you.” Arthur sits across from me, waving Joel over. He doesn’t wait for a second invitation before taking the seat next to me.
My father comes in next, taking a seat next to Arthur. “You made it,” is all he says through a tight-lipped smile.
“Arthur said it was important—” I cut myself off when I see Janet, head of Russell Public Relations, walk in next.
“Janet, how are you?” I ask, standing to shake her hand. She accepts it with a smile.
“I’m well, thank you,” she says, sitting next to my father. I always liked Janet. She had every reason to dislike me for creating several PR-related fires that she no doubt had to diffuse, but whenever we saw each other, she was nothing but kind. I knew that she was a hard-ass deep down. You don’t get to be where she is without knowing when to bring down the hammer. But even still, she must bring out that side of her only when necessary.
The only issue with Janet was what her presence could mean.
Arthur clears his throat. “I’m going to cut to the chase. We had some unfortunate news on the plane ride home. The head of digital called and told us that news about the break-in to your apartment was going to be run through our channels. We were able to hold them off, but if we have it, the other outlets most likely have it as well.”
A look of shock registers on my face before I can help it.
“How did…?” I start, but I don’t even know what to say. Arthur didn’t even know about the break-in. And it wasn’t even really a break-in. The first time was, though nothing was broken and no one was home.
I shake my head, hoping it will give me some clarity. “What story are they looking to run, exactly?”
Janet answers this time. “The full details were that you had someone rooting for you to take over for your father, and their obsession had brought them into your home. They mentioned broken windows, but no specifics beyond that.”
“How did they get that information?” Joel surprises everyone by speaking.
“We’re not sure. Anonymous tip most likely.”
“Nobody knew…” I say quietly.
“When was the last personnel background check?” Joel asks, his voice low and calm.
My father snorts. “You aren’t suggesting it’s one of our guys, are you?”
“It could be. Amari only told you about the break-in.”
“So are you suggesting it’s me?”
“Of course not, sir,” Joel’s tone is just short of disrespectful, “However, when my client’s safety is put at risk, we need to exercise every possible option. Did you tell anyone else who might have told the press?”
My father stretches his arms across the table, folding his hands together. “No. I told Arthur after I received word from Janet about the story.”
Joel nods. “Alright. Then unless it was a neighbor of Miss Russell’s who just happened to know the part about her becoming CEO, it’s likely someone on the inside.”
Akin to a flock of birds catching wind of an approaching storm, the room grows quiet. Quiet and very, very still.
Who would tell the press that information? What is there to gain? As an anonymous source with no photos, there couldn’t be that much money involved.
“Have we checked my neighbors?” I ask finally, mainly to Joel.
“I’ve looked into the company who owns the building, and done some background checks on the building's occupants. I know the apartment above you is vacant, but at this point we should interview whoever lives beneath you, beyond a background check.”
“Won’t that tip them off? Encourage them to leak more information to the press?”
“It’s unlikely,” Janet replies, “Most people, especially of that status, would want their building to go back to normal.”
“Again, it doesn’t explain how they would know about the note.” Joel says.
“Right…” I had forgotten about that part. I didn’t want it to be someone on Amari’s team. Jace and Carlos were living next door to me now, for god’s sake.
“Listen, Guinevere, the story is going to break either way. I wanted you to be ahead of it, but it will break. I propose that our channels are the one’s to do so, that way we can have as much control as possible.” Arthur’s face is apologetic as he says it.
My friends didn’t even know about it, and now the whole country will.
“I’m working with my team now to release other, larger headlines at the same time. Hopefully we can minimize the reach.”
I just nod. There’s no point in arguing, even if I thought they were wrong. And they aren’t.
“We should be the one to release it,” I agree. “If there are any added details, especially about where I’m staying now, Mr. Miller and I are to be contacted immediately.”
Janet nods before whipping out her phone and typing furiously. “I’ll send you a heads up before the story breaks.”
“As for the staff?” Joel asks, eyeing my father.
He squints his eyes back at Joel for a minute, muling it over. “Fine. We can do a sweep of their personal devices. See if any of them reached out to the press.”
Joel gives him one, tight nod. I guess that is sufficient enough.
I’ve known Amari for over a decade. His loyalty, and his paycheck, have only grown over the years. I highly doubt that he would ever risk anyone’s safety, let alone someone he was working for. His team, on the other hand, I didn’t know as well. But I knew Amari trusted them, and that was always good enough for me. Maybe there’s a chance that a neighbor overheard someone, or just took a shot in the dark when speaking to the press. It may be unlikely, but it beats believing that someone would betray our trust.
On our way out, I’m surprised when my father pulls me back by my elbow.
“You’re settled in the new place?” He asks quietly.
“Yes.”
He nods several times, looking anywhere but my face. “You know you are always welcome here.” The words are so forcibly expelled from him that they come out close to a cough. My chest feels tight, and before I know what I’m doing, I reach out, and lightly squeeze his hand.
“I know, Dad. The new place…it’s very secure. And I could use the space.” I hope that he knows what I mean. That everything here reminds me of…before, and it’s too painful to be around in the aftermath.
He just nods again, lightly patting our clasped hands before breaking it off, and stalking down the hallway towards his office.
Once we’re back in the car, Joel murmurs beside me. “What was that?”
I know what he is referring to, and I shrug. “That was an emotion, or as close to one I’ll get from William Russell.”
He gives me a small, sympathetic smile before Rodney asks where I want to go. I think for a moment. Not knowing exactly how long I have before the news breaks, and I might possibly be shut in for a while, I perk up a little before giving my answer.
“Chelsea Market.”
- - -
Joel seemed to know how sacred antiquing was for me, because for the majority of the day, he didn’t say a word. He kept close, of course. I never needed to turn around and look for him as I could usually feel him hovering right behind me. I knew that somewhere Carlos and Jace were behind me as well, but they also seemed to know that I needed some space. I had eaten and window-shopped the different booths for a couple of hours when I spot a beautiful, porcelain plate. The rim is a light blue, and there are hand-painted flowers all over the center that match the blue on the rim.
I pick it up before turning to find Joel exactly where I expect him to be, a few inches behind me. His face is serious, focused, and a tad bit wary.
“What do you think of this?” I ask, my heart melting as his eyes brighten up.
“Very pretty,” His low tone is just as careful as his face.
“Are you a fan of lilacs?”
Humor licks the corner of his mouth. “I am. But those are bluebonnets, ma’am.”
I glance back down at the plate. “What? How can you tell?”
“The clusters,” he points at one of the flowers, “There are less clusters of petals on bluebonnets. But besides that, it’s the color, mainly. Lilacs are more light purple, and bluebonnets are a deep blue…” he pauses, watching me carefully. “More like your eyes.”
“Oh,” I breathe. It’s a dumb response, honestly. But even after the intimacy of last night, him glancing at me like that feels more vulnerable in this crowded space. Along with the realization that he’s noticed something like that.
Look into my eyes as I get you off.
I hope to god the flashback isn’t visible on my face. Of course he’s noticed my eyes, he was staring at them long enough last night alone. It’s just that stupid way of saying things that he always has, like it’s a command and a secret and question all in one. Even when he’s saying something so simple. It’s incredibly irritating and infatuating.
I purchase the plate.
The day is over quickly, and before I know it we’re back in that new hallway of ours and I bid all of them a goodnight. Joel gives me a funny look, perhaps surprised that I didn’t invite him in. I plan on it, but I feel like we keep dismissing the other bodyguards while the two of us hang in the hallway, they might start to talk. And now that we have no way to truly trust anyone who is working for my family, I doubt that is the best idea.
I take another quick shower before changing into long-sleeved pajamas, hoping that will at least deter myself from wanting more skin to skin contact with Joel. The matching bottoms may be short, but at least my arms and chest are covered. After a solid hour has passed, I text him. Less than two minutes later, he’s at my door.
His hair is wet, and I discover that has to be one of the times he looks his absolute best. His cheeks are a little pink from the heat of his shower as well, and his t-shirt clings to him perfectly as his skin must be a little damp. I look down at my nails, needing to keep my libido in check.
After he closes the door, he inclines his head toward the couch with a smirk. “Is that for me?” His eyes are panning over the sheet I tucked into the cushions, and the two pillows I added for him.
I shrug. “If you’d like. I figured I might want to try an alternative nap spot sometime.”
“Right.” He’s not the least bit convinced, but he still happily takes a seat and kicks off his boots.
I feel awkward, as if this is the first time we’ve had a sleepover. I shuffle over to my bed by the window, and sit on the edge of it. Thinking quickly, I grab my lotion for something to do. I start applying it to my legs, sticking out from their shorts, but when I catch Joel glancing up before looking away, I settle for just lotioning my hands.
“You’re handling all of this pretty well.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I’m not, actually. I’ve just settled for avoidance today. Make no mistake, I’m still wondering if those two down the hall had something to do with the leak.”
Joel nods, still watching my hands.
“I already reached out to Angus, my boss. He’s running a separate background check on each of the guys. I asked him to prepare one on me, as well. Though I still know that Amari will most likely provide the same. That way you can have information from all sides.”
I stop, my hands clasped together mid-air. “I don’t need one on you,” I say without thinking. It wasn’t to placate or reassure him. The thought of Joel being the mole never even crossed my mind.
“You should have it,” he counters, completely serious. “The report will have our previous assignments, past reviews and reports, search history, everything.”
“Search history? That is a little enticing.” I tease, but Joel doesn’t even crack a smile.
“Angus is also the one who called me yesterday. We did research on the owner of the building and it came back clean.” His voice is now clipped.
“Joel,” I say gently, “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. It has to be one of the people that has been trusted with protecting you, and that—” he cuts himself off, running a hand down the side of his face.
“And that’s frustrating.” I finish for him.
He looks at me carefully, his features solemn and nearly defeated. “It’s maddening. It puts you in danger. If it’s not one of your neighbors, which I doubt, then it’s one of them. And I—” Again, he looks away. I put my hands on my knees, preparing to stand and go to him before I think better of it. It would probably only complicate the feelings he’s obviously trying to sort out.
“Joel,” my voice is barely audible, but he still meets my gaze again. “We can’t fix it right now, and it’s been a long…well, a long couple of months, really. We could both use some sleep.”
He studies me for a minute before nodding. After a curt goodnight, he turns off the light on his side of the studio and lays down with his back to me. I listen to his breathing until it becomes more of a perfect rhythm, and I know he’s asleep. That’s been the most calming thing to me when we share a room, and I’ve thought too often about how much more calming it would be to hear that breathing with my head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For now, I just lay here, staring at his back.
Several hours pass, and I still don’t have an answer to any of my questions. I have a feeling deep in my chest that it isn’t one of the security members. Maybe it’s just because I like Amari so much, but I don’t think that’s all it is. They’re probably paid triple what information like that would be worth to a tabloid. And they’ve had dirt on me over the years that would have done much better for sales. I mean, the dating history alone…
I’ve lived in that apartment for almost six years. I’ve had a few stalkers during that time but nothing more than someone showing up repeatedly at dinners or events. Never at the house. And they were always easy enough to scare away with legal threats. One of them was so spooked to even talk to me that he gave up. Now, this one came on so fast that they were inside my apartment within a few weeks? After we added extra security, changed the locks, and took my friends’ keys away? I didn’t want to piss off or stress out Joel anymore than he already was, but he was right. It didn’t make any sense.
I wanted my haven back. My sanctuary. That was my safe place. The first place that was really truly mine. But now, thinking of moving back in, being separated into different bedrooms again…it didn’t feel the same. It didn’t feel safe, it felt—
And then Joel starts shouting, and my thoughts are forgotten.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 5.5k
Chapter 22: Out of Focus
Joel
Last week I thought my favorite color was blue. At the wedding, I thought my favorite color was black. Tonight, I’m certain my favorite color is maroon.
Especially when her cheeks matched her dress when I touched her. It had felt wrong not to do so in the moment, despite the fact that realistically, I should only touch Gwen if I’m coaching or protecting her. It wasn’t even a conscious choice…and a hand on the back could still be professional. I think.
Regardless of the implications, I felt like she needed it. Even now, the way she’s dragging her feet through the hallway towards her door. I want to take her face between my hands and tell her just to talk to me, to tell me that she’s scared. That she doesn't want to be alone. But just like when we stayed in her father’s house, I know she won’t.
She pauses at her door, glancing behind me at Jace and Carlos. I instructed them not to go into their room until Gwen was safely tucked away in hers, but her hand hesitates on the handle.
“We’re all set, guys.” I say to them, keeping my eyes on her. “Have a good night.”
As they shuffle away, Gwen gives me probably the shyest smile a woman like her can produce.
“I just wanted to say thank you, for the Daniel thing. I was not in the mood for that tonight.”
“I don’t blame you.” I expect her to open the door now, but she still waits until Jace and Carlos’ door clicks into place.
“I don’t know if this is—standard, or whatever, but do you think you could come inside? Just for a minute. Double check the place or something?”
I try not to be obvious in my relief that she finally asked. “Absolutely.”
Once inside, Gwen kicks off her shoes and makes her way over the modest kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? A whiskey you won’t drink?”
I close the door behind us, arming the security system after. “Water, please.”
Unsure of what to do, I look in the closet and check out the bathroom, knowing I won’t find anything of importance. If it will make her feel better though, I’d do it all night.
Gwen sets the glass on the table, taking a seat. I follow suit, taking a long swig. “Thank you.”
“You really put me out, pouring you a glass of tap water.”
I smirk. “My apologies, ma’am.”
Her cheeks deepen again, and I have to start repeating this is a job this is a job this is a job.
“Have you always been sober?” She asks, her eyes curious.
“I’m not sober. I love whiskey, actually. But I don’t drink while I’m on the job.”
“Are you…on the job even now?”
Saying that as if she didn’t just ask me to secure the apartment. “Twenty-four-seven, in fact.”
“That would be exhausting.”
“You get used to it. And it’s worthwhile work.”
“Not if it gives you nightmares,” she mumbles before her eyes grow wide, like she’s surprised it came out of her mouth. “I’m sorry.”
It’s not often I’m embarrassed, less often that I admit it. But even last time we discussed it, neither of us flat out said what it was. The bluntness of it now feels heavy, and almost shameful.
“It’s okay. I’m sorry,” I have to clear the unease out of my throat, “Sorry that you had to hear that.”
Gwen doesn’t look embarrassed. She looks equal parts soft and determined, refusing to look away. “That’s not something you have to apologize for.”
I hold her gaze for another minute before replying.
“I didn’t think you would have heard anything. When you did, I thought you would give me more shit for it.”
She smiles softly. “Not for something like that.”
“I appreciate that you didn’t,” my voice grows more hoarse, “I am surprised that you didn’t ask about it though.”
“I was curious, don’t get me wrong. But it didn’t seem like the time. Especially since maybe you don’t trust me yet.”
Now I’m confused, giving her a quizzical smile.
“The other night, when you told me I didn’t have to trust you yet. Maybe you should ask me something. Preferably something you can’t find in a file from whatever creepy computer people you have working for you back in Texas.”
“My agency is based in Boston, actually.”
“Same thing, still creepy. Ask away.”
I eye her, one of her eyebrows raised, elbows bent on the table, leaning forward like a cat watching its prey. Wanting to play a game.
“Alright,” I rest one of my arms on the back of the chair next to me. “Why do you hate slow dancing?”
“What?” She laughs, “I never said that.”
“Yeah, you did. Gave me a decently long explanation for it when we were at the wedding.”
Her face pales a little. “Right…”
I watch her take a few breaths, trying not to get lost on how perfectly that dress suits her. “Still waiting.”
Gwen lets out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I just never understood it. I think it’s boring. I love to dance when it's fast paced but it’s just so drawn out, and you have to face the person the entire time and keep your hands in the right place. It’s too…I don’t know it’s too…”
“Intimate?” My question is hushed, because I know a word like that is far too fragile to be passed between us.
“Yes,” she catches my eye before looking down at her hands, twirling a ring on her finger, “And a lot of the time, you have to do it with people who you don’t even like, to make it worse. And they’re playing music you would normally never listen to.”
I let the air thicken amongst us before I reply. “I love slow dancing.”
Her eyes snap up to meet mine. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. Always have. Granted, I was never invited to multiple galas a year that I was mandated to attend.”
“Yeah right,” she huffs, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Call it competitive, avoidant of reality, or just plain stupid, but I push back my chair, and offer her my hand. “Alright then.”
The look of shock and intrigue on her face gives me way more pleasure than it should. In a rare moment for Gwen, she doesn't say anything as she grabs my hand and lets me walk her a few steps into the kitchen area. I take out my phone, thinking only for a moment before I press play and set it on the counter.
The quiet sound of a western waltz drifts into the room, and I guide the hand of hers to rest on my shoulder. “I’m assuming you’re familiar with this part.”
“Unfortunately so,” she tries to sound aloof, but I’m not fooled. She’s a little too breathless to be as irritated as she’d like to seem.
I take her other palm in mine before placing my free hand on her lower back, pushing us close together. It’s not a simple task to keep our eyes on each other with the height difference, but Gwen keeps looking up at me anyway, and I keep on looking down at her.
I move us slowly, devoid of complicated or elegant steps. All I’m focused on is how good it feels to hold her so tightly, for her eyes to be looking at me with something just short of affection. When it seems like she isn’t completely hating this, I pull her out and away, forcing her to spin so that her back is now against me. She giggles, that same one that always plots to bring me to my knees. And when she leans her head back to rest on my chest, craning to look at me again, I know I’m in trouble.
“No one ever pulled a move like that at a gala.”
My chest fills with pride. “You said you didn’t like that you have to face the person the whole time.”
“I said that about the people I don’t like…” she whispers, her big blue eyes succeed in pulling me under. I accept the fact that I’m most likely going to hell as I lean down to whisper in her ear.
“I figured I was included in that.” I feel a shiver run down her spine as she closes her eyes. My arms wrap around her tighter, just to confirm that despite total disbelief, this woman was enjoying herself. With me.
“Not all the time,” she breathes.
“Not right now?” I ask against the shell of her ear.
“No…Not right now.” I let her lean back into me until I’m essentially supporting all of her body weight. When I’m afraid her proximity to me might become…obviously arousing to us both, I spin her again, gently, until we’re face to face. Except now, Gwen rests her head against my chest.
“You smell so nice,” she murmurs, her eyes still closed. It was the sort of thing I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to be hearing. Without a thought, I drift my hand up from the small of her back, to the back of her neck, stroking it up to her earlobe. This earns me another shiver, and also requires me to shift my hips away from her.
“Nice enough to change your mind?”
Feeling her laugh reverberate off my chest had to be the only thing better than hearing it. “I’m not known to change my mind.”
“Not yet.”
“It could just be better barefoot.”
I now trail my hand down her neck, caressing as much exposed skin as I can. “It could be a better partner.”
She sighs with the feel of my touch. “Could—could be.”
The song ends, and though our swaying slows down, it doesn’t stop. I see Gwen’s eyes open, and she peeks up at me cautiously.
“I hope this doesn't count…you know, as me touching you again without your permission.”
Only in this moment, for a split second, have I ever regretted my career choice. I don’t want her to feel like she has to tip-toe around me, and even though we both know it’s not professional, I can’t find it in me to care when she’s looking up at me like that.
“No,” my voice is all gravel, “It’s just dancing.”
She nods, either unconvinced, or possibly tired. Maybe even…relaxed? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Gwen relaxed.
Both our arms are wrapped around each other now, and I’m tracing circles on her back.
“So, what’s the verdict?” I ask after some time.
“Hmm?” Her eyes are closed again, her cheek pressed firmly against me.
“Do you still think slow dancing is borin—”
“Can you stay here tonight, please?” she asks so quietly that I have to look down to confirm that she is actually looking back up at me, waiting for a response. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…But, I worry about—”
“Yes. Whatever you need.”
Her smile banishes all the worry from her face, and I squeeze her tighter.
I have a feeling we would have stayed here all night if my phone didn’t ring. It startles us both, and it takes everything in me not to keep one hand wrapped around her waist as I grab it off the counter.
Angus.
I pause. Once I’m on a job, there usually isn’t too much contact. But recently, I had sent in the information about Gwen’s building to see if there was anything Angus and his team could find. There had to be a reason her stalker was able to gain access to the basement and cut the system’s hardwiring. And the power, for that matter. There was nothing I wanted more than to catch the asshole that was causing her so much unrest. Almost nothing. Right now, I would rather keep holding her. Trying to inch back a shred of professionalism into the evening, I pick up.
“Hey, Angus.”
“Joel. I have the report you were looking for. Is now a good time?”
It wasn’t. Not really. And I don’t exactly want Gwen to overhear anything firsthand. I would rather choose how to deliver it to her, but none of those reasons would have been acceptable with any of my other clients.
“Sure, now’s fine.”
Luckily, when Gwen hears this, she mouths, “I’m going to go change,” and scurries off toward the bathroom.
“So, the building is owned by a completely legitimate LLC. They own several other buildings all throughout New York, and purchased this one about six years ago. No past indiscretions besides a fire a couple of decades ago at another location. No foul play was suspected.”
“An LLC? Why not make it a REIT?”
“Probably so they don’t have to pay federal income tax. They’re cheaper to start.”
“What’s the name of the company?”
“Laurier.”
“Alright,” I run a hand down my face, “Thanks, Angus.”
“I had hoped we’d find more information but…”
“I know, me too. Still appreciated.”
He hangs up without another word. I start pacing toward the bed and back to the dining table. Secretly, I had hoped that the building was recently purchased by someone who had been found to stalk Gwen’s account. I knew that would be too easy, but I still hoped I could end it for her, and fast. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I sit on the edge of the bed with my face in my hands. I only glance up when I hear the bathroom door crack open.
Gwen’s face is pink, and her hair has come down, looking the slightest bit disheveled.
“I promise that this isn’t a come-on, but I am legitimately stuck in my dress.”
After this last conversation with Angus, I simply stare at her to the point where she feels the need to elaborate.
“I can go get Jace or Carlos if you’re not comfortable unzipping it.”
Well, fuck that idea.
I jump up a little too quickly. “Not a problem.”
“Thank you,” she turns around, holding the front part of her dress up with her hands.
Now that her hair is down, I have to place my fingers on the side of her neck, pulling her soft waves back a bit. “May I?” I ask.
“Mhmm,” she murmurs, tipping her head to the side to assist me. I brush her hair over her shoulder, lingering slightly to soak in the last few moments where it’s appropriate for me to be this close to her.
I unzip the dress slowly, since it goes far past the bottom of her spine. I don’t want to undo it all the way. Suddenly, she shudders a little, letting out a soft laugh.
“Sorry,” she sounds…heady. “Your breath just tickled a bit.” She clears her throat, attempting to take a step forward. I know with her little disclaimer, she’s doing so for my benefit. So for both of ours, I pull her back to me by the hold I have on her dress.
“I’m not done,” I say in a low, careful voice. This elicits another shudder from her as I finish undoing the garment. And against everything I’ve ever done, everything I’ve ever tried to uphold, I let my finger trace up her bare back, all the way up until the clasp of her black lace bra.
Even at that subtle motion, Gwen leans back to me, letting out a soft sigh.
“Would you like me to undo this as well, ma’am?” I say in the most casual tone I can muster, purposefully laying on the accent a little thicker than normal.
Gwen nods, clutching tighter to the front of the dress.
I click my tongue. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” Gwen hisses, a mix of irritation and arousal.
There’s my girl.
I chuckle darkly, unclasping the bra, and gently massaging the area of her back where it had been resting. Maybe this fell under the category of unprofessional touches, but the entire city going up in flames couldn’t keep me from doing something that clearly made her feel so good. Her eyes were pinched shut, and with every stroke of my hand, she leaned further into me.
Then, so softly, as if it were a thought escaped, or an unexplained draft in the air, I hear her breathe out, “Joel.”
I freeze.
Lately, our boundaries were made of chalk. Dark clouds kept rolling in, threatening to pour out the rain and wash away the last of our efforts. Now, with that singular word, she might as well have summoned a monsoon.
She’s gone rigid as well, her breathing ragged with the realization of what she said.
“I—I’m sorry—”
“Say it again.” I damn near growl, wrapping my hand around her waist, turning her to face me.
Her eyelids are heavy, and it takes her more than a few moments to look up at me and whisper.
“Joel.”
My eyes drop down to her lips, extra pretty when they’re parted like that. I keep staring at them as I walk us backwards until Gwen’s back hits the wall next to the bathroom door. I place my arms above her head, caging her in. A strong wave of possession runs through me as her hold on her dress loosens. I’m angry at a line of men I will never meet. Because somewhere, there are other pairs of eyes that have seen her like this. Did they truly savor it? Did they know what a treasure it was to watch her, or did they simply snatch any piece of her they could and run? I want to keep her here, and safe, forever.
Gwen’s gaze grows more exasperated. “Well? Are you just going to stare at me?”
I bend down to place my lips against her ear. “I might.”
She whines. A sound I quickly realize does far greater damage to me than her laughter.
“What would you prefer I do?”
“You always want to speak in these fucking riddles.” She glares up at me, and I can’t help smiling at her. “You know what I want.”
“”Fraid not.”
Unexpectedly, Gwen’s back arches off the wall until we’re mere inches apart. She lightly cocks a brow, smirking. “I want you to touch me, Joel.”
Holy mother of god.
Something strikes a chord in me, and I pull back just a bit. “You know we can’t. It’s…exploitative. I’m here to protect you.”
“Oh, please. I can make my own decisions, and you’re still protecting me.”
“It could be transference.” God, her hair smells incredible.
“Seriously? I couldn’t stand it when you moved in.”
“Okay then, Stockholm syndrome.”
She scoffs. “I’m free to go wherever I want. You’re the one forced to follow me.” She lets one of her hands drop from the front of her dress, grabbing my belt loop and pulling me in. It’s a miracle I’m still breathing. “Call it whatever you want, but you’re here as my bodyguard. So…” her eyes gauge mine one last time, looking for any signs of apprehension. “Guard it.”
With that, she drops the front of her dress, letting both it and her bra pool around her ankles. I spoke too soon, and my breath hitches in my throat, my mouth falling agape as I take in every exquisite inch of her.
“Fucking hell,” I groan, not even meaning to have said it. Not even my favorite of her dresses could have done this picture justice. Her breathing is coming in heavy, and my eyes go glassy as I take in the sight of her hardening pink nipples. I lean even closer to her, my arms still braced on the wall, desperate to feel the warmth of her bare chest against mine. I’m past the point of caring that she can see, or possibly feel, my nearly painful erection. The only sound in the room is our breath as our lips get closer and closer to each other.
“Do you…” I take a moment to run my nose up her neck, across her jawline, “Have any idea what you’re doing to me?”
This brings on another, softer whine.
“I wasn’t sure you even liked women,” she teases.
I chuckle against her cheek, making both of us shiver. “You thought about it?”
Even though she’s almost entirely naked in front of me, Gwen shrugs. “Maybe in passing.”
“Hmm. I see,” I lift one of my arms off the wall, trailing a finger across her collarbone. “So you never wondered how this might feel?” I drag my finger down her chest, past the shallow in between her breasts, tracing a few circles on her stomach before drawing a line right above the last bit of lace that covers her.
She’s panting now, from just one finger. My mind goes wild with the noises I might be able to hear if I give her more.
“Maybe,” she murmurs, her eyes trained on my lips, “Maybe once or twice.” My cock twitches at the idea that she ever thought about my hands on her skin. Our foreheads are resting against each other now, our lips dangerously close. She pulls me closer by my belt loop again, and moans when my erection bumps against her.
“Why won’t you kiss me?” She whispers.
I place my hand on the side of her face, demanding she look me in the eye before I respond. “If I kiss you…there’s no coming back for me. I don’t want to be your distraction. I don’t want to take advantage of our situation. I want you to want this.”
She blinks, processing the magnitude of my words. It was the closest to a confession I had ever had with her, and all of it was true. If I kiss her the way I want, touch her the way I want…I wouldn’t be able to think of anything else. I could become too distracted, too enmeshed.
But maybe…I could give her just a piece. A few moments of pleasure to counteract the anxiety of these past few weeks.
“If you would touch me,” her voice is sultry and low, “then you would know how badly I want this.”
Professionalism was now a word unbeknownst to me.
I lean back from the wall, and Gwen pouts, until she sees me rolling up the sleeves of my white button down. I take my time, reveling in the way she squirms, her back still against the wall.
My voice is raspy as I hold the side of her face, making sure she listens to every word. “We’re going to do this once. I want you to know that this is different for me. I don’t do this with the people I’m protecting.” Gwen takes a sharp breath, and there is some possible relief on her face. “But you’ve been so good lately…I feel like that should be rewarded.”
“Oh, thank god.” Gwen whines, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me in. I resist, grabbing her hands and pinning them above her head.
“I’m afraid you’re going to listen to me now, Miss Russell. For once.”
Gwen’s eyes flare, agitated and excited and needy.
I wrap my right hand around both of her wrists, keeping them high above her. Her back arches again off the wall, begging for contact. I take my time trailing my free hand down her stomach again before going back up and cupping her breasts. Gwen sighs, tossing her head back slightly, her eyes pinched shut. I lick my thumb and forefinger before pinching her hard nipple between them, rolling it around and squeezing until she’s panting once again. It would be a wasted effort to try and fight the possession that fills me now. Hovering over her, knowing she’s safe, knowing that I’m the one making her bite down on her lip and press her thighs together…I never want anyone else to see her this way. And I want to make sure she remembers who she’s with. That she doesn’t run from the connection the way she always has.
“Open your eyes.” I demand in a harsh whisper.
“Mmm,” Gwen moans lightly, denying my request. I smack her breast lightly before putting my mouth where my finger had been, sucking ruthlessly.
“Oh my god, yes.” She cries, pushing back against my hand holding her to the wall.
As quickly as I had started, I pull back completely, cutting all contact except for where my hand binds her.
“What…?” she breathes, finally straightening her head and opening her eyes to me.
“Open your eyes,” I repeat. “You break contact,” I grab her breast again, her mouth falling open, “I break contact,” I pull away my hand, making her eyebrows knit together in frustration. She narrows her eyes at me, but still her breathing only quickens.
With my forehead practically resting against hers, I bring my hand between her thighs and cup her fully over the lace.
“Ah,” she cries again, throwing her head back.
I smirk. “Eyes on me.”
It takes her a moment, but I get a sick satisfaction over how she finally obeys. She glares at me, but I have her slack-jawed the next moment when I start to lightly move my hand in circles. Even with her lips parted, she still manages to look angry.
“You can be pissed all you want, darlin’. Your legs are still shaking.”
This makes her whine, because she knows I’m right. She’s alternating between coming up on her tiptoes and letting her feet rest back on the ground, trying to increase the friction. Every time she does it, her knees give her away.
“Why don’t you do something about it, then?” Definitely pissed. And breathless.
“Ask nicely.” I murmur against her ear.
I circle the fabric a little harder, and after several huffs, she gives in.
“Please. Dammit, please Joel.”
I chuckle, moving closer to her so that her bare chest is pressed to my shirt. I want to take it off, to feel her on top of me, underneath me, shaking against me as I take her from the back, gripping the wall for support. But not tonight. Tonight was only about this beautiful, stubborn woman.
I dip my hand into the fabric, and we both gasp at the contact.
“So wet,” I rasp out, forgetting where I am for a moment. “Perfect…”
“It’s your fault,” Gwen whimpers, trying her best to grind down on my hand. This snaps me back into the present moment, remembering I’m here to please her, not simply to admire the fact that she’s this ready for me. I apply more pressure, continuing the same circles, only now, it’s directly on her clit.
Gwen strains against my hand again, her eyes fluttering closed.
I stop.
Gwen almost wails. “Please…don’t stop.”
“Look at me.”
This time, she listens right away. Her gaze might be hooded, but it’s focused on me. I resume my gentle strokes, my cock growing more and more painful every time Gwen makes one of her sweet little noises.
“More,” she whispers, her cheeks growing desperately flushed as she says it. “I need more.”
“Yeah? What do you say?”
She scowls at me, but her voice is earnest “Please.”
“Atta girl,” my mouth turns up at the corner as I slide a finger inside her, curling it as she curses through her teeth, bouncing up on her tiptoes again. And god, is she tight. Clenching around it almost immediately, greedy little thing.
I pump my finger in and out of her a few times before adding another, making Gwen struggle to keep eye contact. I can tell she wants to avoid the intimacy of it, but I can also tell she’s enjoying it. She’s become so wet in the past minute alone that her arousal is dripping down to her thighs. And god, what I wouldn’t give to lick it off.
I press the heel of my hand against her, starting the circles again when I know she wants to be filled. She whines, confirming my suspicion.
“This is for all the times you forced me to look away,” I grunt out, watching her eyes grow wide at my words, hearing how impossibly wet they make her. “Every time you wore one of those skimpy little outfits, or danced with a man who didn’t deserve you, or started to change in front of me. Anything that you knew would force me to take my eyes off of you.”
She whimpers something incoherent, her eyes fluttering but still straining enough to hold my gaze.
“Now you’re going to look at me. Focus right here, baby. Look into my eyes as I get you off.” That’s when I give her what she wants again, sliding two fingers inside, curling until she’s shaking so hard I have to let go of her wrists. Immediately, she wraps them around my neck to steady herself. Her eyes don’t leave mine, even as her mouth hangs open, her eyebrows are drawn down, and she’s moaning again and again, so loud that the thought of Jace or Carlos hearing her crosses my mind, but I banish it quickly. It’s too sweet a sound for anything to spoil it.
“Jo–el,” Gwen cries as I pump my fingers in and out of her. She’s close, getting closer every time she clenches around me.
Her whole body is quivering, and I wrap my now free hand around her waist to keep her steady. The contact of my hand grasping her bare hip makes her chuck her head back. And as much as that fuels my ego, and as fucking amazing and soft her skin feels, I still cease my fingers.
“You’re fucking kidding,” she gasps, looking back up as she grabs the hair on the back of my neck, forcing me to look at her. “I’m watching, you bastard,” she surprises me by lifting up her left leg and hooking it around my waist. She starts to grind down on her own, soft whimpers escaping her lips. Her eyes are frustrated and enamored, boring into my soul. “I’m not looking away,” she manages before adding what could only be described as a prayer. “Please.”
That did me in. I’m not sure if it’s taking pity on her, or on myself. I need to make her come. I want to give her that release, what she deserves.
I start again at a merciless pace. Each time making sure to hit that spot of hers that makes her mewl. Her arms clutch tighter to me, and I groan when she pulls on my hair again. I press my forehead against hers, soaking in as many of her moans and heady breaths as I can. I can’t remember the last time anything felt this intimate, if it ever had. But I do not break eye contact with her, nor she with me. Her eyes are wild, looking at me, present, and still somewhere else. Somewhere in ecstasy, somewhere in the clouds.
With her leg pulling me in even closer, she grinds back in tune with my rhythm.
“Yes, yes, god, y-yes.” She’s not even saying it to me, but it’s music to my ears.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me.” I pull her even closer to me so that her chest is flush with mine, and I can feel my hand working her against my thigh. “Show me how pretty you look when you come.”
Gwen rasps several harsh breaths before I feel her body convulse around me. She moans my name as she comes, looking at me with wonder, and I’m impressed that I don’t finish myself just at the sound. The look she’s giving me would be enough to bring me to my knees if I weren’t so focused on keeping her upright.
I continue to work her, softer now, as she slowly comes down from her high. She shudders on my hand, harder when I tell her how well she’s doing. Eventually, I pull my fingers out of her and rub a few soothing circles around her clit once more.
“Mmmm,” Gwen sighs, biting down on her lip, her eyes squinting. After another minute, I grip her hip a little tighter, pulling my hand out of her now-soaked panties. Gwen’s satiated smile twists into one of astonishment as she watches me bring my fingers to my mouth and suck every last bit of her off of them.
It was a bad idea, all of it.
I should have thought for one second longer before indulging myself with the taste of her.
I said that we would do this once, just so I could give her a little bit of the relief that she deserves to feel. But now, knowing just how smart-mouthed she was even as she was turned on, knowing how her lip shook when she moaned, how soft her skin was, and just how fucking sweet she tastes…
I want more. Need more.
I know now that Gwen is a vice, and I have no hope for repentance.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
ao3 | wattpad
word count: 4.5k
Chapter 21: Protocol
Gwen
I’m late. For the first time in months, I’m sprinting my way over to the curb to hop into Rodney’s car. In hindsight, I hope that Ada didn’t see that from where I left her in the café.
“That seemed to go well.” Joel muses as he settles in the front seat.
“It did,” I can’t help but beam, “I negotiated and signed the contract in under two cups of tea. Record timing.”
“Congratulations,” Joel’s voice is low, and I know he’s hiding a smile.
It was the first good thing that had happened all week. The first thing that made me feel like I was doing something outside of Russell Corp. Something that was all mine. A contract with Brissel, all from attending that Halloween party. Well that, and thanks to Harper, whom I’m currently late to meet for drinks. At least now it will be celebratory.
The bar she texted me was in SoHo, and though I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, I was glad to have the excuse to leave both my apartment and my father’s several neighborhoods behind. For all I know, maybe the stalker has unlimited resources. But even if that’s the case, it can’t be easy to chase a car in New York all the way down to the lower edge of Manhattan.
Joel walks extra closely to me once we arrive, as the bar is flooded with people. Even from the corner of my eye, I can see how tightly his jaw is clenched. I feel a sudden wave of guilt, knowing how many people he’ll have to keep an eye out for. But as my favorite redhead comes into view, I try to push that from my mind.
Harper gives me a hug before revealing both Landon and Nyah behind her.
“Surprise! I obviously knew you’d get the contract, so I figure we might as well celebrate together.”
“You could not have known, Harper,” I roll my eyes affectionately.
“No, we knew.”
“Miss M.I.A.!” Landon kisses my cheek. “Where have you been?”
“We’ve barely heard from you since the Halloween party,” Nyah joins in, hugging me a bit tighter than normal.
“Just busy, like you guys. Nothing to write home about, though.” I feel the gravity of guilt again, lying to them. Landon squints at me a little, but they let it slide while we take a seat.
They all say hi to Joel, who takes a seat on one of the stools right behind me, his back turned to me so he could face the door. The place really is packed, but it feels intimate in this corner by the window, more like a pub, especially with our little table.
I change the subject quickly to their work lives, Elijah, Harper’s latest conquests, and any updates from Nyah’s touch-and-go love life. We are almost three drinks deep each when I slip up, complaining that my father will come home in a couple of days, so I’ll need to get a move on.
“What do you mean?” Harper asks.
“Hm?” I take another sip of my mule, hoping we can breeze over it.
“Has he been hounding you at work, or something?”
“No, I hardly ever see him. You know how it is.” Something about this group of people completely erases any of my talents of deception. They just stare back at me, waiting for me to elaborate.
“I’ve just been staying at my father’s place for the past week. I want to be out before he comes back,” I shrug.
“Why would you be staying there?” Nyah asks.
I look at all three of them individually, wracking my brain for a valid excuse. “My apartment is being fumigated. There’s a bunch of rats randomly and some crazy mold thing. They say it could take a few weeks.”
Joel clears his throat behind me.
“Maybe a few months for all I know.”
“Really? God, that’s awful,” Harper gasps.
“I’m sorry, Gwen. You’re always welcome to stay with me!” Nyah adds. I thought about it the days that followed the brick indecent. I even expressed to Joel that I would feel more comfortable. I could tell that he struggled to tell me that it was putting my friends in more danger, as whoever was following me most likely knew them, and where they lived. Statistically, it was unlikely a stalker would go near them if I wasn’t there. Nyah’s apartment sounds like a haven to me, but not enough to be selfish about it.
“Thanks, Nye,” I reach across and squeeze her hand, “But I come with some extra cargo now. And we’ve found a place for me to rent in the meantime.” I notice Joel twist his head toward me a bit at the comment, but at least this part wasn’t a lie. We did find a place, and we were able to rent it under a pseudonym. Plus, it was on the Upper East Side and had multiple units on the same floor available for both Joel, Carlos, and Jace. The latter of the two were setting up the security system today.
“Oh, well, that’s good at least. If you get sick of it, maybe you could join me in Paris.” Nyah wiggles her eyebrows.
“Paris? Since when?”
“Since Andre Bacri hired me as the exclusive photographer for his editorial shoot.”
“Nyah! That’s incredible! Why have we been celebrating me tonight?” I turn to the other two, “You both knew?”
“She couldn’t wait. Spilled the beans as soon as she walked in.” Landon smiles.
“Are you guys going?”
“Naturally, I have two events the week she’s going, so I’m out. Though I did consider quitting my family business so I could go, more than once.” Harper sighs. I shoot her an apologetic look before setting my sights on Landon.
“I’m still up in the air. I’m trying to coordinate with this new sculpturist of mine. If their exhibit dates don’t fall on the Paris dates, I’m all in.”
“I’m so proud of you, Nye. Seriously.” It would be a massive effort to stop smiling at this point.
“Thank you,” Her eyes shine, “But honestly, if I don’t go to the bathroom soon I’m going to regret it.” She hops up, and Harper follows suit.
“I’ll come with!”
They both scurry off through the crowd, and Landon drapes an arm on the back of their chair, narrowing their eyes at me.
“Yes?” I ask as sweetly as possible.
“Your apartment is being fumigated?”
“Correct.”
“So how long have you been staying at your dad’s?”
“About a week.”
“Right…right.” Landon twirls the spear of their martini around and around, toying with it. “Remember when my apartment was fumigated when we were in college? I sent you pictures of my makeshift room at my friend’s place?”
Fuck.
I had not remembered that. Not until now. I wonder if that’s why that excuse came to mind first…
“Oh god, yeah. That must have been so frustrating.”
“Yeah. It was a pretty grueling seventy-four hours.”
Oh, no.
“It was a smaller building, though.” I add, hoping for some reason that would justify a month of living at a new place.
“True. You’re right, I remember them saying sometimes it can take up to a week.”
There is some humor in their eyes, and I know Landon isn’t angry with me. But there is so much I can’t say. All I can picture is something bad happening to them because of me.
“You caught me, okay? It’s not being fumigated.” Joel coughs again behind me, clearly a nonverbal plea for me to shut up. Landon leans back in their chair with a smug smile.
“So what is it, then?”
I watch as their eyes grow progressively worried the longer I remain silent, and the guilt pulls me down further. I lower my voice, hoping I can convey everything I need to without actually answering them.
“I can’t say. And I really don’t want to worry anyone, especially Harper. Just…please trust me that I’m doing everything I can to stay safe.”
Landon goes pale. “Gwen…I’m sorry. I was sort of joking, I didn’t think it could be something like…” They tilt their head towards Joel.
“It’s okay. I was surprised, too. And I’m fine.”
“I want to offer my apartment, too, but I’m guessing it will have the same response as Nyah.”
I nod, giving them a sad smile.
“Okay…if it helps, you can still know that it’s there. At least, spiritually.” That does make me laugh a little. “Also, in that case you really should consider coming to Paris. I mean, if it’s safe. It might be good to get away.”
“I will definitely consider it,” I smile, and Landon places a sympathetic hand on my arm. “So who’s this new sculpturist of yours? Would I know any of their work?”
Landon laughs. “Would you know any sculpturist’s work?”
- - -
The second blessing of tonight is that it’s the last night before we have the all clear to move into the temporary apartment. The downside that comes with it is that it will be expected for Joel to sleep in a separate bedroom.
I hadn’t meant to keep asking him to stay. And I felt lucky, because I usually didn’t have to. He would ask, as if he could sense my unease. I feel guilty about that, too, as he did insist now on sleeping on the floor or in one of the wingback chairs. The only night he had slept in the bed with me was the first one here, and not that I’d say anything, but I miss it. I also won’t tell him that this is the longest any man has stayed in the room with me. Or that usually, I can barely sleep if someone else is in my bed. Yet that first night here, I only felt secure if he stayed. And every night since has been the best night sleep I’ve ever had in this house.
I try to watch him now as he gets ready for bed, and settles his back against one of the chairs, only half facing me. His poor back…it can’t be comfortable. I want to invite him over here again, or at least insist that I take the chair this time. But that would bring up some very unprofessional recent memories, and I don’t want to put him in that position again. Even as my guilt grows, admiring how broad his shoulders look in his white t-shirt. Even as I glance downwards, wondering how he’s slept in jeans for so many nights. If that meant that normally he would just be in his boxer shorts…
Deciding to look at the ceiling instead, I throw my head back so fast that I smack it against the headboard.
“Ow,” I moan quietly. Keeping my eyes upward, I hope Joel didn’t hear it.
“You alright?” He asks, a possible hint of humor in his tone.
“Fine. Totally fine.” I start to twiddle my thumbs over the top of the covers, and I’m glad he can’t see my face from where he’s sitting.
After a moment, Joel speaks again. “I don’t mean this to sound…condescending, but, you did a good job tonight. With Landon.”
And fuck if him saying good job in that low voice didn’t make my stomach muscles clench.
“It’s not condescending. Thank you. I wish I didn’t have to lie…I should have known Landon would see through it. Or any of them, for that matter.”
“You won’t have to lie forever. And you’re only doing it to protect them.”
Something about the softness of his voice makes me sit up again to watch his reaction as I ask tentatively, “Is that something you have to do a lot…in your profession?”
He considers it for a minute, running a hand through his hair. “I usually have to lie for clients, not to them. Simple things like giving someone the wrong location for a meeting, withholding exit strategies. Everything is on a need-to-know basis.”
Joel twists in his chair so he can make eye contact with me, and I must look worried because he adds, “I’ve never lied to you. I did withhold telling you about that second package, and I regret it.”
I nod, trying not to get too focused on his lips. “I believe you,” I whisper, surprised that I mean it. I have a feeling he would have lied to protect me. But now that I’ve told him I want to know whenever anything happens, I know he will tell me. Even if it makes me uncomfortable.
Joel’s eyes fall, and his mouth curves into a smirk. “If it helps…I’m actually a horrible liar.”
“What?” I let out a small giggle. “There’s no way. You’re so…stoic. It would be easy.”
“Stoic? I guess that’s a fair take. But yeah, I feel like you can always hear it in my voice. It’s easy if I’m talking to someone I don’t know, but if it’s anyone else, you can tell.”
“Huh,” I prop myself further up on my elbows. “I kinda want you to lie now so I can hear it.”
Joel huffs. “Okay, uh…I’m eight feet tall.”
“No, no it has to be something realistic. That sounds truthful because we both know that’s a lie. Tell me…” I flip my hair to the side, giving him a crazed smile. “Tell me I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.” I meant it as a joke, but Joel’s smile fades, taking in a sharp breath.
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I’ve stopped smiling now, too.
It didn’t sound like a lie. It sounded like a secret.
The gruff and husky timbre of his voice when he said it…It sounded like something that frustrated him. Something he’s thought about before, and never been able to say. The silence has spanned too long, so I cocked an eyebrow, attempting to tease him.
“You’re a better liar than you give yourself credit for.” Oh, no. Was it teasing, or flirting?
Joel doesn’t smile or laugh. The only acknowledgment that he heard me was that familiar creasing in between his eyebrows.
Again, that guilt grips me by the ankles, pulling me to sit up and regain my composure. My civility.
“Okay. Secret for a secret.” I clasp my hands together, thinking of what I could give him that wouldn’t further compromise this professional relationship.
“Secret for a secret?” He asks.
“Yeah. You told me one—how you’re a bad liar—so I’ll tell you one. A classic for sleepovers.”
Thankfully, this allows him to smirk again. “Alright.”
“Secretly…I’ve felt more calm here than I thought I would.” That doesn’t give away too much, right?
We stare at each other again before Joel’s smile turns teasing. “You? Calm? Is that even possible?”
I resist the urge to throw a pillow at him. “I said more calm than I thought, to be fair.”
Joel sighs, leaning back in his chair, “That’s hardly even a secret.”
It is if you knew the reason.
“What were you hoping to know?” I feel sleep tugging at me as I watch Joel caress the side of his jaw.
“Anything—nothing in particular.”
“Okay,” I yawn, “I was on the debate team in high school.”
Joel chuckles. “Also not exactly a secret.”
“Why? You looked that up too?”
“No. I just think you thrive going toe-to-toe,” I’m glad he can’t see my toes kicking under the covers as he says it. “But, I think you’d thrive more if you actually go to sleep.”
I’m about to protest, but my lip quivers trying to keep another yawn at bay. “Fine, maybe you’re right…just this once.”
“We can go over that in the morning,” I can hear the smile in his voice, and I get a small wave of panic, knowing that tomorrow, it will just be me, alone in an unfamiliar place.
- - -
I had only just stepped back into my office when the phone rang.
“Arthur! It’s been a minute. How’s it going?” He couldn’t attend last Wednesday's dinner, and since then, he’s been in China with my father.
“Guinevere. You sound chipper. I’m glad, because I have a favor to ask.”
“Figures.”
“You know the Maloy fundraiser tonight?”
“Sure do.” I clench my phone a little tighter, almost certain of what he’ll ask me. The Maloy’s were old friends of my parents, meaning they would send us a gift every Christmas in hopes that they could count on our annual donations the following year. I’m not entirely sure what the fundraiser is for, as I’ve been able to get out of the event since undergrad. And after recent events, I wouldn’t expect to be invited to many fundraisers…
“Well, our last meeting here has been pushed to tomorrow. We won’t make it back in time. I’m hoping you can represent the company.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling. “I can do that. Send me the details.”
There's a short pause on the other end. “Really?”
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“Nothing. Sounds good, I’ll send you the invite.”
I had big plans tonight of going to the new apartment, checking all the cabinets for signs of hidden cameras, freaking out a little, and maybe watching a movie with a glass of wine. The fundraiser throws a major wrench in that plan. But if it keeps my paranoid thoughts at bay for a few more hours, I’ll take it.
I tell Joel and Rodney as soon as we’re back in the car, or rather, the new car, since Rodney changed it today while I was at work. Joel’s idea in an effort to confuse whoever was watching.
“I’ll probably need to get a dress…but I have to be there in two hours.”
“We’ve had most of your wardrobe delivered to the new place, if that helps.” Joel says.
“Okay, I can work with that. I wonder if Aria and Mateo could meet me…”
I can tell from the way Joel runs his hand down his thigh that he has something to tell me. “I’m sorry, Miss Russell, but we can’t have anyone coming to the new place. I’d be happy to escort you to them, if you wish.”
“No that’s…that makes sense. I’ll make it work.”
We take a roundabout way to the new place, adding on an extra thirty minutes, which Joel apologizes for twice.
The building is smaller than I anticipated, being that it’s only six floors instead of twelve. There’s four units on each floor, and somehow they managed to get us three on the top floor. Managed, meaning that they definitely agreed to pay a year’s worth of rent up front. Minimum.
When Joel opens the door for me, I’m relieved to see that it’s a studio. A relatively spacious studio, as there’s still space for a couch and a small dining table. You enter into the kitchen, and there are floor-to-ceiling windows next to the bed directly across from the front door.
“At least you can see everything in one spot,” I mumble.
“That was the idea.”
Joel shows me the basics. Light switches, the security system they installed and how to arm it, and the most time-sensitive information: where they put my clothes. I start sifting through the closet, looking for something appropriate.
“I’m sorry to drag you to another black tie event,” I pull out a tea-length maroon dress that will probably suffice.
“I’m sorry you have to go,” Joel smooths his hand across the top of the dining table. “I also wanted to let you know that I think it’s best that Jace and Carlos come with us. They can stay in the car, but having them there as a precaution could be beneficial.”
The thought of Joel having backup wasn’t something I was going to argue with. “That’s fine.”
“I’m going to get changed. The door will lock automatically, and I’m out the hall to the right, Jace and Carlos are to the left. You can text or call if you need anything in the meantime.”
I give him a smile and a nod on his way out. I know him leaving wouldn’t bother me too much right now. It’s later I’m worried about.
First, I need to get through this dinner. Only, when I got in the car and Rodney started driving, I realized I had no idea where we were going. I open up the text from Arthur again.
“Carnegie Hall?” I whisper.
“Yes, Miss Russell.” Rodney responds. “Did you need to make any other stops?”
“No, thanks. I’m just surprised.” I figured it was a dinner, but reading the message over again, it’s just a cocktail hour followed by a show. That offers me some relief. I won’t have to talk for too long at least.
My phone rings in my hand, and I feel uncomfortable answering it when I’m sandwiched between Carlos and Jace. That is, until I see who’s calling.
“What?” I snap.
“Well, hello to you, too.” Daniel’s crisp, irritating voice fills my ear.
“What do you want?”
“I heard you were coming to the Maloy event. I’m outside to pick you up.”
My shoulders stiffen. No one is supposed to know where I am, and I think it’s best if I don’t lie completely. This weasel will sniff it out. “Why would you do that?”
“You, Cyrus and I are representing Russell Corp tonight. Why not?”
“I’m already on the way there. Thanks, though.”
“How far? We could still carpool.”
“Don’t tell me you fired another driver. Take a cab if you need to, Daniel. I’ll see you there.” Unfortunately.
He hangs up with one last huff. Maybe that was his own bizarre way of trying to apologize for his behavior the other night.
There are a few photographers outside the event, and with a guest list like this, they’re looking for more popular fish to fry than me. I pose for a few polite frames before Joel leads me into the lobby. A lobby that had been transformed into two bars and several white cloth tables. Looking around the expansive room, I stop in my tracks, nostalgia softly washing through me.
“What is it?” Joel hovers his hand near my back, never truly touching. I have the desire to lean against him, to somehow share what I’m feeling through the contact.
“I forgot about the last time I was here. My mom brought me when I was little…At the time, I thought it was boring,” Joel smiles as I speak, “My favorite part was how high the ceilings were.”
“What did you two see?” His voice is so gentle, and curious. I suddenly wish we weren’t here for work, but just for pleasure.
“I can’t remember, actually. I know that there was a flautist and a big orchestra. And I remember I had these amazing sparkly shoes.” I laugh, feeling the same bout of excitement I had when my mom brought them home for me.
Joel looks down at me just as soft as his voice had been, and carefully, carefully, cups my lower back, caressing soft lines with his thumb. My face heats, and I want to lean my side into his.
“I’ve changed my mind,” He murmurs.
“About what?”
“My New York bucket list. I think I just checked one off.”
I survey the room again. “Carnegie Hall? It’s a good one.”
He shrugs, looking around with moderate interest. “Something like that.”
I scan his face again, but he shifts away from me, leaving me feeling much colder than I was when we entered. Only a moment later, I see why.
“Guinevere,” Cyrus comes up and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “Glad you could make it last minute.”
“Me too. Should be a good show.” I still had no idea who we were seeing tonight.
“I hope the traffic wasn’t too bad.”
“Oh no, it was fine. It’s not that far from my place.” It wasn’t, from my typical apartment that is.
“Right. That’s true.” He takes a long sip of whatever dark liquor was in his glass. “Should we go say hi to the Maloys? Daniel should be here any minute.”
Great.
“Sounds good.”
The Maloys were happy to see us, even when Daniel showed up. We only had to exchange a few pleasantries, asking for updates on their grandchildren, their business practices. Much more painless than what I thought this night would become. Until the lights flicker, and everyone starts to shuffle inside. Daniel is close enough to raise my blood pressure, his hand often grazing my lower back.
“We should get a drink after the show,” He says as we’re escorted to our seats.
I hope my shock isn’t too evident on my face. “I don’t think I can. I have an early morning tomorrow.”
His eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed. “It won’t take that long. We can go somewhere close.”
Joel shifts slightly, having been behind me before, he now pokes his hand between Daniel and I, guiding my waist into our row. Daniel looks up at him, horrified.
“I believe you can sit behind us,” He hisses, “Being staff and all.”
“Protocol.” Is all Joel says.
Daniel must still be a little afraid of him from the other night, because he actually lets Joel in next so we’ll be seated with each other. When he’s busy getting settled, I mouth a silent thank you to Joel, who gives me a smile in return.
The show is incredible. The ensemble on stage is vast, and the performance is long enough that we get to hear solos from almost every section. Every time I glance over at Joel, his eyes seem to be looking at the ceiling, and my heart leaps. And then, in the final third act of the performance, when my eyes are shiny and my hands are tightly clasped together, he presses his knee against mine. And he doesn’t move it away.
Instinct takes over for a split second, as I move my hand, wanting to take his. At least I’m able to stop myself before that happens.
After the performance, I say goodbye to Cyrus and Daniel, who, looking at Joel, doesn’t mention drinks again. We’re able to get back in the car without speaking to anyone else, and I’m relieved to have an evening where nothing goes awry as I slide in next to Jace. Carlos is in the front seat next to Rodney, leaving Joel to sit next to me.
This time, I don’t want to go to the apartment as soon as possible. I don’t want to go back there and lay in a new bed, ruminating on the same old fears. I know, logically, that I’m safe there. But what if someone broke into Joel’s apartment first? What if he was alone, and asleep…completely defenseless?
As if Joel could hear my current spiral, he presses his knee against mine once again. And when I finally dare to look up at him, the city lights illuminating his face as we drive through the night, I’m amazed there was ever a time where I would do anything to make him leave.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
word count: 3.7k
ao3 | wattpad
Chapter 20: Gravity
Joel
On one of my first assignments as a rookie, the diplomat placed in our care was ambushed during a rather standard procedure, driving him from one checkpoint to another. Gunfire rang out around us, and dust clouded our vision. My heartbeat was so loud, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to hear when the assailant approached us. There was a moment where I was dragging the client to safety, as fear left him nearly paralyzed.
During training camp, when I was only twenty years old, our crew became lost. I thought that they must know where we were, but as we began to starve, I thought otherwise. Members of our squadron were restless, some begging to be released from the program. But there were no officers around to hear them and grant them a discharge. There was no way for us to get back. It went on for almost two weeks before they finally found us.
That is why, with over a decade of harrowing experiences under my belt, I can say with absolute certainty that last night was the biggest test of willpower I have ever had.
People tend to make rash decisions when they’re under the influence of adrenaline. My experience has taught me that as well, time and time again. But in true Gwen fashion, everything about last night was completely unexpected.
I’m just glad you’re alright.
I had seen how Gwen was with her friends, her coworkers, and everyone she interacted with who wasn’t her father, or someone on the board. She was kind, genuine, and occasionally maybe even a little soft. Even still, never did I think that would be her reasoning for kissing me the way she did.
Especially not after I almost yelled at her in her apartment. My fear fused with frustration too soon. I was furious with her for leaving, and the image of her standing there, armed with a piece of decor in her silky pajamas, only made me more angry. Not at her, but at whoever keeps toying with her. I should have known she wouldn’t listen, but knowing that she only came out like that because she was afraid for me? That fueled my anger for this stalker into a full blown rage.
But the look in those eyes when she asked me to stay…
There would never be an answer other than yes. Or, always. Of course. However long you may want me.
She seemed scared, but with a woman that stubborn, I know that if she seems scared, she is terrified.
Instinct had taken over, and I wrapped my arms around her without thinking. But feeling her tremble beneath my hands was more than enough motivation to muster up the appropriate restraint. The temptation only reared its ugly head again when the regret and dejection written all over her face made me want to kiss her senseless. To kiss her everywhere, only stopping to tell her she’s done nothing wrong, that she’s okay. That we both are.
But I did resist it, even when she was unknowingly inching closer to me on the bed. Even as she slept, her hand reached over the covers, coming close enough to me that I was worried my breath would wake her up. I already knew what I felt for Guinevere Russell. I didn’t need a kiss to confirm that. What I hadn’t known was how befuddled her feelings might be, and how guilty I would feel for having to resist her.
She was anxious, wanting to blow off some steam.
I’m just glad you’re alright.
I twist my head again to look at her face, as I have been for the last few hours. Her lips slightly parted, any lines of frustration melted away. She looked so peaceful now. She was beautiful when she was angry, but she is absolutely dazzling when she is at peace. Unbearably so when she laughs. It would be impossible, downright unthinkable, that a woman like her could have any feelings at all for a man like me. Let alone lust or wanting. I wouldn’t even call it lust. It was just confusion. It had to be.
I’m just glad you’re alright.
I twist to my other side, hearing Gwen let out a small noise as I do so. Why had she been thinking of me at all? This was my job. I was here to protect her, regardless of the outcome for me. That had always been the job.
I’m just glad you’re alr—
Enough.
I stand up from the bed and bolt to the bathroom, only slowing long enough to close the door softly. I brace my arms against the sink, flexing my back and shoulders until they’re on the brink of straining.
Checking my watch, it’s 6:50am already. She’ll be waking soon. Last night aside, I’ve never seen Gwen sleep in on a work day. I huff out a long breath and turn the shower on, hoping the water will rid me of hearing her voice, her concern, and the relief I felt on her lips. I stay under the water for an extra five minutes, scrubbing my hands multiple times, though it doesn’t quite erase the memory of holding her waist. It doesn’t seem to rid me of my guilt, either.
My shirt sticks to me even after I dry off, but I don’t have any other options with me. I keep a go-bag in Rodney’s car, so at least I can make arrangements to change soon. I shake my hair in a towel before exiting the bathroom as quietly as I had entered, only to see Gwen sitting straight up in the bed across from me.
Her cheeks were tinted pink with sleep, but her eyes were wary from waking. Or more likely, they were wary from remembering.
“Morning,” she breathes, eyeing me carefully. Even under the covers, she adjusts the robe she fell asleep in to cover her shoulders more.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” I cross the room to pull my phone out of my discarded jacket, mostly so I’d have a reason to look somewhere else. I take the opportunity to text Rod.
“Fine. Do you have the time?”
“It’s 7:10.”
Gwen groans, ripping back the covers immediately. “I have an 8:15 with Julian this morning,” she makes her way toward her bag, opening it up and ripping out the dress laying on top.
“You’re…set on going to work then?” I watch her rush into the bathroom and start to comb through her hair. I’ve watched her exercise, eat, and work, and yet somehow seeing her in a bathrobe, first thing in the morning, brushing her hair, feels like some immense, intimate privilege. It felt like someone I admire allowing me a behind the scenes look into their life. And after last night, I didn’t feel deserving of it.
“Of course I am,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Miss Russell, you’ve been through a lot.”
She doesn’t even take her eyes off of the mirror. “Staying here won’t make that untrue. And I can’t have anyone knowing what happened last night.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” I say softly. “If anyone asks I’ll say that I slept in a guest room.”
This gets her attention, and she looks a bit stunned. “I meant about the broken windows, and the note, especially,” she takes a shallow breath, “What else would I mean?”
You know damn well what you might mean.
“Got it.”
Her eyebrows scrunch down, but she goes back to the mirror, reaching for a toothbrush.
“Rodney delivered my bag downstairs, I’m going to grab it and get changed. I can meet you down there.”
“Oh,” Gwen’s eyes widen, her hand moving to rest on the doorframe. “You’re meeting him outside, or…?”
“No, ma’am, he left the bag downstairs. I’ll just change in the restroom down there.” I speak up a little, wondering if she misheard me the first time.
Gwen halts her movements, the toothbrush in her hand now suspended midair. Even from here, the fear etched into her side profile was glaring.
My heart cracks.
“It will take no time at all. Then I’ll come back up to get you.” I know she won’t ask for it, but she’s clearly not ready to be left alone.
“Okay. Sounds good,” her voice is cheerful, but clipped. I walk out before I make the mistake of asking if she wants to talk about it.
I change quickly into a fresh, dark pair of jeans and the light blue button up Gwen had picked out. I’m glad I thought to put some basics like deodorant, cologne and a toothbrush in the bag as well. When I return upstairs, I try to open the door only to find out it’s locked.
I knock, putting my ear against it.
“Miss Russell?”
A moment later, Gwen opens the door, looking as if she had her entire team style her. The dark circles under her eyes have been covered slightly, and her hair was soft and flowy in big waves. The deep blue dress she has on had to be one of the best things I’ve ever seen her wear, as it complemented her coloring and her curves remarkably well. Or maybe I’m just relieved to see some of the worry has left her face.
“I like that one on you,” she gives me a small smile, breezing past me as if every negative thing that happened last night had simply been a dream.
“Thank you,” my voice is hoarse, and I clear my throat as I trail behind her. When we’re inside the car, it takes me an extra ten minutes to think of how to phrase the next pressing matter.
“We should probably discuss future living arrangements today. I’m not comfortable with the idea of you going back to the apartment. Not until we figure out how they were able to break the windows without triggering the alarm.”
Gwen looks out the window for so long that I’m unsure if she heard me. Then, she whispers, “I’m not going to lose that apartment.”
“It will be temporary, I promise.”
I see her nod out of the corner of my eye. That’s enough about that for now.
I have a talk with the front desk on our way up to the office, letting them know that we will not be accepting any gifts or packages, and that they should be documenting who is trying to drop them off. I tell them that too many public relations offices are trying to get Gwen’s attention, and sending them here is inappropriate. The definitiveness of my voice seems not to raise any suspicion. After I escort Gwen to her meeting with Julian, I call Amari.
“Hey, Joel. How’s she doing?”
I take a few steps further into the hallway, making sure no one is around to hear me. “She’s shaken up, but she’ll be okay. Any news?”
“It’s news but it’s not good news, I’m afraid. Still no fingerprints. We’re guessing the rope helped someone lob them through the windows, and we’re still trying to figure out how they did it. Best guess is that it came from the high-rise next door, but we’ve contacted the owner and they’ve been doing repairs to almost half of the floors. It’s unlikely that anyone had access to the building during those hours, but not unthinkable. Especially if they were trespassing. We’re still looking into that possibility.”
“The strength to make it across the alleyway like that feels like more than a one-man job. And to make it into the correct apartment, no less.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too. I have three of the guys scouting out that high-rise today, I can let you know if I hear of anything else.”
“Yeah, okay. Any idea on how they got past the alarm?”
“That’s the part I’m actually most concerned about…I can’t confirm it, but I think someone may have cut the power.”
“I chose the system myself. It doesn't matter if the power is cut, it’s hardwired. There’s also a backup battery that lasts at least three days.”
Amari is quiet for a moment. “I’ll have to check with the building staff. If that’s the case, it means someone cut the line from the inside.”
A shiver of regret and fear runs down my back. He’s right. He’s right and I hadn’t even considered it.
“Amari, if that is true—”
“We’re dealing with a highly knowledgeable, possibly highly trained, stalker, yes.”
“And it could be more than one person. And they’ve gained entry into a private sector of the building.”
“Yes.”
I lean my head back against the wall, silently cursing under my breath. “If the hardwiring was cut along with the power, they were in the building. So why then bother sending something through the window if they’re already inside?”
“That’s what I want to know. On top of how they got in the building in the first place.”
“Keep me posted. Thanks, Amari.”
“No problem. Also, Joel, this is just a theory, but it’s also possible they know she has a team with her in the building. Otherwise…I don’t see what would have stopped them from coming inside again last night.”
Again, my spine stiffens. I had known that I’m Gwen’s first line of defense this entire time. I hadn’t known how prevalent that threat may be, and just how invested I would become.
- - -
If Gwen had more energy, I know she would have groaned when I insisted she follow me into the kitchen after work. Though I did get a small gleam of pride when her face brightened once she saw the bowls. I had texted Melissa to prepare whatever comfort food Gwen used to ask for, and apparently that was French onion soup. It smells amazing, and Gwen closes her eyes to take in a long whiff.
“Thank you,” she says sincerely.
“Melissa made it.”
Gwen rolls her eyes, picking up her spoon. “I figured. But thank you for thinking of that.”
The soup tastes even better than it smells. Gwen had worked through lunch, refusing to come out of her office unless she had another meeting to attend. I imagine work is another form of distraction, just like last night. I try to push that image out of my head as I rip off a piece of bread from the baguette between us.
“Okay, what is it?” Gwen sighs, dusting her hands off on one another.
“Hmm?” I raise my eyebrows, mouth full of food.
“You keep giving me this look like you want to say something.”
It’s a bit uncomfortable how long it takes me to finish swallowing before I can answer her. “I spoke with Amari today, and I want to keep you updated like we talked about. I just wasn’t sure if now is a good time.”
“Ah,” Gwen gets up, making her way to the wine fridge before getting out two glasses. She lifts one to me, but I just shake my head. She pours herself a glass before returning to say, “Now it’s a good time.”
I tell her about Amari’s phone call, almost word for word. She whispers something in the middle of it.
“What was that?”
“The oven. The time was wrong. I remember seeing it, being surprised that it was only midnight.”
“It read twelve o'clock…like it needed to be reset.”
“From a power outage.”
“Right…dammit.” I take a long swig of water before I realize what I’ve said. Another small chip away at my professionalism. I peek over at Gwen, but she’s smirking.
“See? That had some twang.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at the floor.
“I have to say though, why would they care enough to cut the power? Throwing a brick through someone’s window is just as loud as an alarm. And if they knew about the alarm beforehand, they were willing to risk breaking into the building…but not my unit? There was going to be a noise either way, why would it matter?” She swirls her wine around in her glass in time with her contemplation.
“I agree. The other thing Amari mentioned is that they might have known you had security in the building with you. It could have deterred them from entering. I know your father doesn’t return for another week, but I would propose we find you a rental in the meantime if you don’t wish to stay here for the foreseeable future. And we should sign for it in another name.”
Gwen nods, chewing on the inside of her cheek, avoiding my eyes.
“That makes sense,” she picks at her non-existent cuticles. “Mr. Miller…knowing that, how your presence might have helped, only makes me more sorry for—”
“Isn’t this cozy?”
I stand, startled, blocking Gwen from view, only to see Daniel leaning against the doorframe. Unfortunately, this show of mine only makes him laugh.
“Easy, guard dog.” He saunters over to the other side of the counter so he can get a better look at us both.
“Guard dog? He has more of a right to be here than you do, stray.” Gwen glares at him, bringing me a lick of excitement.
“Oh, sorry,” Daniel says as if he lightly grazed someone’s arm by accident. He then grabs the extra glass, and pours a serving of whatever red Gwen is drinking. “Gwenny, what are you doing here anyway?”
“What am I doing in my childhood home? I could ask the same of you.”
“Your father needs something he left in the study. I’m supposed to scan it to him.” He eyes our bowls, “Are you staying over?”
His voice makes nails on a chalkboard sound like a quartet of soft harps. Why would a meal mean we were staying here?
“If it will stop your pestering, I’m redecorating. The smell of wallpaper was giving me a migraine.”
Daniel eyes her over the rim of his glass. “Ah…so you came to the most tranquil place you could think of.”
“I don’t know the meaning of that word when you’re around.”
The two of them stare daggers at each other, and I try not to make my distaste too obvious. Daniel might not have known what Gwen went through in the past twenty four hours, but this seemed to be his M.O. No matter the day, he wants to bury himself under her skin. And it was starting to make mine crawl.
“I think we’re done here,” I get up, taking Gwen’s bowl and stacking it on top of mine before carrying them over to the sink.
“Wow, look at that! He’s so well-trained.” Daniel laughs to himself, taking another sip. If it wasn’t decided before, I have decided now.
I walk over to Daniel, forgoing the option to return to Gwen’s side of the island, and I keep walking even when we are uncomfortably close. Even as I tower over him, and his back bumps against the counter, making his scared eyes grow even wider. I make sure my delivery is slow, controlled, and full of venom.
“Impeccably trained, Mr. Wilson. Perhaps you would give Miss Russell a bit of space tonight, so we won’t be in need of a demonstration.”
Daniel’s face turns beat red, and I can see the anger forming at the center of his pinched face.
“You do know who you’re speaking to, don’t you?” To his credit, he doesn’t fumble any of the words.
“I do,” I smirk down at him, “Do you?”
Daniel opens his mouth. Closes it. He opens it again, looking just as angry as he is scared, and yet nothing comes out.
I smile over at Gwen, whose lips are parted, looking at me like my hair just turned blue. “Are you ready, ma’am?”
“Y–yes.” She hops up from her seat, and again I feel that twinge of excitement. She’ll only stutter when she’s incredibly overwhelmed. It had hurt last night hearing it, knowing that I needed to ease up on her, knowing that she was scared. But now? I see that twinkle in her eye, burning brighter as I address her. I need to keep this ego of mine in check, especially as I guide her out of the kitchen, leaving a flabbergasted Daniel in our wake.
We walk in silence to her bedroom door. Gwen walks right in, dropping her purse on one of the chairs. I follow, but only a few steps inside.
“I’m sorry about him,” she says, “He wasn’t always such a nuisance, but he did always want attention.”
“It’s not your fault,” I lean against the dresser to the left of the door.
“Could you do me a favor, though?”
“Of course.”
“I might need you to come with me to buy him some Depends. He nearly shit himself.”
I laugh, real and guttural. For the first time in a long while, and it makes Gwen giggle in the way that melts every fiber of my being.
I stare at her for a fraction too long, and I end up rubbing the back of my neck for something to do. “Just for clarification, is it alright with you if we find another apartment? A hotel is too risky, there are too many people able to come in and out.”
“You’re asking for my permission? I’m honored.” Clearly the humor hasn’t died out from Gwen’s face. “But yes, that’s fine. I would rather do that than stay here, especially with the…unwanted guests.”
“Understood.”
The air grows thin with the silence that follows, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. I’m worried, though, that she’ll be too proud to ask for it.
“Would it be easier if I stayed here again tonight?”
A small wave of relief rolls over her features. “I think it would. As long as you’re comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable.” I almost said that I’ve never been uncomfortable around her, but that would be a lie. The issue is, I’m not uncomfortable with her, at least not how she exists in reality. I’m very uncomfortable with my thoughts of her, and how infrequent my thoughts of duty and professionalism seem to be.
But when your center of gravity asks you to stay, how do you say no?
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
word count: 4.8k
ao3 | wattpad
Chapter 19: Intrusion
Gwen
If staring worked like water, eroding ceilings over time until they discolor and eventually collapse, I’d be covered in drywall and looking into the eleventh floor by now.
For three nights, all I do is stare. I fall in and out of sleep when even the brightest burn of anger dies down to an amber, but worry is quick to bring me back, stoking the flames. I usually wake with a soft gasp, or a twitch of my arm, as if I’m subconsciously shocked to feel as afflicted as I do.
I had said too much. I could have just told Joel that this was unacceptable, and he needed to inform me of every new development. That was true. But I didn’t expect to take it as…a betrayal. The thought makes me pinch my eyes closed. It means I trust Joel enough to have expectations for him, and that means I let my own feelings take hold for far too long. He was here on a job. I was teetering on the edge of admitting things about him, and about the corporation, that I had never dared utter out loud. I let my anger guide my words, and it’s a small blessing that’s all that came out.
The annoying thing is, after three nights of ruminating, I now found what Joel did endearing. Overstepping? Absolutely. But endearing nonetheless. And what’s more is, he admitted it. He apologized, even. It hadn’t been even a week since the package arrived before he told me, and knowing how stressed he’s seemed at every event with my friends, the fact that he wanted me to go…and the fact that he noticed it was something I needed... It felt like he cared about me beyond just blocking someone from my path.
Now, while I pretend to sleep, I try not to think about how much he could care, and if it was the same way I did. Joel probably had that level of compassion towards every client. I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, thinking I was somehow different or special. And even though it was my decision, I’m starting to regret not speaking to him these past few days. Maybe I should apologize in the morning. I could get him a coffee or something as a peace offering—
CRASH!
Glass shatters in the living room.
I’m not sure what it sounds like, to hear glass shattering in the living room from where I’m laying, until this very moment. I can’t think of what else that noise could be. I rack my brain of possible alternatives, coming up short in less than a few seconds. Rolling over, I yank my phone free from the charger, texting Joel immediately.
Me: Brandy
Not even a second later, he’s typing back.
Joel: Lock your door. Don’t come out until I say.
My heart pounds in my ears, and I move as quickly and quietly as I can to the doorway. I try to turn the lock slowly, so the clicking doesn’t ring out. Regardless, I still cringe as the lock slips into place.
A second crash sounds from the living room, and I cover my mouth to hide a small cry.
I hear Joel’s door open, though it’s quiet in comparison. I wish I could postpone the ringing in my ears so I could hear what’s happening in the living room, but I know there’s no more glass breaking right now. I don’t hear any voices either, just the soft padding of Joel’s stride down the hall. I find myself holding my breath, knowing that by now he must be able to see whoever is inside.
What if it’s a whole team of people against him?
I text Amari.
Me: 911 send help
Still, I hear nothing. What if they bound his mouth? Or they knocked him unconscious and didn’t let him hit the floor?
I’m startled when I hear erratic, quickened breathing, but I quickly realize it’s me. I cover my mouth, hoping it will stifle the hyperventilation.
Amari: on our way
My hands are shaking so badly I’m afraid I might drop my phone. Should I stay here by the doorway? Do I hide in the closet? I feel like any movement I make will be heard, and could encourage them to come seeking.
The silence is too loud, too noxious. Tears prick in my eyes. An image of Joel being beaten and bloody clouds my mind. I grab for the doorknob, hesitating.
Trust your instincts.
He had said it during our training session. I know he told me not to leave, but I couldn’t let him get hurt. And my instincts were screaming at me to move. With my still-shaking hands, I grab a marble bookend off of my dresser, gripping it until my knuckles turn white. I place my phone on the ground near the doorway, turning it on to record. If anything happens…at least there will be that evidence. Two more sharp inhales, and I unlock the door, hurling myself into the hallway, sprinting down to the living room.
The bookend is held high, ready to bring it down upon someone’s head, and I frantically search left and right for Joel. I notice two small lumps on the ground, but no people. No Joel.
Thud-ump, thud-ump, thud-ump.
All I hear is my heartbeat roaring as I continue to scan the living room. But there’s nothing. I take a step forward, noticing how one of the curtains flutters—
“Don’t move!” Someone bellows, making me scream. I turn, hosting the bookend higher, preparing to give them hell.
But it’s Joel. Just Joel. Standing by the kitchen island, a broom in his hand.
“There’s glass. Don’t take another step.” He commands, rushing to the nearby hall closet to pull out my gym shoes. He makes quick work of bringing them over to me, offering his shoulder for me to lean against as he bends down to help me slip them on.
“Where are they?” I whisper.
Joel gingerly tries to take the bookend away from me, but I resist. “No one broke in,” he says.
“Then why didn’t you call me? Why are the lights off?”
“Because I think whoever did this is still outside. You need to back up, for your own safety.”
In that deep, commanding voice, I listen to him. I back up until I’m standing at the edge of the hallway. Through the dark, I try to assess what he’s talking about. Joel follows my gaze, pointing to the two separate lumps on the ground.
“They’re bricks. Someone threw them through the window.”
That explains why the curtain is moving on its own. And with my senses beginning to regulate, it also explains the cold breeze I start to register on my skin.
“Can we turn on the light?” I hate how small my voice sounds, but not enough to keep me from asking.
“No,” Joel moves in front of the window, peering at the roof of the building next door. “If they’re trying to target you, turning on the lights just puts this game on easy mode. Another reason you should’ve listened to me when I told you to stay put!”
“Oh,” I breathe, shifting in my sneakers. He sounds angry.
No, not angry—livid.
Joel doesn’t say another word as he sweeps the glass closest to me, shifting it back to the window.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my pajama shorts. “Why didn’t the alarm go off?”
“I don’t know,” he grumbles, putting the broom down.
“I–I texted Amari.”
For some reason, this makes him shift his attention to me. “That’s good.”
“They should—should be here, soon.” I put the bookend down on the floor next to me.
He stares at me for another moment, before he speaks in a slightly softer tone, despite his rage-filled eyes. “You should go pack a bag. We’ll leave as soon as they get here.”
I turn back to my room without so much as a nod.
I start in the bathroom, gathering my makeup and toiletries, before grabbing a weekender out of my closet. I’m not sure if this is just for the night, so I pack two extra dresses for work just in case. After everything is zipped up, it occurs to me that I should change into something other than a silky sleep set. My hands haven’t stopped shaking as I slip into a pair of jeans and a pullover sweater.
I overhear Joel approving Amari and the team to come up in the elevator. I don’t want to go out and face them. I don’t want to hear the possible explanations, or the chatter of security measures I don’t quite understand.
Bricks? On the tenth floor? That feels impossible. This whole night feels impossible. I shove my hands in my pockets as I leave my room, not wanting anyone else to know the effect of this chaos.
Thankfully, with the entire crew here, Joel feels it’s safe enough to turn the lights back on. That alone provides a bit of comfort to my tightening chest. Amari stalks over to me as soon as he sees me.
“Miss Russell. You’re unharmed?”
“Yes. I’m…fine.”
“Good,” he places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, glancing around at the seven men inspecting my apartment.
They’re inspecting everything. Every crevasse, even those that have nothing to do with the windows. One of the men is leaning towards the bricks, and I follow his gaze. Looking down, I notice long pieces of rope tied around both bricks, with a white paper wrapped around the one closest to me.
“You’re shitting me.” I hiss, creeping toward the brick. This captures nearly all of their attention, as many pairs of surprised eyes turn my way. Three of them try to stop me, but Joel is the one who gets to me first, wrapping a gentle hand around the crook of my elbow.
“There are shards everywhere. What do you need?”
“There’s a fucking note. There’s a damn note attached to the fucking brick!” I point at the ground, my voice wobbling. Joel’s eyes widen slightly.
“Okay,” he says in a voice that may be reserved for negotiation tactics. “Let me get it.”
My eyes drop down to the floor and I nod.
Amari steps forward, his hand outstretched. “There could be fingerprints. We shouldn’t touch it yet.”
Joel looks from my face to Amari’s. “Someone get me a glove.”
“Joel, just in case—”
“Amari,” that same commanding tone is back. “She deserves to know.” Joel gives me the smallest of nods, and I hope my expression conveys my gratitude. After last week, I know he’s trying to make amends. But honestly, that hiccup is the last thing on my mind right now. Jace, one of the security members, hands Joel a glove and he immediately grabs the note.
Joel glances at me, a silent permission to read the note out loud. Whatever he sees on my face, it allows him to continue.
“My warnings are as earnest as my gifts. You should be in charge of the company. Go after what you really want. Like me.” Joel reads it as monotone as possible, and still, a shiver runs down my back. He’s watching me carefully, and I just want out. I need to get out of here.
“What’s the point?” I say softly. “Why would anyone care about that? They want me to, what, force my father to retire? Just so they know specifically what floor I’m on? They already know where I live.” My voice cracks again on the last word, and I just clear my throat, adjusting the bag on my shoulder. No one in the room responds to my questions. Not that they would have any of the answers.
“We should go. You need to sleep, and there’s no reason the security system should have been silent with two broken windows.” Joel moves to my side, taking the bag off of my shoulder. I don’t protest. My eyelids are heavy despite my quickened heart and sweaty palms. What time is it?
I glance into my kitchen, and the oven reads exactly twelve o'clock. I would have thought it was later, after laying awake for so long. But I suppose time passes differently when those types of thoughts are keeping you up. As much as I didn’t want to think about what my feelings for Joel are, I would give anything to go back to an hour ago when that was my biggest concern. Trying to figure out what he means to me is far less frightening than worrying about his safety.
I look at the solemn faces scattered around my living room. Some pretending to work, some obviously waiting for me to leave so they can start. I nod at Joel before turning to Amari.
“No one should hear of this. No one on the board, no one outside this room.” Not only would attention from the press exacerbate the issue, I also didn’t need anyone on the board looking at me like I was weak.
Amari looks apologetic. “I sent word to your father. No one beyond him will hear of it. You have my word.”
I don’t have the energy to feel disappointment. “Okay.”
Joel guides me toward the elevator, and Jace and Carlos follow us inside.
“It would be wise to tighten security measures, just for tonight.” Joel says low enough that they don’t hear it. “They’re going to help me escort you.”
“Okay,” I repeat, my tone drained for any emotion.
I’m not surprised that we pull up to my father’s house. Even if we doubled our security, it wouldn’t make sense to go somewhere unfamiliar tonight. The small blessing is that my father is in China for the next week. I thought I was lucky just getting out of the weekly dinner, but this is an additional bonus in the middle of an awful night.
Carlos asks if I want him to wake Melissa to make me something. I shake my head, ensuring Joel was in tow before making my way up the stairs. Jace and Carlos stay in the foyer, double checking that the house is armed as we leave them behind. I check again to make sure Joel is behind me as I round the corner of the hallway. He’s watching me, as always, but he doesn’t say anything. At my door, I hesitate.
“Do you want your privacy? I can leave before you…” he trails off, obviously confused. Why would I need privacy just to open my bedroom door?
“No,” my voice comes out as a whisper. I step inside, but I find myself turning around again. I feel…fear. Fear that he won’t be there. That if I don’t keep my eyes on him, he’ll disappear.
“I’ll be right outside,” Joel leans forward, dropping my bag inside the room.
I wring my hands, staring at our feet. I can’t close the door. I can’t be alone, and even more so, I can’t have him be alone. The image that clouded my head tonight, thinking someone had hurt him—
“Why didn’t you listen?” He asks softly. “You could have been hurt. Miss Russell, if someone were there, you could have been—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Now isn’t the time. You need sleep.”
“So do you,” I say. His pained, weary eyes meet mine. “Please don’t stay outside.” Panic runs cold through my arms, in disbelief of what I’m saying.
“You’d prefer for me to stay in one of the guest rooms?”
“No,” I shake my head rapidly, “Can you stay with me? Please.”
Joel swallows audibly, taking a second to glance behind me at the room. Then he gives me a curt, professional nod. “Of course.”
He picks up the bag again, walking past me to set it on one of the chairs instead.
“I think…I think I’m going to shower.” I unzip the bag and reach for my toiletries.
“Shower?” He glances down at his watch. “It’s almost three in the morning.”
What? It took less than a half hour for us to get over here. My oven must be wrong…
“I’m just…cold. My hands,” I hold them out, no longer embarrassed for Joel to see them shake. His eyebrows thread together watching them quiver.
“Okay. I’ll be here.” He takes a seat in one of the chairs. I practically sprint for the bathroom, wanting the steam to expel the dread from my pores as soon as possible. I lock the door behind me for added protection.
Once I'm under the water, it does help to ease some of my tension. But even when I decide to wash my hair, it’s still not distracting enough. Where at my own apartment, I felt so exhausted that I just wanted to be taken out of there, I now feel wired. Like it’s a necessity for me to stay awake, and to will my mind to focus on other things. If I try to sleep, what will happen? If I close my eyes or think too long, I just see Joel again, bloody and injured on my living room rug.
I take an extra few minutes to lather up my body, trying to wash away this new buzz running through me. After the shower, I take an equal amount of time using lotion for the same reason. But the buzz becomes an itch, and I can’t think of a way to scratch it. Part of what I’m feeling is relief. There was a split second tonight where I thought Joel had been seriously hurt, and in my mind, he was unconscious. Unable to move. I knew he was angry with me for defying his order, but I would be far too angry with myself if I hadn’t done it. And the relief I feel now overtakes any remaining feeling of panic, though it demands further distraction to keep the panic at bay. I want to run towards that relief, but I’ve completed every distraction I can in this room. And that’s when I become incredibly aware of the fact that Joel is right outside the door, safe.
Safe and… alone…in my bedroom.
As I wrap myself up in a robe, I still feel that there is an itch needing to be scratched. A need for relief that I can hold, something tangible that confirms he’s truly alright. And I can think of only one way to honor this relief. Only one way to provide a distraction.
Exiting out of the bathroom, Joel stands, averting his gaze when he sees I’m only wearing a robe. With his eyes on the door, I start to cross over to him.
“Miss Russell, I need to apologize. I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you. I know that this has been a long night—-”
Standing chest to chest with him, his face is bewildered as I grab the back of his neck with both hands, pulling him down to my lips.
I kiss him harshly. Desperately. Pulling him as close to me as I can manage, though I can’t seem to get him close enough. His hands fly to my hips, holding me against him. I sigh, realizing how terribly I’ve wanted him to touch me for god knows how long. I wish the robe wasn’t so thick so I could feel his calloused hands against my skin. And he smells so good.
But his lips…he’s barely kissing me back. Not even a moment later, as if someone jolted him, he grabs my hands, pulling them away from his neck. He holds them in front of his chest, creating a barricade between us.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” he murmurs, his voice husky and low.
“Yes,” I practically whine, “I am.” I try to pull out of his grasp, but he shakes his head.
“You’re still shaking. You may be in shock.” Joel’s chest is heaving, assessing my face like he’s looking for injury.
At that, rejection hits me in the gut, and I feel my cheeks turn a deep shade of red. I try to pull away again, now feeling the panic resurface.
What have I done? He doesn’t want that. He works for my father, for fuck’s sake. Now I might lose him anyway.
“Hey,” Joel whispers, tugging my hands closer to his chest now. “You’re okay.”
“I-I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me…” I shake my head over and over as Joel shushes me. “That was so inappropriate. I’m sorry, I’m just glad you’re—alright.” I hiccup, and tears are dangerously close to spilling over now.
“You’re okay,” Joel repeats, now pulling me flush against his chest. He continues to shush me softly, one of his hands wrapping around my waist and one smoothing my hair. I don’t hug him back, exactly. One of my arms rests awkwardly against his, and the other hangs at my side. I don’t have the energy to determine what I should do after a slip up this bad. He might quit. He spoke of relationships at that Halloween party, and how they interfere with the job. I am the job, and I’ve completely disrespected his boundaries.
“I can feel you thinking too hard,” his chest rumbles against my ear as he talks. “Relax. You’ve been through enough tonight.”
The softness of his words ends up pushing a few tears over the edge, and I’m grateful he can’t see them. Thank god I decided to wash my hair, as now it provides coverage for my tenuity.
I’m not sure how long he holds me like this, but eventually, he asks if I think I can lay down for a while, and I nod into his t-shirt. I feel my chest tighten again as I crawl into bed, and I realize that he’s sitting in one of the chairs again, letting his head fall back to at least pretend to sleep. I try my best not to let the distance bother me, but I can feel my heartbeat fighting back, climbing to regain the insane rhythm it had before.
“Um,” I clear my throat, taking another breath before I continue. “Do you think you could sleep over here?”
I feel like a child. Lost and inconsolable over something that was, for now, solved. There was no reason to worry about losing him right now. No reason to be afraid in this room. But that feeling of loss is prevalent throughout my body, and I had thought we were safe at my apartment too.
Joel’s face is unreadable, staring back at me.
“I promise not to kiss you again,” I say, making my voice as normal as possible, attempting to add some humor to it. After another moment, this does make him crack the smallest of smiles. Every muscle in my body loosens as I see him get up from the chair and make his way over to the bed.
He lays on top of the blankets, which I should have anticipated. He couldn’t be further away from me, otherwise he would be on the floor, but he still decided to lay down facing me. I give him a tiny smile.
“I know you’re like, a trained killer or something, but I don’t care. If you tell anyone about me asking that, I will actually kill you.”
He chuckles enough to shake the bed a little, and my smile grows. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
After a few moments, I whisper, “I am really sorry, Mr. Miller. I shouldn’t have touched you—”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it.” He shifts his body, angling away from me slightly.
“Okay…but if you want to report it, or change assignments, I understand.”
Joel just shakes his head, letting his eyes close for a minute. “I don’t want that, Miss Russell. I appreciate it but… no.”
“Alright. Then I promise not to touch you again without your permission.”
The corner of his mouth turns upward before he hides it with a cough.
“Likewise.”
Likewise? He didn’t even return the kiss…But it doesn't matter. He’s probably trying to make me feel better, as usual.
“Do you want me to turn off the light?” He asks.
“I’ll do it,” I say, reaching for the remote next to me. I leave on one desk lamp in the corner of the room. I don’t need any of the furniture turning into humanoid shapes in the dark.
I stare at the ceiling for several minutes. It could have been hours, but the light outside is still pitch black. I can hear Joel’s steady breathing, but I know he isn’t asleep. Every so often, I feel his eyes peering over at me. After a long while, the weight of the night destroys my defenses, and I dare to ask.
“Why would a stalker want me to become CEO?”
I feel the eyes on the side of my face again. “They’ve probably put you on a pedestal. They want to see you succeed,” he says factually. I’m silent long enough for him to continue. “Do you want to be CEO?”
“Yes,” I answer without thinking, “But most people don’t want me to be.”
The bed shifts beside me, and now Joel’s whole body is turned to face me again. “Why would you say that?”
That question, this conversation…is something I haven’t dared speak about to anyone. Not even my friends. I trust Joel with my life, but not with this. This was worth more than just my life. I turn toward him before responding. I want to be able to gauge exactly how he reacts to what I’m about to say.
“I…did something, a few months ago. I’m not sure who in Russell Corp knows. If anyone knows. But I think you were hired to watch and report, not to protect,” I take a long inhale, phrasing my words just right, “I think there are people in the company who want to make sure I keep my mouth shut. I thought you were hired to do that.”
His eyebrows crease, his brown eyes searching mine in the dim light.
“I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I nod. “It seems that way. But…I don’t trust anyone with this, Mr. Miller. No one else knows what I know. And I don’t know enough to trust your reason for being here.” It feels slightly absurd not to trust him after tonight especially. I thought someone was in my home, and I trusted Joel to take care of it. He moved without thinking. He put himself in harm’s way on a daily basis for me and the people I care about. Regardless of what he gets paid, it’s evident that he cares. But even with all of that knowledge between us both, he doesn’t look offended by my words.
“I’m from Texas.”
I stifle a laugh. “And that’s supposed to make you trustworthy?”
“You said you didn’t know enough about me. You don’t have to tell me anything now, or trust me now, for that matter. But if it would help…ask me anything you want to know.” His eyes are so sincere, his voice so gentle, that a small part of me would cry again if I let it.
“Do you have a family?” The question comes out without a filter, but I don’t care. I have wondered that before, and I would actually like to know.
“Of my own? No. My parents are gone, but I have a brother, Tommy. He lives in Texas, too.”
“Does he have a twang like you?”
It was a genuine question, but it makes him laugh. “You think I have a twang?”
“You do have a twang. It was one of the first things I noticed about you.”
It’s far too dark, and far too late, and I know I’m probably imagining things at this point. But I swear, Joel’s cheeks deepen with embarrassment.
“In that case, I suppose he does.”
“I suppose he does,” I mimic him, exaggerating his accent tenfold. Joel chuckles, shaking his head against his pillow. “What? You know I’m right.”
“I know that you’re loopy. That’s what I know. Any other questions?”
I think for a moment. “Who taught you to play guitar?”
“No one, really. I’m self-taught.”
“Ah. I should have guessed.”
“Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. You’re…utilitarian. Independent, I guess. You seem like the type to teach yourself things.”
“I thought I was the observant one,” he says with a smile.
“Not the only observant one, is what I believe I said.” I unsuccessfully stifle a yawn as I say it.
“Not the only tired one, either. You should try to get some sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” I let out a long, unrestrained yawn now, “I should let you sleep.”
He shushes me again. “Stop apologizing. Just close your eyes.”
I want to tell him not to tell me what to do. But his voice is so soothing, and listening to the sound of his breathing next to me is the most calm I’ve felt all night. Truthfully, it’s the most calm I’ve felt in weeks.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 18: One Step Forward…
word count: 3.3k
ao3 | wattpad
Joel
Temptation had come knocking on my door once again. Only this time, temptation was pounding through my defenses with a battering ram, and she was dressed in skintight red leather.
Whereas the past few days had been consumed with the guilt of withholding the second of the stalker’s gifts from her, last night had been an endless repetition of increasingly indecent thoughts. My guilty conscience was left black and blue, fighting harder and harder to keep them at bay. The fact that for a moment I had actually considered kissing her means that I had incinerated boundaries that should have been impenetrable. Gwen is supposed to be able to trust me implicitly. She had been shaking out of fear only minutes prior, and yet, when she looked up at me with those curious, playful eyes, asking me about relationships no less…
My behavior was unacceptable. I hadn’t touched her, my aching body knew that much. It took firing up every muscle in my body to pull me back from her on that balcony. But it was the want to do so and the thoughts that followed that had me cursing at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning. In the dark, there were moments where I was delusional enough to think Gwen might actually feel the same. The electric pull to be as close to her as possible. It had to stop. And that starts with telling her about the second note.
Except, Gwen had made brunch plans with her friends the following morning to recap the night. It didn’t seem right to tell her before we left, like I had planned. It seemed like a potential few hours of peace, and with the guilt I’m carrying from last night, I feel like I owe that to her. Watching her laugh, with the sun pouring into the enclosed porch of the restaurant, it feels like I’m doing it for myself, too. I want to give her this peace, and the knowledge that I also have to be the one to take it away is littering my gut with guilt. A small, more selfish part of me wonders if I have to tell her at all. But it’s been several days, and as much as she deserves peace, she also deserves honesty. If I can’t be honest about my feelings, I need to be honest about this.
As we’re leaving the restaurant, she gives her friends one last hug before smiling up at me.
“Could you do something for me?” She asks.
Anything.
“Yes, ma’am.” Her eyes flicker just as they had when I said that before, though she recovers quickly.
“Do you think we could walk home instead? I know it’s probably more stressful for you, vigilance wise, but it’s not that far.”
The sun was still on her face. Knowing that there won’t be many days in the winter that I get to see how that light changes the color of her hair, I nod instantly.
“Of course.”
Gwen leads the way, and again my chest hurts that some of her assurance has been restored. Maybe I should tell her now, and get it over with. The street isn’t too busy, but I still run the risk that her stalker is nearby, and he could gauge her reaction, or worse, get some sick satisfaction if it upsets her.
If. It’s not an if, I know it will upset her.
“You’re scowling even more than usual,” She says lightly, swinging around the purse in her hand.
“I thought I was the observant one.” I grumble.
“Not the only one,” she corrects me, gazing upwards at some of the taller buildings. “Speaking of, I’ve never seen you do the tourist stare. Have you been to New York before?”
“The tourist stare?” I scoff, “I had never been to New York before,” I look down at her, and she’s squinting to look up at me. “I pay attention to what’s important.”
“Ah,” Gwen looks at me for a moment longer before returning to her usual, glazed over expression that she uses to move through crowds. Though now, we’re only sharing the street with a few others. The Upper West is relatively quiet on a Sunday afternoon.
“Is there anywhere you’d want to visit while you’re in the city?” She asks.
I chuckle, and Gwen’s face turns incredulous. “I just—haven’t given it any thought.” We turn around the next corner, which seems to be part residential, part boutique-type stores.
“You were flown to one of the best cities in the world, and you didn’t even think of visiting The Met or something?”
“It was an assignment. I had a lot of information to learn, and I focused on that. In this line of work, you don’t have many days off. Or any room for distractions.”
“Oh,” Gwen looks as though she never considered that. After some silence, she asks, “Do you…want a day off?”
“No.” I answer it too quickly, too forcefully. “That’s not what I mean. I’m used to it is all. Looking up tourist spots just isn’t part of my job.”
She considers this, stopping on the sidewalk. “I get that. But if you ever do need a day off—”
“I don’t.” I say it quietly, but firm.
“Okay,” she mimics my tone, and I anticipate her to start walking again, but she hesitates. “Okay, I lied. I didn’t just want to walk home, I wanted to take you here,” She uses her thumb to point behind her at a small men’s clothing store.
“That’s fine. Are you picking something up?” Maybe she wanted help carrying something without missing out on the fresh air.
“No, that’s the thing. I was hoping we could take you in here and get you a few new shirts.”
“I…” I’m dumbfounded, my mouth open slightly, but not making a move to formulate a real sentence. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”
“What? No!” Her eyes grow wide and apologetic, “Not at all. I think your style suits you, actually,” Gwen looks down at her heeled boots, kicking something on the pavement that I don’t see.
“I just noticed you only have like, five shirts. And since you can’t exactly go shopping without keeping an eye on me, I figured…” She gestures back at the store.
I narrow my eyes at the window mannequins facing the street. I would expect them to be dressed in full suits with some sort of fancy, pocket square bullshit, but they weren’t. There was a leather jacket that looked worn enough that it could easily be from a Texas thrift store, and the other mannequins had on basic jeans, a sweater, and a t-shirt. Nothing about it scared me away, though everything about this made my guilt ten times worse.
“We don’t need to do that,” I say, and her face falls. She picks it right back up, flicking a stray hair out of her face.
“I should have been more clear. I’m more so giving you the illusion of choice.” Gwen turns on her heel, and heads inside the shop without another word. I tilt my head back, sighing up at the sky before following her in. Where she goes, I go. And she knows it.
The store is intimate on the inside, which makes this even more uncomfortable. There are three large racks with clothing, two dressing rooms at the far end, and a checkout counter to the right. Gwen is already in her element, chatting with the older woman behind that counter. I feel like I’ve morphed into one of the mannequins the way I’m standing by the door.
“Just some basics, you know. Maybe another pair of jeans, dark wash if you have any, some button-downs. That sort of thing.” Gwen wags her hand in the air, and the woman’s attention is drawn to me.
“I see,” The lady’s eyes scan me like I’m the newest experiment to enter her laboratory. “Is this him?”
“Yes,” Gwen grins, “Don’t be shy, Mr. Miller.”
I’d find her even more irritating if she didn’t look so damn proud of herself.
Before I know it, the lady, who’s name I learn is Julie, is measuring me. Soon after, she and Gwen are swapping opinions as they hand me a navy sweater, a light blue button-down, and a dark green t-shirt. I can’t say I hate what they pull for me, especially when Gwen holds things up to my chest to inspect. Glancing from a shirt to my eyes and my hair makes me feel more vulnerable than I have in years, but I don't mind. She’s clearly enjoying herself, which makes it easy for me to do the same.
When Julie shoves me toward the dressing room though, some of that enjoyment fades.
“I don’t think that's necessary,” I huff, even as she starts to close the curtain behind me.
“Humor us,” Julie smiles, yanking the last part of the curtain closed. The whole room is one giant mirror, and I decide it best to just put on everything at once so this will be over as soon as possible. I yank down my jeans, swapping for the new pair. To Julie’s credit, they fit well. Same with the blue button-down, but I only do up a few of the buttons before ripping the curtain open.
I run a hand through my hair, not sure what I’m supposed to announce in a situation like this.
“Oooo,” Julie coos. “That is certainly your color.”
My color? It’s the color of your commission maybe.
“What do you think, Miss Russell?” Julie asks.
Gwen has taken one of the two seats available in the shop, directly facing my dressing room. Her eyes start at my knees, gracing their way up and landing on my exposed chest just long enough for me to feel like I wanted to close the space between us.
“Did you try on the sweater?” She asks me.
I smirk as I’ve only been behind the curtain for a minute or two. “No.”
“Can you?” Gwen picks at one of her cuticles.
I start to unbutton my shirt in front of her before I remember where I am, and I quickly close the curtain. After emerging in the sweater, Gwen surveys me for a few long moments, before smiling at Julie.
“We’ll take it all.”
As Julie brings everything to the counter, I walk back over to the shop window. I can’t help but reach out and touch the jacket sitting in the sun. It would help to have something heavier like this in the coming months. Without another thought, I try it on over my regular clothes, stretching out my arms to make sure it fits as good as it feels.
I catch Gwen’s eye, and my heart nearly stops when I see her smiling.
“That looks like you,” She says.
“It’s nice and…heavy.” I’m not sure what adjectives fashionable New Yorkers use while shopping. But it does feel like a good fit.
“We’ll take that as well,” Gwen points the jacket out to Julie. This finally alerts me to what she’s trying to do, and I stalk over to the counter.
“I’m taking it. I’m the one buying it,” I reach for my wallet in the back pocket of my jeans as Julie rings it up.
“No you are not. My idea, my card.” Gwen slaps her card on the counter, clearly already prepared for battle.
Julie is unfazed by this, ringing up the shirts, jeans, and the jacket I take off and hand to her.
“The total is $1,826 today. Will that be debit or credit?”
“Credit,” Gwen and I say at the same time, though I nearly choke on the price. I’ve fixed appliances for cheaper. There ain’t no way this amount of items is worth that much.
“Can you not just be so—you for a minute and let me pay for it?” Gwen arches a brow.
I can’t handle the look in her eyes, the guilt of what still remains unsaid, and the thought of her purchasing all of this nonsense.
“If you pay, I’ll owe you several more self-defense courses. And I don’t think you want that.”
Gwen bites back a smile. “You can buy the jacket.”
Her bracelets jingle as she shoves her card in Julie’s direction, and she runs it through before I can object any further. I pay my portion, a whopping $725—definitely not a Texas thrift store price—and we’re out the door. Rodney’s car is out front, and I roll my eyes at how orchestrated this whole thing was.
“If you wanted to do this, you could have just asked.” I say as I open the door for her.
“You would have said no.”“That’s not true—”
Gwen gives me a wry look.
“Fine.” I close her door, getting in myself without another word.
The entire way home, my hands are sweating. All of the things I’ve done in this job, all the things I’ve seen, and this is what worries me? I should have told her as soon as it was delivered. I know that. But she had a hard enough time enjoying herself at the party as is. I never thought I’d see the day when I was borderline disappointed she didn’t feel like dancing with another man. Though some of those feelings are muddled—and best left unexplored—knowing about the second note would have only made that night worse for her. And that’s what I keep repeating to myself as we walk into her apartment.
Gwen has just made her way into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I wait for a moment longer before wiping my hands on my jeans one final time and I ask her, “Can I speak to you for a minute?”
She takes a long swig. “Am I in trouble?”
“No. Just—maybe we could talk in the living room.”
“Okay…” The humor has died down in her voice as she follows me to the sofas.
I crack my knuckles, unsure of how to begin.
“Look, if the clothes thing is seriously going to make you uncomfortable we can work something else out.”
“It’s not that. Uh, thank you. Miss Russell, there’s something I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. It’s something I should have told you sooner, I realize.”
I clear my throat, risking a glance at Gwen. She’s much more serious now, taking on the expression that is usually reserved for board meetings. The only difference is her eyes. They’re wider, with a strange dash of hopefulness that I’ve seen on occasion.
“Go on,” She encourages.
“You didn’t seem to be sleeping well lately. And when you mentioned the party, I felt like it would be good for you to get out and be around your people.” I pause, trying to calculate how she’s responding so far, but there’s nothing. She remains just as impassive. “Later that day, one of the receptionists said there was a package for you. I had hoped it was from someone else, but…it was from the stalker. I wanted to tell you right away, but I didn’t want to spoil the weekend for you. I just—feel like you should know.”
I try to hide how deep of a breath I take before looking up at her again. Her eyes have narrowed, and she’s sticking one fingernail into the pad of her thumb so sharply that I’d be surprised if it doesn’t break skin.
“How do you know it was him?” She asks quietly.
“The note. I thought we might have a lead now, since he used a gifting company this time…unfortunately he mailed in the cash with instructions on who to address the gift to.” At least I can give her more details than I had when it arrived, thanks to Angus.
Gwen shakes her head, looking at the coffee table between us. “What did it say?”
Even now, I don’t want to tell her. Just because she deserves to know doesn’t make it easier when I know it will scare her.
“It said…‘I’m glad to see you’ve returned. I look forward to the day when you’re on the top floor. Then I’ll always know where to find you.’”There’s a single flash of panic across her face. And then, only a moment longer, and she’s back to her usual composure.
“You should have told me.” She whispers, her tone several degrees cooler than before.
“I agree.” She looks as though she didn’t expect that response, but I can tell she’s far from done with me.
“What was the package?”
“Candy, mostly. And more white roses.”
She shakes her head again, her lips pressing together. “I have a right to know these things. To choose whether or not I put myself, or more importantly, my friends at risk by going out. Even you could’ve—” She stops herself, shaking her head once more. “I wouldn’t have gone.”
“You needed to go.”
Gwen’s laugh is riddled with irritation. “And you think you get to decide that? God, what is with you people?” She places both of her hands on either side of her face, dumbfounded.
“I don’t get to decide. I should have told you…but you also should have gone.” I say quietly, trying to determine who these other ‘people’ are.
“Withholding information so that I do what you think I should do is essentially deciding for me. That’s all everyone does. You withhold information in some weird act of self-preservation, assuming that I can’t handle it, meanwhile, someone could get hurt!” Gwen’s voice rises as she stands from the couch. Now I’m lost.
“I would never put your friends in harm’s way, Miss Russell. They were safe. We all were.”
She scoffs. “I don’t—I don’t believe you. You say you’re here for my protection, but how do I know? How do I know you’re not just reporting back to base? Keeping me out of…trouble?”
“Miss Russell…I’m not following.” I thought we were past this by now. Who would I be reporting to? I doubt her father would want to know what she’s up to all the time, and I doubt Gwen would believe it if he did. “How can I prove to you that all I care about is your safety?” Emotionally, and physically. Though I don’t think I’ve ever cared about the former this much before, and it’s taking everything in me right now not to express it.
Gwen takes a few sharp breaths, eyes searching mine. Her hurt is evident even if she doesn’t realize.
“You can’t,” She sounds defeated, turning on her heel toward the hallway. Halfway there, she stops in her tracks, facing me with a pinning stare.
“You… do not treat me like that. Not like them. You tell me when these things happen. Got it?” It was the voice of the heir to the global media conglomerate. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t the one to hire me. That tone told me that if I didn’t adhere to what she asked…Well, she might not be able to make me lose my job, but she could certainly make me regret taking it.
Gwen raises a brow at me, clearly waiting for a response.
“I’ll tell you,” I say.
All she does is sigh before leaving me alone in the living room.
I knew she would be upset, and angry, most likely. I didn’t expect the hurt I saw on her face. Or that she would rope me in with whomever else she felt didn’t respect her. And she still doesn’t believe that I’m not tracking her whereabouts and reporting them to someone else? She must mean her father, or the other board members. But why would they? And if they did hire me to do that, why would it matter? Unless they wanted to be kept apprised of where she shops, eats, and sleeps. Other than that, what could they possibly want to know?
And more importantly, why did that possibility worry her so much?
Summary: You and your best friend accidentally crash a lavish wedding in the Hamptons believing it's a networking event, and you unexpectedly fall for the charming, handsome architect and owner of the venue - who's the father of the bride.
Warning: dilf!joel, implied age gap (joel is 46), sexual tension, flirting, language, fluff (romcom vibes?), pet names, dirty talk, praise, semi-public sex (outdoor pool lounge furniture vibes), size kink? (of course joel is huge), oral (f – receiving), a little spanking, some nipple play, unprotected p in v sex, breeding kink (if you squint), wealthy!joel
A/N: This is my submission for the HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE. I was inspired by a recent trip to the Hamptons I did this summer. Sadly, I did not meet Joel Miller there. However, like reader, I was invited to somebody’s house and the Hamptons really is as fucking crazy as what you see in the movies. I enjoyed my Gossip Girl moment and then went back to my reality. It was truly sad. Everyone pray that Kiwi wins the lottery one day.
I have been brain rotting over all these summer challenges and then I swear I will wrap up with Defying Algorithms – the final chapter is coming soon!
@hellishjoel
xx
Montauk, Town of East Hampton
The summer sunbathed Montauk in a golden glow as you parked your old Honda Civic—uncomfortably close to a gleaming red Ferrari that looked like it cost more than your graduate school tuition.
“This has to be the right place for the networking event, right?” Maria said, adjusting her oversized sunglasses with confidence.
“I think,” you replied, swiping your hair over your shoulder and adjusted your dress, a simple but chic number that you had borrowed from Maria’s closet.
You both stood in front of the grand entrance to the estate, glancing at your respective invitations. Each card was embossed with an elaborate gold seal that read “Networking Gala – Columbia Master’s Program: Economics.
Maria had invited you to the Sag Harbor to stay with her boyfriend’s family for a few weeks. His family was loaded, which was a huge contrast from yours and Maria’s own humble backgrounds – but you had to admit that they were genuinely some of the kindest people you had ever met in your life. One of the reasons you took Maria up on her invite was because there was a job networking event out here this summer and you were on the fence about deciding whether to pursue a PhD in economics after graduation or try and get a job in the private sector.
Maria emphasized to you that the Hamptons was widely recognized as a playground for the affluent, attracting individuals who had substantial financial resources and significant industry influence. You knew attending an event like this would introduce you to successful people that held prominent positions in their respective fields. You hated networking because it felt so transactional and fake, but you had to admit that engaging with these individuals could open doors to job opportunities.
Once inside, the opulence struck you like a wave. Lavish floral arrangements cascaded from every corner, gold and crystal glimmered under the soft lighting, and guests floated about in beautiful gowns and tailored suits. You felt woefully out of place as you swallowed hard.
You and Maria made your way to the bar, mingling with a few guests who mentioned how stunning the bride, Sarah, had looked walking down the aisle and that they were excited about the reception.
By now, you had taken in the surroundings and figured out what this was. “Oh, Maria, we’ve got to leave. This isn’t a networking thing; it’s a wedding,”
The address on the invitation must have been wrong. Or you two were idiots and didn’t fucking know how to get around this town.
She waved her hand dismissively. “We can still stick around. Just act natural. There’s like probably 400 people at this party,” Her eyes darted around the venue, taking in the extravagant decor and probably realizing that “natural” seemed miles away. “Nobody is going to notice us, and we can still ‘network’ if we want,” she winked at you.
It was then that you realized that despite the sudden chaos of crashing a wedding, maybe it wouldn’t be a total waste of a night after all.
You and Maria exchanged determined looks, and she gestured to the food table stacked with decadent hors d'oeuvres. “Let’s grab a bite and figure out our game plan before we get swallowed up by the crowd,” she said.
So, you followed Maria to a lavish spread of shrimp cocktails, truffle arancini, lobster tacos, caprese skewers and mini beef wellingtons. As you snacked, you and Maria plotted how to blend in seamlessly, devising your cover story.
“Okay,” Maria said, scooping a shrimp with her fork. “We’ll be ‘consultants’ visiting the area. We can keep it light—just play it cool,”
You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Play it cool? We’re hardly dressed for this crowd!”
“Details,” she waved off, her confidence infectious. “Just remember, no one here knows who we are,”
As more guests started to mingle around you, the conversation began to flow effortlessly. You listened intently while exchanging opinions with Maria and laughing softly at the absurdity of it all.
You made it halfway through the reception (and made sure to avoid the bride and groom) before you were approached by a tall, handsome man with a warm smile and tousled dark hair—a perfect mix of charming and rugged, clad in tailored suit pants and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up with effortless ease.
“Can I help you ladies?” he asked, with a southern drawl that made your knees go weak. His gaze was friendly but scrutinizing.
You cleared your throat, immediately trying to channel the essence of someone who belonged. “Oh, hi,” you gave him your name. “and this is Maria. We’re friends of… Sarah…?”
The way his brows knitted together for a moment made your stomach twist.
“Sarah?” he echoed, almost suppressing a laugh right as Maria opened her big mouth.
“Yeah! You know, Sarah Miller!” She quickly gestured toward him as if he and she were old pals.
The man’s smile grew, but confusion danced in his eyes. “I’m Joel Miller, Sarah’s father.”
Your cheeks burned, and you shot a nervous glance at Maria, who looked equally flustered but was trying hard to maintain an air of nonchalance.
“Oh, wow, um, Mr. Miller! What a lovely event you have here,” you stammered. You were shocked, this man was so fucking attractive and looked far too young to have a daughter that appeared to be in her twenties.
“Joel, please. No need for formalities,” he said, flashing a disarming smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Glad to have y’all. So, how do y’all know Sarah?”
“We, uh… met at a conference… years ago,” you said, mentally kicking yourself for not preparing a more thought-out backstory.
“Ah, I see,” he responded, his eyes scanning the room as if looking for anyone who might come to your rescue. “Well, I hope you’re enjoyin’ yourselves. We always love to see new faces ‘round here.”
We?
You didn’t see a wedding ring on his left land, but you realized a man this fucking gorgeous was probably taken.
In a moment of desperation, you decided to steer the conversation. “The architecture of this home is incredible,” you said, gesturing wildly to the ornate chandeliers hanging like massive crystals in the entryway. “I mean, look at those ceilings! What year was the house built?”
Joel’s interest piqued, and a proud smile appeared on his face. “Thank you. It was originally constructed in the 1930’s. My granddaddy built it and my dad, and me and my baby brother sure put in a heap of hard work fixin’ it up in 2003. It’s a real labor of love for our family.” How old was he in 2003?
A flicker of genuine admiration crossed your face as you glanced around, taking in the intricate woodwork and lush surroundings. “You must be so proud of it. It feels like I’ve stepped back in time.”
As Joel described the nuances of the house’s restoration, you found yourself leaning slightly closer, eager to catch every word.
“You really captured its essence. I can’t believe this is a family home,” you responded, genuinely impressed. “I mean, this place could easily be in a magazine.”
“Sure, does have its charm,” he agreed, leaning slightly closer, his southern accent wrapping around each word with warmth. “And the view—you should see it at sunset. Ain’t nothin’ quite like it.”
Your heart skipped a beat as he continued to look at you with a level of intensity that made you hyper-aware of the space between you. Maria nudged you lightly with her elbow, a playful glint in her eye and subtly shifted away, leaving you and Joel alone.
As the music outside the garden area shifted into a slow, melodic tune, Joel flashed you a smile again, the kind that made your stomach flutter with excitement. He leaned in just slightly closer. “Care to dance?”
Your heart raced at the invitation. “I’d love to, but I have to warn you, my dancing is... more faux pas than finesse.” You chuckled.
“I think I can handle a lil’ faux pas,” he replied, extending his hand, and without thinking twice, you placed your palm in his. As you and Joel made your way onto the dance floor, he led you to a more spacious area where couples swayed to the music. Instinctively, you moved in close—his warmth and scent enveloping you and he pulled you into a gentle sway.
“Well now, let me get this straight,” he drawled, a smirk just dancing on his lips. “So, you and Maria just happened to waltz into my little girl’s weddin’, claimin’ y’all know her from some fancy conference? You really think I’m gonna fall for that one?”
“Oh?” you managed, trying to brush it off, though your cheeks warmed.
“You know, crashin’ a weddin’ is a bold move.” he said, his voice warm above the music.
“It’s not what it looks like,” you laughed nervously. “We didn’t mean to…”
“Hey there, darlin’, no worries at all. Ain't nobody gonna be escortin’ ya outta here… not just yet,”, he teased, leaning in closer, his lips almost ghosting against your ear as he whispered. “The truth is I’ve noticed you for the past two hours and I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you,” he said with a blush creeping up on his cheeks.
Darling.
Your heart raced, caught off guard by his words. The music played softly in the background, “Is that so?” you replied, trying to keep your composure.
“Yes,” He winked. “So, tell me bout’ yourself, sweetheart,”
Sweetheart. The endearment went straight to your pussy.
And so, you did. And then you turned the question to him. Turned out he was originally from Austin (explained his accent), lived there part-time and lived in the Upper West Side the other half of the year. He ran his family business—an architecture firm specializing in residential design from pre-war renovations in Manhattan to beach homes and vacation homes on Fire Island, Long Island, and in the Hamptons. He was single, Sarah was 25 and seemed to be his whole world.
You also explained to him how you and Maria ending up here tonight was an honest mistake and then he asked you more about your degree program.
You pulled yourself together, grateful for the chance to engage in a topic that you were passionate about. “Well, I focus on behavioral economics,” you said, and as you spoke, you noticed his eyebrows lifting in interest. “Understanding how psychological factors can influence economic decisions.”
Joel’s gaze sharpened, and a slow smile crept across his face. “Well, ain’t that a fascinatin’ area. It’s downright amazin’ how our instincts can be at odds with all that traditional economic theory.” He leaned a little closer, and you could smell the subtle hint of cologne mingled with a warm, inviting musk.
“Exactly!” you replied. “It’s like when we make choices based on emotions rather than logic. I think it’s central to crafting better policy.”
“Tell me, what are your plans after graduatin’ school?” As he asked the question, the intensity in his gaze seemed to deepen.
“I’m at a bit of a crossroads,” you admitted, your voice slightly more vulnerable than intended. “I’m considering either continuing my studies with a PhD or I’ll need to see how the job market looks after graduation. It’s... confusing.”
“It’s a tough choice, but sometimes divin’ into the real world can provide clarity,” Joel suggested, scratching his chin. “You’re young darlin’… you’ll figure it out,”
You furrowed your brows and couldn’t help but bristle ever so slightly at his implication. “Young, huh?” you echoed, trying to keep the playful sarcasm at bay while raising an eyebrow. “How young do you think I am, exactly?”
Joel chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “I’d say mid-twenties, maybe?”
A teasing smirk stretched across your face as you shook your head. “Nice try, but I’m actually a little older than that.”
His eyes widened in mock surprise. “Oh really? How much older?”
“Don’t you know it’s never polite to ask a woman her age?”
Joel's smile faltered for a brief moment, caught off guard by your playful retort, but then he chuckled, clearly amused by your confidence. “Fair enough. But you should know I’m 46,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied your reaction.
You paused, your heart racing as you processed his age. Forty-six? It felt like a leap from the realm of dating that you were accustomed to. For a brief moment, uncertainty washed over you. But he was so fucking hot, and he held himself with a certain charm and good manners that felt refreshing. And maybe it was the alcohol you had been drinking, but then you found yourself saying something that didn’t sound like you at all.
“I think you’re sexy, Joel,”
The words slipped out before you could fully process them, hanging in the air between you two. Joel’s eyes widened slightly, and you could see the surprise blend into genuine delight on his face. A slow smile spread across his lips.
As the music transitioned to something softer, Joel drew you even closer. “You know, no matter how you ended up stumblin' in here tonight, I reckon I’m real glad you did,” he said softly, his breath brushing against your cheek.
“Me too,” you whispered.
“Can I see you again after tonight?” he asked, genuinely hopeful.
“Uh, yeah, I’m still here in Sag Harbor for the next two weeks,” you stammered, but your heart leaped at the prospect. “I’d love to.”
Maria made her way back through the sea of guests, her eyes scanning the dance floor until they landed on you and Joel. You could see the brief flicker of surprise cross her features before a knowing smile took over.
“Hey!” she greeted, glancing between you two. “I thought I lost you,” She raised an eyebrow. “Time to go?” Maria asked, pulling her phone from her purse to check the time. “I mean, unless you’d prefer to stay…” She was slowly giving you that best friend look of ‘Are you trying to fuck this man?’
“One more minute,” you said, biting your lip as you faced Joel.
“It was nice to meet you, I hope I’ll see you around Mr. Miller,” Maria teased, the noted formality a jab that only made her more charming.
Joel chuckled. “It was nice to meet you as well, but I’d like to keep her round’ for a bit longer if that’s all right," he replied, his attention firmly on you. “Now, how ’bout we swap numbers before you head on out?,” he asked shyly.
As you fumbled for your phone, Maria stood just a bit away, her smile massive. You entered Joel’s number quickly, feeling a giddy rush as you took a second to glance at him, savoring the way he examined you with such attention when you then swapped to populate your number in his phone. Joel’s expression softened, and before you could think twice, he leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek.
“I think you two are better at crashin’ weddings than y’all give yourselves credit for. Just don’t let Sarah catch you—she might just put you to work servin’ drinks.” he said, his voice lowering as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.
You laughed at that, glancing over to where the bride mingled with her guests, her smile bright against the ornate background.
“I’ll call you,” Joel urged as you and Maria turned to leave.
“Okay,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the thrill of potential.
You turned back to Maria, who wore an amused expression. “So, that went well,” she teased.
“Shut up!” you laughed, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.
xx
A little over a week had passed since the wedding, and you found yourself sitting at a seaside restaurant, the sun hanging low over the horizon. It was your third date with Joel, and you couldn’t help but replay the events of the past few days in your mind: his soft laughter, engaging conversations, and charming smile that had become your recent obsession. Every encounter had been pure delight, yet with every passing moment, you found yourself wrestling with the secret anxiety of uncertainty. He still hadn’t kissed you. Maria thought it was romantic. You on the other hand were extremely horny, desperate and feeling rejected.
Tonight, you were tucked into the plush interior of his sleek Aston Martin, the luxurious leather seats enveloping you both as you pulled away from the restaurant after indulging in a decadent meal. The streets glimmered under the glow of streetlamps, and warm ocean breezes wafted through the open windows, slightly mussing your hair.
With the sunset fading and the cool air settling in, an idea flashed through your mind “How about we head to your place, and you can show me that sunset view you mentioned?” you proposed.
He looked momentarily surprised. “Uh yeah, I’d like that,” he swallowed hard, clearly still taken aback by your request but intrigued.
The drive to Joel's place felt electric, the tension in the air crackling with each mile that passed. You could sense his nervous energy, the way he stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
As you pulled into his driveway, your heart raced. “So, this is where the magic happens?” you teased, stepping out of the car and stretching your limbs. You gave him a playful wink, and he chuckled, his cheeks flushing slightly.
“Somethin’ like that,” he replied, his voice low and warm. You could see he was still caught between excitement and hesitation. He led you through the living room, before you stepped outside into the backyard that overlooked the vast expanse of water. The sunset was a splendid canvas of oranges, purples, and pinks, casting a warm glow that danced upon the waves.
“Wow,” you breathed, taking in the beauty around you as you joined him on one of the plush lounge outdoor sofas near the pool. “I can see why you love this view.”
Joel settled beside you, an unmistakable nervousness in his posture. “I thought you’d like it,” he replied, his eyes flickering to yours.
You turned to face him, leaning in slightly, eager to bridge the gap. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you.”
“I feel the same way,” Joel said, his eyes finally meeting yours.
You reached out and placed your hand softly on his knee. “So, what’s holding you back?”
His brow furrowed, confusion crossing his features. “Holdin’ me back?”
“You haven’t kissed me yet,” you said bluntly.
His eyes widened, an endearing mixture of surprise and shyness flooding into his expression. “It’s just…” he hesitated, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Just what?” you pressed gently, feeling your heart race as you neared closer, the sunset casting a dreamy veil around you both.
“If I’m honest, I’m sorta outta practice,” he drawled, as a faint blush crept up his cheeks. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric between his hands as he continued. “But I’m not tryin’ to rush you or anythin’ either,” he said finally. He offered a shy smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I wanna make sure that when I do, it’s right.”
“Then why don’t we make it right?” you asked, emboldened by the intimate setting and your growing feelings for him.
He leaned in just a fraction, his face hovering barely an inch from yours, his breath warm on your lips. His gaze flickered briefly to your mouth before returning to meet your eyes. Then, almost in an instant, his lips found yours, and you slowly slid your hands across his chest, your fingers trailing up to his shoulder blades. You brought one hand to weave through the curls at the nape of his neck, eliciting a low, contented hum from him. He tangled his fingers in your hair, crushing his lips against yours as he devoured the moan you released when his tongue met yours. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks, kissing you deeply and he sucked your lower lip into his mouth making your entire body shudder. You pulled back slightly, and realized you were both breathing heavily. He planted soft, playful kisses on your forehead, nose, cheek, your neck, and your collarbone, each kiss becoming more teasing, and it had you feeling so wet even though it was so innocent. He leaned down to kiss you again, soft and gently before pulling away.
“I’ve been waitin’ for that,” he breathed, running his nose up your jawline.
“So, does this mean you actually like me?” you giggled, playfully biting your lip.
His grin was infectious. “Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea,” he said, softly brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes stayed locked with yours as he pulled off his shirt, exposing his tan chest, broad shoulders, and defined abs. Suddenly, you realized he wasn’t shy anymore, which had you practically panting.
You licked your lips and wiggled out of your sundress, exposing a red bra that pushed up your breasts and revealed a matching red thong. A man that looked like Joel was probably used to being with women that looked like supermodels and suddenly your nerves kicked in.
As if he could sense it, his voice pulled you back to the moment. “You’re fuckin’ stunnin’ baby,”
Baby.
You helped him remove his pants and boxers and then gasped when you took in his naked frame and what was between his legs. He was huge. His cock sprung up, thick and angry with arousal. Your heart thudded out of your chest, and you chewed on your lower lip trying to imagine how he was going to fit inside of you.
You saw him smirk and you realized that your reaction was probably something he was used to. He kissed you again, burying his hands in your hair and used his body to move you so your back would hit the outdoor lounge sofa. Then his mouth started kissing down your body and he placed a tender kiss below your belly button. A whimper escaped you when you saw him look up at you as he spread your legs.
“Will you let me taste you?”
You nodded weakly.
Joel gripped your thong between his teeth and licked you through the fabric, before trailing down the panties with his teeth. He took his time, blowing his warm breath along your legs. He threw your panties on the ground and lifted your legs to place them on his shoulders and nestled between your thighs.
“Look at that pretty pussy,” he whispered, as he inhaled your scent and gently stroked your folds before slipping a finger inside of you to feel your wetness.
His hands held you open and then he flicked out his tongue between your folds and you felt yourself shut your eyes and raise your hips as you threw your head back, moaning loudly.
“So fuckin’ soft,” he hummed against you. He widened out his tongue flat, licking at you while his right hand massaged your breast over your bra. It seemed as if he was just as desperate growling into your cunt and lapping at your wetness and holding you down whenever you squirmed.
“Oh Joel,” you gasped pulling on his hair as he continued to flick his tongue in circles over and over again on your most sensitive spot.
Considering you were outside, you realized you needed to cover your mouth with your hand to keep quiet not to bring attention to his neighbors, but Joel didn’t like that one bit, and shoved your hand away.
“I wanna fuckin’ hear you,” he growled, cursing, and saying your name against your heat. “Don’t fuckin’ hide your sounds from me,”
“J-Joel,” you cried out, the burn in your belly was growing and growing and you arched your back, and your legs began to tremble as he started working on your sensitive bud and he continued to lick and suck hard on your clit as you whined and fisted your hands in his hair.
Panting, you shut your eyes tight while you felt your orgasm hit you and felt your body shake with spasms. He worked you through it and talked you through it telling you how perfect you were for him, how good you tasted, how much he was enjoying himself, and how badly he wanted you.
“That felt incredible,” you gasped, a little embarrassed since you felt like he had made you come so quickly.
He kissed the inside of your thigh, and you saw him looking smug as he saw your chest heaving wildly.
“Good,” he said grinning at you with your release on his chin and beard, wrapping his arms around your hips and kissing your stomach.
You turned him until both of your spots were reversed and Joel stretched beneath you, his hands gripping your ass as he pushed you to him so that he could kiss and nip at your throat. You rolled your hips slowly over him and his hands lifted to remove your bra and he stared wolfishly at your breasts. He ran the tips of his fingers along your nipples and his eyes got impossibly dark as he leaned forward to put one into his mouth and started sucking on it deliciously. You continued to straddle him and tightened your hands on his shoulders and teased your heat and slickness against the top of his cock.
“I have a condom in my wallet,” he gritted out painfully.
“I have an IUD,” you said softly.
Joel's eyes bore into yours, a mix of hesitation and desire swirling within them. The muscles in his jaw twitched. “You sure?” his voice low and gravelly, like he was trying to ground himself in reality.
“Please… Joel, I trust you,” you pleaded. “I want to feel you,”
A flicker of something primal ignited in his gaze, and with a swift motion, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his.
The truth was you had never had unprotected sex during casual encounters. You were religious about condoms, but there was something about him that made you feel safe. This didn’t feel casual, and you wanted to turn your brain off and let him have you.
You threw your head back and spread your legs wider to allow him to see you on display. He laid his head back against the cushion of the outdoor lounge sofa and growled at you.
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he hissed.
You finally took him slowly, inch by inch, taking a few tries to get him fully inside of you and his hands slid on your back, pushing you forward to kiss him.
He was so deep, and you could feel him touch every part of you as you stared at his face – it felt intimate. You breathed deeply as he slid deeper inside and you found his eyes bouncing from your lips to your breasts, to his cock sliding inside of you, then back to your lips. His eyes were wide with desire and his lips parted. He started pulling you back, allowing himself to be at a tighter angle inside of you as you kept your hands on his shoulders panting hard.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned as his hands returned to your ass to spank your tortured flesh and to pull your body forward roughly to urge you on but let you lead. You cried out as he gripped the top of your thighs, and your eyes clamped shut as you started to quicken the pace moving your hips to take him harder and faster.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he said through clenched teeth.
“You’re so big… so deep,” you breathed. “Please… harder,” you groaned.
“Fuck,” he muttered and then he took over rolling his hips up into your cunt over and over again having you choke down on his cock.
You pinched your eyebrows together realizing that your orgasm was slowly sneaking up on you.
“I’m close,” you whispered, feeling your nipples harden against his chest and couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips as he squeezed your ass, and you rocked your hips.
His eyes focused on your face, and he moved one of his hands down to have his thumb brushing your clit simultaneously. You screamed out in pleasure and felt your eyes rolling in the back of your head while your legs started to shake, and Joel had to use his body to keep your legs spread out.
“Eyes on me, baby. Wanna see that pretty face when you come.”
You opened your eyes and noticed that his eyes had gone impossibly dark.
“Oh fuck, oh – don’t stop,” you begged as you felt him hit a spot inside of you and you bit onto his shoulder dragging your nails along his back causing him to shudder.
“Come on my cock, give it to me” he commanded.
“Fuck… Joel,” He was pounding into you fast and hard, and you felt the moment when you came apart.
“I’m c-coming,” you moaned, and he pushed himself up to you deeper and deeper. You cried out in pleasure as your walls clenched hard on him and he watched you with his mouth wide open.
“That’s it, good girl,” he praised. “I can’t hold on much longer. Where?” He painfully spit out, and you could tell he was close with how erratic his movements were becoming.
“Inside, want to feel you,”
“You want me to come deep inside this tight little pussy?”
“Yes!” you cried out, his words making you feel crazy. You wanted him to claim you in this moment.
“Fuck, say it again. Tell me how badly you want it,” his thrusts became sloppier as he chased his own orgasm.
“I need you to come deep inside of me,” you whimpered, locking your eyes with his gorgeous brown ones.
His arms were around you, holding you so tightly that you could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. He started mumbling your name as he buried his face in your neck and came hard inside of you, spilling inside of you and coating your walls. Joel wasn’t saying much at this point, just cursing and panting as he watched the glistening mess currently at the base of his cock.
You melted in his strong arms and realized he could probably feel your own heart pounding through your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair and along his shoulders.
“That felt good,” he murmured running both his hands up your thighs and along your waist. “You’re gonna kill me,” he said dramatically.
“Not today,” you said while kissing his jaw.
He tilted his head up, smiling at you. “Let me clean you up,”
You felt sensitive when you pulled yourself off him and sighed while he kissed your forehead before laying you back down on the outdoor lounge sofa. You watched him disappear into the house as you stretched out your limbs and felt like jello. You felt utterly exhausted and sore.
He emerged minutes later with a wet washcloth and wiped the mess that was between your thighs and some that had spilled over to the sofa. As he gently cleaned you up, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. You watched him, the way his brows furrowed in concentration, and his full lips curled into that soft smile that made your heart skip a beat. A mix of warmth and uncertainty washed over you. Fuck, you liked him so much.
He then tossed the washcloth aside, rejoining you on the sofa.
“What are you thinkin’ bout?” he asked, kissing you again and sweeping his tongue across your top lip.
“Nothing,” you murmured against his lips, your voice barely above a whisper.
He propped himself on one elbow, eyes searching yours. “You’re worried,” he said softly, as if he could read your thoughts.
“Not worried… Just curious,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Curious ‘bout what?” His voice was gentle, coaxing, as if he wanted to draw you out without pushing.
You hesitated, the weight of your thoughts settling in your chest. “About this” you finally admitted, the words spilling out before you could catch them. “I mean… is this just a fling?” You bit your lip, searching his eyes for a reaction.
He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before settling into a contemplative expression. “What do you want it to be?” he asked.
You felt your heart race again, this time from the vulnerability of the moment. “I don’t know,” you said honestly.
“Well tomorrow is tomorrow,” he said, a reassuring smile replacing the seriousness. “But I don’t want to treat this like it’s just a fling.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he replied, his drawl smooth and sincere. “I like you, and wanna see you again in the city,”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “I like you too,” you finally confessed. “I just didn’t want to assume anything.”
“Silly girl,” he whispered, and your breath caught as he stroked your cheek with his fingertips, dragging them tenderly to your chin and lifting you to meet his lips for a soft kiss.
Both of you smiled through the kiss.
“Spend the night,” he asked softly. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his request and began to nestle deeper into the cushions.
“Okay,” you breathed, feeling a wave of comfort wash over you.
He shifted closer, curling his body around yours, protective and intimate. You nestled your head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent.
As you both settled back into the couch, the warmth of the evening enveloping you, you realized that whatever this was — whether a fling or something deeper — in that moment, you simply let yourself embrace the possibilities.
Tomorrow is tomorrow.
xx
So transparently there is a series/story I’ve written that has been removed from my Masterlist and some of the smut – I took inspiration/leveraged from that story, but I changed it up to make it unique for this story. I think I didn’t like how it had been written in my previous story. I’m here for all the pointers I can get on smut writing 😭
Curious if other authors have ever played with their writing this way? AKA realizing a smut scene may fit better in another fic. Anyways, ignore my rambling. Hopefully, dilf!joel hit right for y’all.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 17: Anyone
word count: 4.3k
ao3 | wattpad
Gwen
Contrary to my scheme several weeks ago, I severely wish I had had more time to find a costume for tonight. Three days just wasn’t enough time. Now I’m standing in front of a mirror, in a bodysuit two sizes too small, wishing I could cover up. If I was still hell-bent on making Joel uncomfortable, this outfit would have done it.
I originally thought my hair would be the statement, as my blonde waves had been styled to be the curliest they could manage. Which, apparently, was quite curly. Aria was beyond excited that I was working with Brissel, and she used probably half a tub of curl-defining cream. After Mateo added a red lip, they left for another booking. Now, I’m alone with what is essentially lingerie. Evelyn had sent me a judge costume to ensure I was completely covered, whereas Harper had sent over a fireman costume that consisted primarily of shiny red leather. I added tights underneath the bodysuit for some extra coverage, but if it weren’t for the miniature hat fastened atop my head, I could easily pass as some scantily-clad superhero. Especially with the added high-heeled, red leather boots. The outfit highlighted my curves so much that I considered being a judge for a moment. That is, before Harper texted me a picture of her dalmatian costume, telling me how excited she was that we were going to match. Damn her too-good-for-this-earth smile.
A few months ago, I would wear this without hesitation. I’d go with the intention tonight of getting as many likes as possible, impressing the brand with my engagement, having fun with my friends, and potentially taking another man home. And I despised, despised, the fact that now, for the first time, I’m actually nervous to walk out in front of Joel. I hike up the strapless front a little higher, and grimace when that only seems to draw attention to my chest even more.
Tonight’s about having fun, Gwen. When did you start to give a shit about what other people think?
I shake out my arms and wiggle my shoulders, shimmying away all the anxious energy on my way to the door.
Joel is waiting in the living room, just as I expected. I know he heard me coming, as the click-clacking of these shoes would guarantee, but he’s busy looking down at his phone.
I asked him earlier to wear the suit he wore to the wedding, minus the bowtie. I might have been imagining—or god forbid wishing—things, but I think there was a touch of excitement when I asked. And a small smile makes its way to my face now that he’s obliged me.
“I’m all set,” I announce, starting to make my way to the elevator.
This gets his attention, though only momentarily. Joel looks away as soon as he sees me, which quickly makes my face match my bodysuit. My heart hammers in my chest, noting how his free hand clenches into a fist.
“Alright,” He clears his throat, following behind me, eyes now on the floor.
“There’s just one more thing before we go…” I find the small package in the second hall closet, handing him the box with a smirk.
Joel rummages through the contents for a moment. “Are you giving me a uniform now?”
“It’s a costume. Badge, sunglasses, little pen that you can pretend has a flash in it. You can be one of the Men in Black.”
He pulls out the badge as if he’s dismantling a bomb.
“I’m assuming it will be a big fat no, but I toned it down just in case. This way no one will question your ever-present frown.”
Joel gives me a look, even as he fastens the badge to his lapel.
“You’ve assumed incorrectly.”
I ignore the giddy feeling moving up through my toes with a shrug. “There’s a first time for everything. Don’t forget the tie.”
Joel puts the sunglasses on next, and they sit a little too well on his smoothed hair. Secretly, I had hoped that he would style it just as he had at the wedding. The fact that he has makes it even more difficult not to stare as he puts the pen in his pocket and slings the tie around his neck. Watching his hands as he affixes it, so carefully and controlled, a thought shoots through my mind like lightning. His hands wrapping the fabric around my wrists, the sound it would make as it pulls it taut.
I drag myself over to press the elevator button, like putting space between us will somehow lessen the chances of him being a mind reader. I need to be out of telepathic earshot if that sort of thing is going to pop into my head.
After the trek to Brooklyn, made easier by Rod’s aversion to following traffic laws, we arrive at the event. Joel had told me there was no back entrance, as the club for the L'ensemble and Brissel event was quite small in comparison to some of Russell Corporation's events. There are only a handful of photographers outside, and it looks as though two of them were hired by the event organizers themselves. It offers me a little relief as I grab Joel’s offered hand, stepping out to the flashing lights. This part, I’m used to. Ironically, I was more covered in this sexed-up fireman costume than I was in my dress for the last gala. With Joel standing behind me to the left, it’s a little easier to pose as I normally would, fluffing my hair and pushing my hips to the side.
A couple of them call my name, asking for different angles. The side-eye Joel gives the one who asks for a back-shot doesn’t go unnoticed. I smile at them, giving a quick thanks, before heading inside with Joel’s hand hovering behind me as usual. Any composed, photo-ready smile turns cheesy and borderline goofy when I see a spotted pair of ears bouncing on over to me.
“You made it!” Harper squeals, wrapping me into a big hug. I find myself waiting until she lets go first.
“I missed you,” I say as quietly as I can. Her green eyes shine, squeezing my hand. I didn’t tell her about the flowers. I only said that there was a false alarm at the wedding and I’ve decided that having a bodyguard is a good idea, once and for all. I also may have embellished how much work is stressing me out. Not that it wasn’t, but having an excuse to my radio silence that wouldn’t involve scaring her was helpful.
“Hey Joel! Love the costume.” Harper smiles at him. He does his best to match her enthusiasm, and fails.
“Thank you, it’s uh, it was all her—Miss Russell.” His sunglasses sit just far enough down his nose that I can see him look over at me before looking away just as fast.
“This looks incredible!” I pivot, perking up as I take in the disco balls mixed with cobwebs and purple lighting.
“Thank you! I had zero part in it,” She beams. “Everyone else is already here. C’mon!” Harper drags me through the crowd of people, pointing out different setups along the walls of new products for people to try. “The marketing director is here, I think she’ll want to snap a few pictures of you with the products later. Especially with that hair of yours, because damn.”
“It was all Aria’s idea.”
“Was it her idea to go with my costume instead of Evelyn’s?”
I lean forward so that Joel won’t be able to hear, even though the music around is pounding. “Was it your idea to purposely size down this thing? I can hardly breathe.”
Harper radiates mischief, looking over her shoulder. “Of course not. It was Nyah’s.”
Speaking of the devil herself, she dressed the part. Complete with a sparkly black and red pitchfork.
“Give us a spin!” She points the styrofoam weapon at me, and I do as she commands even with an eyeroll.
“I hear I have you to blame for this,” I can’t help but smile at her satisfied expression.
“Well,” she bends down to my ear, “If I had known, I would have bought you a little alien number instead.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me, eyes flicking up to Joel before she gives him a small wave.
“You’re never going to give that up, are you?”
“Not until you give in. You know you want to,” Nyah practically sings.
“Gwen, hi!” Elijah saves me from the possibility of answering that rhetorical question.
“Hey Elijah,” I bring him into a hug as Landon approaches behind us.
“A firefighter? Very hot,” Landon winks. Elijah and them are dressed as…
“Detectives?” I ask, looking back and forth between their old school caps and the pipe hanging out of Landon’s mouth.
“Sherlock and Watson,” Elijah’s ecstatic smile gives Harper’s a run for her money. My heart melts seeing how Landon smiles at him, and I can’t help but return it.
“We need some drinks!” Harper declares, loud enough for some people behind us to holler back in agreement.
Two tequila sodas later, I finish up my photo op with Brissel. Ada, the marketing director, is so down-to-earth that I forget that I’m being paid to promote them. We’ve made plans to get coffee before Nyah and the rest of the group are begging me to make our way to the second floor, where the real fun begins.
They must have fit two to three hundred people in the already cramped space. The floor lights up in different hues of purple, each square combining to form a kaleidoscope. The music was even louder up here than the floor below, and dozens of people crowd toward the DJ, mimicking his hand motions. Nyah pulls us into the middle of the dance floor, with Landon and Elijah quickly making the excuse that they needed more drinks. They take our orders, but I don’t expect to see them for some time. The way they keep looking at each other… they’re probably going to find some dark corner to “investigate.”
Joel lingers close to my side, standing as straight as an arrow, eyes hidden behind his glasses.
“So they’re already at the matching couple’s costume phase, huh?” I ask the girls before Harper can spin in too many circles for her to see or hear straight.
“Apparently. Who knew Landon would be such a lover?” Nyah muses.
“Are we still allowed to be commitment-phobes?” Harper asks, “If all of you start to get into relationships I’ll be pissed.”
“I don’t fall into that category, if you recall.” Nyah flips her hair over her shoulder, making Harper laugh.
“Okay, two long-term relationships make you exempt. Gwen?”
Again, that weird twinge of embarrassment whips through my chest. Why did I wish Joel was on the other side of the room right now?
“You know the answer to that.” I try to be as vague as possible, but Harper’s eyes widen with glee.
“Thank god,” She reaches for my hand, spinning me around. That, at least, makes me laugh before I stumble backwards, Joel’s arm reaching out to steady me.
It’s not a conscious decision—to look up at him. But everything in my body pulls my eyes upward, the way tourists do after taking their first steps outside of Grand Central. Except even now, I still haven’t tired of the view.
Of New York, I mean. Obviously.
Joel doesn’t pull his eyes away, but he arches a brow, the slightest ghost of a smile on his face. “You alright?”Why does New York’s accent have to come out so strong when he asks that?
I square my shoulders, which seems to give him some idea that I want his arm to leave my back, though that isn’t the case.
“You could move a little, you know. Unless you’re just getting into character.”
Joel adjusts his tie, “Yeah. Not really my kind of music. Or dancing, for that matter.”
“I can’t imagine there is a kind of dancing you do enjoy,” I challenge, leaning forward to close some of the space between us. I can feel both Nyah and Harper’s eyes burn into the side of my face, even though they keep moving to the beat. I’ll get shit for this later, I’m sure. They’ll call it flirting, and I’ll tell them they’re reading into it too much. I have just enough alcohol in my system to not read into it at all.
“Well, maybe you just haven—”
I feel a tap on my arm as Joel stiffens beside me. Turning to my right, I come face to face, more like face to chest, with another fireman. Tall, burly, and dirty blonde. At least from what I could see poking out from underneath his hat. His hat, suspenders, and thick ‘fireproof’ pants were the bigger indications of his costume, seeing as his chest was bare.
“If this place gets any hotter, you and I will be put to work.” He smiles, exposing teeth so white I wonder if they’re veneers.
I fight the urge to cringe. I do one, quick glance over to Harper and Nyah to confirm that they were, in fact, watching this interaction the way a cat watches a laser pointer. I have to entertain him, just a little. Otherwise there will be an onslaught of questions tomorrow.
“I hope not. You aren’t exactly suited up for it,” I point to his abs. His eyes twinkle with excitement, the way all men’s do when their pickup line is well received.
“Speak for yourself!” He shouts over the music, eyeing my costume down to the boots. “That outfit may burn the place down on its own.”
In an effort to avoid him looking even longer at my breasts, I change the conversation. “I’m Gwen,” I stick out my hand, forcing him to look me back in the eye.
“Gwen? I’m Aidan.”
Aidan keeps a hold of my hand, spinning me gently so that I’m mainly facing away from him. I’m sure he intends it to be intimate, but it only makes me acutely aware of how rigid Joel has gone next to me. His sunglasses are still in place, but I know he’s watching every breath of this interaction.
“You’re absolutely beautiful,” Aidan says in my ear, as quietly as the music will allow. “I’ve been trying to come over here since you walked in.”
I twist my head to look up at him. “Thank you…”
In truth, he is very good looking. Exactly the type of distraction I would normally gravitate towards. So why am I unable to return the compliment? Why can’t I think of any sort of reply other than the basics?
“Do you live in Brooklyn?” Not my best, but at least it’s something.
Aidan starts to rock us back and forth, his hand dropping to my waist.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that this guy wouldn’t dance with you.” He ignores my question entirely. “Any guy in here would be crazy not to.”“Oh,” I let out an awkward, forced laugh, “Yeah, not everyone is up for it, I guess.”
“I am,” His hand grazes lower, down to the front of my thigh. The thin layer of my tights doesn’t feel like enough of a barrier. He pushes me against him by doing so, and I can feel the heat from his chest against my back.
All of this is normal. Swiveling my hips, hearing him hum in approval, lulling my head back to rest against him while we sway to the music.
This feeling, however, is not.
My heart is pumping almost double the speed it normally would after a few songs. The heat Aidan is giving off begins to feel stifling, and I feel a couple beads of sweat drip down my back. And there’s this weird twist in my stomach as the thought of the note flashes through my mind. It takes everything in my power not to look over at Joel who is both painfully close to us and still not close enough. I do catch Nyah’s smirk at one point, both of the girls then turning around to find their own dance partners. When they do so, it feels like the crowd around us pulls tighter inward. Like even if something were to happen right now, and Joel was close by, there would still be nowhere for us to go. Nowhere to run. And as I catch a whiff of Aidan’s cologne, I think once again of the note.
I can only wait and wonder if you smell just as sweet.
This couldn’t be him, could it?
The thought leaves me frozen, back arched against Aidan. It could be anyone. What are the odds that my stalker would be at this party? It was invite-only. Maybe he could have followed me, but getting in would be incredibly difficult. I should have asked him if he knew who I was to gauge his reaction, but that idea makes me feel nauseous. I’ve never wanted to be someone who assumed everyone knew who I was. Most of the time, I went by completely unbothered. This is probably just another guy, like any other night.
But…what if it’s not? What if it is him? What if he’s this close to my friends, and to Joel? What if I put everyone in danger just by showing up tonight?
The room feels darker, and I now feel encased by Aidan’s arm. He hasn’t even noticed I’ve stopped dancing, or if he has, he’s chosen to ignore it. The quick, rhythmic beat around us clashes with the unsteady, erratic pounding in my chest, and I start to shake my head, pulling away from Aidan. At first, he pulls back, maybe assuming it’s part of some move or something.
“I–um, I’m sorry,” I break away, facing him with an apologetic smile. His face is flushed, not even looking at mine. His eyes glaze over my body only, and I know he barely heard me. Just to my right, Joel still stands, straighter and stiffer than I’ve seen him before. Though since I’ve pulled away from Aidan, Joel has taken half a step in between us. I’m glad I can’t see what his eyes are focused on.
“C’mere,” Aidan says over the music, reaching for me again. My heart hasn’t stopped racing, and I lurch back, immediately embarrassed by my response. I can’t see any of my friends nearby as I turn to push through the crowd. When I feel a presence close behind me, panic shoots down my arms. Until the familiar scent of spice fills my senses, and I know it’s just Joel, doing his job.
I continue to push through the crowd until I see the doors to a balcony, and the promise of fresh air calls to me like a siren.
“Miss Russell,” I hear Joel’s gruff voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. “Miss Russell, slow down.”
I can’t. There isn’t enough air in here. And he’s with me anyway. Why should I slow down? I push past the last crowd of people with relative ease, almost stumbling against the railing, letting the chilly air hit my skin. I focus on the alleyway below, wondering how many breaths it will take to feel normal again.
“Miss Russell,” Joel repeats, placing only one hand on the railing to my left so he can face me instead. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing,” another deep breath, “I just needed a—moment.”
Even from the corner of my eye I can see his eyebrow crease forming. He surveys the balcony, probably trying to assess how many people can eavesdrop, before lowering his voice. “Did Aidan do something?”
I didn’t know he had been close enough to hear his name. That better be all he heard.
“What? No.” I roll my head to the side, stretching my neck. Despite all the dancing, I feel more tense than when we arrived. Thankfully, the music is quiet out here, and there’s only a handful of people mulling about.
I can feel Joel looking at me, the concern pouring in even though I refuse to engage with it. It takes several minutes for me to feel like I have enough control over myself to stop gripping the railing as tightly, and eventually I can look elsewhere besides the alley.
Even with what I can see in my periphery, I still jump, looking at Joel startled as he places his suit jacket over my shoulders.
“You’re shivering,” he says apologetically.
On some other night, several weeks ago, I would have objected before he’d even finished giving it to me. Now, I pull it tighter around myself, taking a long whiff of the comforting scent rolling off of it.
“Thank you.” I try to give him a small smile.
“What happened?” Joel asks softly.
I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”
I try to focus on the Manhattan lights in the distance, knowing that if I look at Joel as I ask this, I’ll feel far too weak. “Do you think it could be him?”
He doesn’t answer me right away, but I know he understands. He just continues to watch me, as if trying to determine if I can handle his opinion.
“It could be anyone,” his voice is gruff with honesty. “Which is a good, and bad, thing.”
“Right,” I sniffle, hoping it will stave off the thick lump forming in my throat.
“I do think it’s unlikely. He had a confidence that I wouldn’t anticipate from stalkers. Why send things to you if he has the balls to approach you in public?”
He still sounds just as honest, not that I would ever take Joel as someone who would sugarcoat anything. A virtue I very much appreciate.
“That’s a good point,” I sigh, my heart rate slowing further.
“Don’t sound too surprised.”
I finally turn towards him, his concern having sizzled, looking slightly relieved to have me make eye contact. And for the first time this evening, he doesn’t instantly look away.
“Contrary to popular belief, Miller, I do actually think you know how to do your job. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”
He tries to hide his smile by looking out at the view. “I’m the one forced to wear a costume, but I’m the pain in the ass?”
“I went easy on you! I could have made you a dalmatian with Harper.” I giggle, and he looks back at me with an unrestrained smile.
I’m not sure I’ve seen him smile like this before. He has a dimple, for christ’s sake. His entire face lights up, and it reminds me that there is a man in there that plays the guitar, and has nightmares, and always remembers to get me dinner when I forget to get it for myself.
I’m screwed.
“Are you married?”
What the fuck? Why did I ask that? I would blame the tequila, but most of my buzz has faded. Much like Joel’s smile, now that it’s been replaced with surprise.
“No.”
I want him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
Well, if he’s going to play coy.
“Do you have a significant other?” I try to phrase it correctly, remembering Nyah’s comment that he might not be into women. I suppose that’s still a possibility, but there’s a very irritating
amount of hope inside me that it isn’t true.
“No.”
I narrow my eyes. “Really? No relationship at all?”
“No.”
“That was a quick answer.”
“Relationships are complicated.”
“That was a non-committal answer.”
“What answer do you want?” He sounds exasperated now.
“The truth.”
Joel doesn’t reply right away. I realize that with each breath, we’ve been inching closer and closer to each other until we’re practically chest to chest. My breathing is back to being erratic, though for a completely different reason. For a second, Joel’s darkened eyes fall to my lips, and for a faster, almost undetectable moment, they fall to my chest. Unlike how I felt with Aidan, I didn’t want him to look away. The nearly pained expression on his face makes heat pool in my belly, before dropping lower…
Joel clears his throat, taking a step back. It’s a motion that wafts the cool air against my face, reminding me where I am.
“The truth is I can’t, really. It interferes with the job,” His voice is clipped, gaze focused on something off in the distance.
I doubt he’ll look at me again for the rest of the night.
“I see.”
This is his career, after all. Judging by his temperament alone, he wouldn’t do anything that could put that at risk. I shouldn’t push him too, either. The stress of recent events has to be the explanation of all of this. Joel may be a handsome guy, but I can handle handsome. I must just be in need of a distraction.
You left a perfectly good distraction on the dance floor, Gwen.
Maybe I had no explanation, then. Which means I also don’t have a good reason, so I need to let it go.
“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Miller.”
Joel nods, still refusing to look me in the eye. I start to unfurl myself from his jacket, but he just motions for me to start walking.
“Keep it. We have a long trip back.”
I don’t bother arguing about how quick the walk outside to the car is, or how my seat will be heated. In part, because I’m tired, but also in part because I’d like to breathe in his scent a while longer. I pull the fabric tighter around me, clinging to the thought of his eyes and scent lingering, even as I make a mental promise to let these feelings go. Eventually.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanfiction
Content warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 16: Unknown
Word count: 3k
ao3 | wattpad
Joel
I knew the townhome had a rooftop terrace, decorated and decked out with privacy bushes and comfy chairs. Still, Gwen looks at me like I’m insane when I lead us up the staircase towards it.
She doesn’t say a word though, which only adds to the worry building in my chest. At the wedding, there had been fear in her eyes, but it hadn’t reached a level of panic. One conversation with William and that fight of hers turned into flight by any means necessary. And if I couldn’t have her running off before, I certainly can’t have her running off now that a stalker has attempted to make contact.
Gwen takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs, curling her legs up to wrap her arms around them. When I take off my jacket to drape over her, she shakes her head.
“There’s blankets in the ottoman. Well, there were last time I was here.”
“When was that?”
“A little over…five years ago? I think. The night before I moved into my own place.”
“Sounds like a milestone moment.”
I tinker with the firepit next to her, and it only takes a moment to figure it out. The thing blazes up in a perfect square formation, and I almost roll my eyes. Even up here, a place that seems to be completely unused, is perfectly stocked with blankets and propane.
Taking the seat on the other side of the pit, I watch her carefully, gauging if I should push for answers on her and William’s conversation, or just talk to her until she calms down.
“A milestone moment? How old are you?” She lets out a soft laugh, and the choice is made for me.
“I’m thirty-nine.”
“I was making a joke,” she gives me a sideways glance, “But, good to know.”
I hold my palms out toward the flames, noting how her breathing is finally a little deeper.
“I’m assuming you know how old I am,” she says with her face turned toward the street below.
“I do.”
“And you probably know my blood type, my second grade teacher’s name, and exactly how I take my coffee.”
I chuckle. “You drink tea, not coffee. I know that much.”
“Observant once again, Mr. Miller. What about the other stuff?”
“I assumed it was rhetorical. But no, I don’t have information on your teachers.”
“Okay…and the blood type?”
I’m quiet long enough for her to turn to me, her plump lips agape.
“You know my blood type?”
“We shouldn’t stress you out any further, Miss Russell. It’s just in case of emergencies.”
Her face falls, and for once, I wish I had just lied.
“Just in case I’m in the hospital and I can’t speak for myself,” she says softly, factually. Understanding the need even though she might not like it.
“I can’t imagine a day when you don’t speak for yourself.” Pushing the boundary once more. But if it brings her any levity…
She smiles, and my chest doesn’t just feel lighter, it damn near cracks open.
“That may be true.” Gwen picks her feet up off the ground, tucking them to her side so she can lean back in the chair. “I know it might seem ridiculous. I’m incredibly lucky to have a cage this big. This pretty,” she gestures to the city skyline out in front of us. “But it doesn’t mean I don’t feel trapped. That place was my escape.”
“And it will be again. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her gaze lingers on my lips before she meets my gaze again. It’s as if she's weighing the sounds I’m omitting with whatever truth or deceit she might find in my eyes.
“I know you will,” she says with certainty, “I just don’t know when it will feel like mine again.”
Gwen watches the stars for a few minutes, her nose wrinkling several times from the cold. She never reached for a blanket, and I didn’t want to hand one to her. I think she may need the chilly October air to wrap around her instead, to fill her lungs and cool any amber of fear that has yet to be extinguished. She seemed to think so too, as she doesn’t so much as lean toward the fire.
“I can post more guards. Round the clock. We can put a personalized lock on your door—”Gwen shakes her head.
“Mine, Mr. Miller. I want it to feel like my own home. Not some fortress.” After a beat she adds, “But thank you.”
I nod. “In that case, allow me until Wednesday to get everything I can from the team. We can return after dinner. So you’re only caged in temporarily.”
“Two more nights in the kennel?” Gwen inhales sharply. “Deal. I can do that.”
She then eyes me almost suspiciously. “You have a bit of wit to you, you know.”
I run a hand across my jaw, hoping it will distract me from the pride blooming in my chest. “Likewise.”
- - -
No fingerprints found. No footprints, no sign of entry, forced or otherwise, not so much as a speck of dust on the windowsill. Fortunately, no bugs or cameras either. I had them sweep it three times. I’ve always been thorough, at least two sweeps. But when they’d completed the second, I had unwelcome thoughts of Gwen being filmed without her knowledge: asleep in her bed, making breakfast, showering…
Three sweeps felt like the bare minimum after that.
Gwen was disappointed they didn’t find anything, though she tried to stay as emotionless as she has been since that conversation with her father. I really tried not to eavesdrop, but I wasn’t comfortable being so far away that I couldn’t hear anything at all. I heard him say that he was involved in my hiring. Not a surprise, really. But I was surprised he said it to her the way he did, like she would never guess he would care about such a thing as her safety. Honestly though, why would she? If he keeps people in the company that have made her uncomfortable. Selfishly, I still want to get to the bottom of those stories. And then there was him calling her naive. I find it hard to believe that William actually thinks that. No one with a tongue as sharp as Gwen’s could be anything close naive.
Not that I’ve heard much of it lately.
The apartment has been quiet since we’ve returned. I brought up adding extra guards only one more time, and I was met with a stare so lethal she could contract it to the military.
I know work has been busy. She’s been staying behind to meet with Julian almost every night. Last weekend, I could hear her on the phone, laughing a little too much for it to be a work call. That alleviated some of my worry, but I still hear her pace at night. And the following morning, I can always tell she hasn’t slept well. Better than at her father’s house, but not well.
That’s why, when she calls me into her office with an apprehensive expression, I tense up, afraid there’s been another threat to her safety. She plays with the large emerald ring on her finger a little too long for my liking, adding to the suspense.
“Firstly, I know you’re going to say no. So, I want to let you know I’ve already made up my mind.” She waits for me to interject, but I just fold my hands in front of me. This should be good.
“There’s this opportunity that’s come up. Harper’s parents own L’ensemble, it’s a cosmetic company. I mean it's been the cosmetic company for several decades. You might have heard of it?”
I shake my head. “Only when I gathered info on your friends.”
“Right. Gross. Anyway, they’re good friends with this hair care brand, Brissel, and they’re throwing a joint Halloween party to launch their new products, respectively. Harper said that they’ve heard of me, and I checked my messages and they’ve tried to put together a brand deal for some time. They want to sponsor my attendance to the party, and that could lead to some other deals.”
“So… you want to go to this party?”
“Yes. I mean, I’d probably be going anyway just for Harper and her parents but if it weren’t for the brand opportunity, I might have reconsidered in light of recent events. Thanks to my secret admirer, of course.” She flutters her lashes, making light of what I know keeps her awake at three a.m.
“Are your other friends going?”
Gwen furrows her brow. “I think so.”
“Well, that sounds good. When is it?”
Her features remain the same, apart from her eyes going slightly wide with surprise.
“Saturday night.”
“Alright. Send me the details. The location, time, and guestlist if you can get it from Ms. Bryne.”
Of course it made me nervous. But mentally…I think she needs to do what she would normally do. She needed to see her friends, let loose, and forget about everything else for a bit. Plus, that was the most information she’s ever given me about an event, and she was willing to give me even more.
“That’s it? No foreboding comment?” Her tone carries enough humor for me to keep my defenses down.
“Would you like a foreboding comment?”
Her lips press into a hard line, attempting to conceal a smirk. “Touché. I’ll send you the details later.”
“Great.”
The good thing about an invite-only event is that if anything shady happens, the list of suspects is practically drawn up for us. Though I would like to find more information on the eerie floral delivery, I still hope this goes off without a hitch. She deserves that after the wedding, the delivery, and her father’s harsh words. I probably shouldn’t have thought of how deserving Gwen was of a break, because it seems that the thought of that alone stirred up something foul and mocking in the universe.
It’s almost the end of the day when it arrives.
As if on cue, knowing that our peace was limited.
The front desk must have phoned our floor, because one of the receptionists, Kiera, I believe, is walking toward me with a gift basket. My heart sinks, and shockingly, I actually hope it’s from Theo.
“Hi, Joel.” Kiera smiles, her blond bob swaying back to back as she approaches. “I just have a package here for Miss Russell.”
She takes a step toward her door, but I reach for the handle first, blocking her.
“She’s in a meeting. But I’ll be sure to give it to her afterwards.” It’s only a marginal lie. I have no idea what Gwen is doing in her office right now.
“Don’t steal any of the candy,” She winks as I take the black box from her.
“Uh, Kiera?” She swivels back around quickly. “Did you see who dropped this off by any chance?” I mentally cross my fingers that the question doesn’t raise her suspicion too much. Luckily, she seems unfazed.
“No. The mail guy just brings up whatever he has for us from the front desk. Do you want me to call them? I could ask.”
Looking down at the box, it could be from anyone. I haven’t read the card yet, and even if it isn’t from the stalker, and I make a scene now, I don’t know who that information could get out to. Depending on what the other employees gossip about, they could start rumors about an overprotective security team, frightened that someone got past their defenses. This could give the freak more confidence in trying something new. Or, if the rumor is spread that the security team is sniffing out everything coming in contact with Gwen, he might take further precautions to remain as anonymous as possible. If I have any hopes of catching this guy, the last thing I want to do is spook him further into the shadows.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. Just curious.”Kiera smiles once more before turning back down the hallway.Gwen and I hadn’t discussed if I should be screening her packages. I never actually asked for permission, and it technically wasn’t outlined in my contract. The loophole being that I was obligated to do whatever I needed to in order to ensure her safety, and this certainly fell into that category.
At first glance, the box, tied with a white satin ribbon and magnetic closure, looks expensive. I’m not a profiler, or a luxury expert for that matter, but anyone who sent this either has money to spare or they shelled out their entire paycheck for it. With a quick look on either side of the hallway, confirming I’m still alone, I untie the ribbon, opening the front carefully, away from my face. Nothing springs out, nothing even smells dangerous. There’s an assortment of chocolate covered fruit, nuts, and the outer perimeter of the box is lined with clipped white roses.
It could be a coincidence.
The note that lays on top had some logo on it that offered a bit of relief. The flowers left in her apartment had no indication that someone ordered them from a company. I flip the card over and unlike the last note, this one is typed. However, a chill runs down my spine just the same.
I’m glad to see you’ve returned. I look forward to the day when you’re on the top floor. Then I’ll always know where to find you.
Fucking prick.
Of course this would arrive as soon as Gwen showed signs of feeling comfortable again. As soon as she wanted to go back out into the world that she loves instead of staying in every night, barely making it to the living room, much less upstairs to the gym. I look at the mahogany door in front of me as if I’m looking at her worried blue eyes, and I know right there and then I’m not telling her. Not yet. There’s only a couple more days until that party. I don’t see the point in scaring her further, though she continues to try and hide it. I might have, several weeks ago, to keep her from running off. But that doesn’t feel like a possibility now. The way she’s been acting…I want her to have one night of freedom.
When I order Gwen her dinner, I place the gift box inside of the paper bag it comes in so she won’t see it as we walk out. As usual, she’s just surprised that I got her anything, even though this is almost a regular occurrence now. She’s often one of the last one’s here, and I’m convinced she would forget to eat if I didn’t remind her.
Back home, she goes to the bathroom to shower, and I text Amari to have one of his team members pick up the box tomorrow for fingerprints. I’m skeptical that there will be any results besides mine, Kiera’s, and whoever put the box together at the gift company. In that respect, the stalker was smart to skip out on the DIY project. Hopefully there will be a credit card to trace it back to at the very least.
I take a picture of the note, filing it away in a private folder when my phone rings. I sigh before answering. Not the best mood he could’ve caught me in.
“Hey, Tommy.”
“Joel! How the hell are ya?” Three, if not four beers deep. I’m sure of it.
“I’m alright.”
“Yeah? Is that why I haven’t heard a peep from you? I thought workin’ in the states meant you’d be able to keep in touch.”
“There’s been a lot to catch up on. This job has been more…complicated than I thought. How’s business?”
“Oh, it’s good. Same old. I just wanted to call and see what your flight plan was.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your two months! I expected to hear from you like two weeks ago.”
Shit. I was focused on Gwen’s bout of apathy that I completely forgot about the deal I had made with him.
“About that, Tommy, I’m going to stay a little bit longer than expected.”
He starts laughing, and for a moment, I’m on his porch back in Texas.
“I thought so,” he continues to chuckle.
My face heats, images of Gwen’s smile flashing in my mind. “Why’d you think that?”
“I was right! About the money. You took a look at your account, at that chunk of change, and you’re thinking, hm, maybe a little bit longer.”
The relief I feel is immediate, as if Tommy could have ever guessed my true concerns. Any other reasons that I might not be ready to leave. I wouldn’t consider them now, but her safety, on one account, isn’t something I’m ready to hang in the balance. As for the balance of my bank account…I haven’t looked at it in over a month.
“Right. Yeah, the money’s good.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and some additional chatter makes me think he’s outside of a bar or something. “You’re alright though?” Tommy lowers his voice, “They’re treating you well? You’re not uh…You’re okay?”
I knew what he meant. But I could hear the shower turn off next door to my room, and even if it hadn’t, I didn’t want to talk about that night. Not ever.
“I’m fine. Just been busy is all. It’s twenty-four-seven, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah. I figured. Wanted to check in… I still want to hear that I was right though.”
I let out a chuckle. “About what?”
“That two months wasn’t enough!”
I can hear Gwen lightly humming as she exits the bathroom, and that same strange tug is pulling at my chest again, mixed with relief. I didn’t like keeping the box from her, but I know I wouldn’t have heard that sound tonight if I had shown her. And however selfish it may be, that sound eased something inside me. Knowing that maybe she felt a little better today. Hoping that I made a contribution, however small, to aiding in her peace of mind.
“You’re right,” I sigh, “Two months wasn’t nearly enough.”
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanficiton
Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 15: Breathe
word count: 3.4k
Gwen
I would never admit it to anyone who would bother to ask, but I barely slept last night. It’s bad enough to be back in my father’s house, across the hallway from my mom’s music room that hardly anyone ever visits. Surrounded by memories so fond that they make me physically ill. And now, these walls feel even tighter. I spent almost the entire night scrolling through my comment section on every platform I’ve ever been a part of, trying to find someone who wrote something similar to the note. Remembering to grab my mom’s sweater out of my closet last night was a small comfort at least. I kept it tucked under my arm like a child with a blanket while I scrolled. It’s useless, of course. You can’t gather someone’s voice from four sentences or one comment on one photo. But, logic loses the battle all night, and I kept scrolling anyway.
I still had on my blouse from yesterday which was now more wrinkled than all of the executive board members combined. At least I thought to slip out of my slacks before climbing into bed. Waking up here felt like a time capsule nightmare, like finally leaving was the dream, and I woke up eternally trapped in this cold house. I want to leave for the office as soon as possible.
After a very quick shower, there seems to be no amount of makeup that will cover my under eye bags. I choose to leave it as is, my physical avowal of fear still peaking through two layers of concealer. I just hope no one I interact with at the office knows anything about last night.
I put my mom’s sweater back in the bag I brought with me last night, along with the photo album from my closet. I decide to hide it under a throw blanket while I’m gone. If anyone comes in here today, it will probably just be one of the housekeepers, but I don’t even want them to see it.
I grab my jacket, taking as deep of a breath as possible before opening the door.
As I step out, my foot gets caught on something, and I tumble forward into the hallway.
“Shit,” I gasp, putting my hands out in front of me to brace for impact. By some divine grace, I’m able to press against the other side of the wall quick enough to balance myself. It might not be lithe, but it beats falling head first onto the floor.
“AH,” a loud grumble sounds from the doorway.
“Mr. Miller?” I glance back at him, stepping over his curled up form so I’m not two degrees away from doing downward dog anymore. “What are you doing on the floor?”
It only takes a second longer for me to put two and two together. His jacket is rolled up by his head as a make-shift pillow, and his eyes are the sleepiest I’ve ever seen them. I can imagine how peaceful he’d been only a minute ago, and I wonder if that line between his eyes softens in sleep. It’s certainly pretty deep now that he’s been stepped on.
“I thought,” he clears his throat, “I thought you might feel better if I were out here.”
“Oh,” I exhale, feeling something tighten in my throat. I steady myself against the wall as he sits up. “I thought I told you not to worry about my feelings.” I mean it to come out strong and authoritative, but if anything, it sounds like a meek reminder.
Joel runs his hands through his hair, clearly trying to rouse the sleepiness off of himself. It makes me remember his hair for the wedding, slicked back and styled, and how good his shampoo smelled in that closet…
“Fine. Then I guess I thought this runner looked comfortable.” Joel is grumpy in the morning. Noted. And…I don’t totally hate it. Also noted.
“I could have brought you a pillow if you told me.”
“You would have told me not to sleep here.”
He’s right, I would have told him to get lost and stay in one of the guest rooms. But I wouldn’t have meant it. Not that I want to see him on the floor. I’m not sure how old he is, but that can’t be good for any spine above thirty years old. Still, it does make me feel a bit more…comfortable, knowing he was outside.
“Well, hopefully it’s not for long. Did you find out anything new?”
“I texted with Amari last night. I’m going to speak with Teddy today and review the camera footage. Phillip and Silas will stay here with you for the day so—”
“The day? I’m going to work. I’ll go with you to meet with Teddy, too.” The thought of him leaving me with two of my father’s security guards fills me with dread. But I don’t have time to examine that now.
Joel eyes me carefully, one forearm resting on top of his knee. “Are you sure about that? It’s likely whoever left you the flowers is watching the place. They may see you, or you might not like what we see on the footage.”
One thing I appreciate about Joel? He says things like that without being condescending. I get the sense that he genuinely wants me to pace myself, not that he thinks I’m incapable. He’s just…protecting. Doing his job.
“I’m sure. When are you going to see Teddy?”
He glances down at his old watch. “Eight. So we’d have to leave soon. If you want to get something to eat first I can–”
“Perfect. We’ll go to the office afterwards.”
“Alright.” His tone doesn’t sound alright, but I ignore it.
“Feel free to use the bathroom down the hall. I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
I trot off before he can give me another disapproving nod.
- - -
I’ve known Teddy for years, and the last time he was this nervous to talk to me was when a designer sent me a PR package and it was given to one of my neighbors by mistake.
And I don’t think Joel’s demeanor is helping the situation.
Both palms spread out wide across the counter in the lobby, looming over Teddy like he’s being cross-examined. I peer around him to address Teddy directly.
“You don’t remember anyone handing you flowers over the weekend?”
Teddy glances up at Joel as if he’ll need permission from him to speak to me.
“I got about three deliveries this weekend. None of them were for you, Miss Russell.”
“It was a pretty large bouquet. I think I would remember someone bringing in a vase that large of purely white roses, wouldn’t you?”
“Easy, Mr. Miller,” I pat his arm, shoving him a little so that I can actually stand next to him instead of using him as a shield from the world's most unassuming doorman.
“Do you remember anyone you don’t recognize?” I ask.
“Several people. Everyone has guests, madam.”
“Was anyone wearing a service uniform? Anyone who looked particularly lost?” Joel’s voice has softened, if only a little.
“No, no, I mean, not that I remember.” Teddy looks back and forth between us before pointing at the computer screen. “I have the footage. One of the guys last night asked me to retrieve it.”
“Let’s see it,” the gravel in Joel’s voice makes me want to lean against him, to abate it somehow. Instead, I take another step to my right.
Teddy lets us around the counter, and the three of us hover over the screen, watching a grainy video of the lobby. It starts at midnight, and even sped up to the highest speed, five minutes of watching this feels like five hours of nothing. There’s a couple of neighbors I’ve seen before, delivery drivers that drop their packages at the desk and leave. We pause a few times on the boxes, just to see if there is anything resembling a florist box, but there isn’t. Even if there was, it doesn’t explain how they ended up in my apartment.
Joel takes note of any of the visitors Teddy doesn’t recognize, leaving him with his email to send the footage to.
“Thank you,” He huffs, maneuvering out from behind the counter and waiting for me to follow.
I place my hand on top of Teddy’s, smiling at him as best I can after the letdown. “This isn’t your fault, Teddy. Thank you.”
Teddy nods, returning my smile, but obviously a little shaken up. If the PR package mishap made him anxious, this must be on another level.
Joel is ten times worse making our way to the car than he’s been in the past. His left arm is hovering near my lower back, his right one outstretched as if to push away nonexistent fanatics.
Once we’re back in the car with Rod, he turns around to address me.
“You believe him?”
I scoff, “Of course I believe him. Teddy’s only vice is neurosis. He takes his job seriously, and he’s always been…discreet about things. Do you really think, even if he wanted to, that he could get up to my floor?”
“No. But we don’t know him.”
“I’ve known him for at least five years.”
“You don’t know him, Miss Russell. Not really. I’m not saying we need to persecute him, we just need to be careful.” He faces frontwards as if that settles the conversation in any way.
“I’m not saying I trust him, Mr. Miller. But you’re missing the fact that we didn’t see him leave his post except to use the bathroom the entire day. What is he going to do? Give someone a key he doesn’t even have?”
I know I shouldn’t be arguing with someone who slept in the hallway to ensure my safety. There’s just something about his specific robotic-ness today that is boiling my blood. I didn’t like the way it made me feel when he shielded me like that, all tingling and wanting to return the favor to some degree. It was foreign. Something I’d never experienced with anyone on Amari’s team. I don’t want to be driven to the point of distraction from his voice alone. It wasn’t just a foreign feeling, it was a pathetic one.
Joel clenches his fist around his armrest—another image I’m going to have to push from my mind later-–and sighs. “Let’s just get through the rest of today.”
He’s just angry because he knows that I’m right.
Once in the office, the radio floor is buzzing. Same as when we had been making our way to the car, Joel is even closer to me than usual. I don’t think he’s as excited by the hectic floor as I am. I go to Paul's office straight away, knuckles rapping quickly on the door before entering to see his startled face.
“Gwen,” he gives me a once-over, “Uh, I’m surprised to see you.”
“Hey, Paul. I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. I’m sure Julian will know but you’re connected to entertainment as well and—”
“No, no,” Paul lowers his voice to a whisper, “I didn’t think you’d be in today. After, you know, what happened.”
I give him a quizzical look. Maybe he means the scare at the wedding? How could he already know about—
“The flowers,” he whispers again. “The stalker breaking in.”
“Oh,” I blink, taking a millisecond to recover before giving him a forced smile, “Well, I can’t let them determine my day. How did you hear? That’s not what the excitement is about, is it?”
“Cyrus told me. And no, RenCo Radio in London acquired the rights to exclusive Wimbledon coverage. If they can get their football next, it means we will have a chance to trump ESPN here. Everyone is working their tail off to be ready for it.”
My smile suddenly turns genuine.
“We’ll have leverage for exclusivity over American football if the UK office pulls this off.”
“Precisely. And if we have the rights for the radio coverage, we’re one step closer to a full entertainment package. TV, podcast, radio, digital media. It would be huge.”
I don’t care much for sports, but this could blow one of our biggest competitors in that sector out of the water. And it couldn’t have come at a better time, now needing distraction more than ever.
“That’s good news. I’m assuming Julian will have an attack plan?”
“Most likely, or he’ll need you to help create it.”
The idea of a legitimately important task almost makes me feel back to normal. Real work, a real goal. One that doesn’t make me feel like I’m still an intern, or just my father’s daughter in the other room with a babysitter.
“Great. Thanks, Paul.”
I almost bump into Joel when I turn around, having forgotten that he was waiting in the doorway this time, and not in the hallway. When I get to my office, he still hovers a few feet inside.
“Mr. Miller, I don’t think anyone can get to me in here.”
His big brown eyes take in the entirety of the room in one sweep. “I’ll be outside, then.” Still he lingers, watching my face so carefully I want to hide behind my monitor.
“I know,” I say, opening up my laptop like a room divider. I pretend to be looking up something important until I hear the door click behind him. After getting my heartbeat back down to a normal pace, I message Julian so we can prepare our attack.
- - -
I forgot to eat dinner until Joel walked in with a sandwich from the cafeteria downstairs. I probably didn’t thank him as much as I should have, because there’s no way I would have had the energy to stay here until nine if he hadn’t done that. When I’m finally done, I can’t help but shift around uncomfortably in the car on the way to my dad’s. It’s a large house, I know that. But every minute spent there it feels smaller and smaller until there’s no room to come up for air. I did have a bone to pick with him though, and after that, I want out. I don’t see the point of laying awake in that bed all night long again.
“I’ll meet you upstairs. I want to talk to my father for a minute.” I tell Joel once we’re inside.
Joel hesitates. “I’ll wait for you at the end of the hall.”
I suppose that’s as good as I’ll get from him.
I find my father exactly where I expect him to be, in his office, surrounded by documents and three computer screens.
“Hi, Dad.” I take a seat across from his desk before he can shoo me away.
“Guinevere. How are you…holding up?” He doesn’t look up from his computer, but I’m still surprised he asks.
“Fine. But that’s actually why I came to see you. I need you not to tell anyone about the flowers or the stalker or anything else. We can’t risk news like that getting out.”
This gets him to meet my eyeline. “I didn’t tell anyone. Amari told me once he heard from your guard. They brought me to the office while they searched the place.”
Oh. Would Amari have told Cyrus?
“Well, some people on the board know. Just try to keep a low profile on this one, okay?”
He chuckles. “You’re going to lecture me on keeping a low profile? In what world?”
“The world where I hold our company together by entertaining, or better yet, distracting the news cycle when the time calls for it.”
His eyes narrow, trying to find meaning in between my words. “It’s certainly distracting.”
“This isn’t one of those times. I don’t need anyone else drawing attention to it.”
“Fair enough. I’ll continue not to tell anyone.”
I sigh. Honestly, I don’t believe that he didn’t tell the board. He would say it in passing, I’m sure. I wonder if he looked up from his work when he knew I had a stalker, or if he asked Amari if I was safe this past weekend.
“Did you know I was okay?” The question comes out before I can screen it.
“Excuse me?”
“This weekend, when I was hiding in a closet. Or last night, when I came here and you were gone, after my apartment had been searched for an intruder. Did you know? Did you even care?”
In completely uncharacteristic fashion, my father’s face grows red. His fist squeezes tightly together on top of the desk.
“Of course I did. How can you even ask that?” He hisses.
“Because how would I have known?”
His breathing is coming in shallow, and beyond the obvious anger, the closest thing I’ll ever see to hurt flashes in his eyes.
“Do you think it was only Arthur who suggested the need for your own personal security? You would have resisted any of it. But I had a better shot if Arthur delivered the news, if you thought it was entirely his idea,” He gauges my reaction, and I do my best not to show any of the surprise I’m feeling. “You always seem to have a soft spot for him that never makes an appearance for me. If you think I'm really that cold, then you’re more naive than I thought you were.”
I feel a lump form in my throat. Surely the lack of sleep is making this feel worse than it really is. But of course I think he’s cold. He’s been cold for over ten years. Though I had no idea he had a significant part in recruiting Joel, or that he noticed my affection for Arthur. I need to get out of here before this lump leads to anything more visible.
So I get up to leave, turning only to say, “I asked about you. As soon as I was taken away, I asked about you.”
I close the door behind me, inhaling through my nose in an attempt to push back any prickling I feel behind my eyes. Joel is watching me from the middle of the hallway, not the end of it. How much did he hear?
I clear my throat as I approach him. “I’m going to bed.”
His typically stoney eyes are soft, which immediately puts me in an even worse mood. He heard something, that’s for sure. Either that or he’s just come to pity me at all times since the flowers.
I make a beeline for the foyer, Joel’s expression turning from confused to alarmed.
“Miss Russell, I thought you were going to bed.”
“I am. We’re going back to my apartment.” I’m nearly jogging toward the door now, as fast as my heels allow.
Joel’s hand wraps completely around my forearm, the force of it spinning me so that I crash against his chest.
“Um, excuse me?” he’s holding my arm to his chest, the only barrier keeping us from being entirely pressed up against each other.
“I can’t allow that.”
“Allow? You don’t allow me to do anything!” I meant that he doesn’t have the right to do so, but it ends up sounding like he has total control over me, and only gives me a short leash. It’s his fault, since at this moment he does have total control. Of my body, at least.
“We haven’t even gotten the prints back yet. It’s dangerous. You can go upstairs, relax, take—”
“You don’t understand,” my voice cracks, and all I know is that, “I cannot be here. I can’t. I need to get out, I need…”
Joel’s thumb traces slow circles on my forearm, bringing it back down to my side. Then, both of his large hands grip both of my shoulders, continuing the circular motions.
“Breathe.” He commands. I do as he says, closing my eyes for a moment before he continues. “You are not trapped. I’m just asking you to wait for a minute. Just pause. We can figure it out.”
I look away from his face, suddenly very aware that we’re in the foyer, and any of the staff could walk by and witness my meltdown. The thought of it only makes my heart pound more, and my palms start to sweat.
“Hey,” Joel says in that same quietly dominant tone, “Can you do that for me? Just pause?”
Looking into his eyes for another moment, I nod slowly.
“Good,” he releases me just as cautiously, not taking a single step back. “We don’t have to stay the whole night. Let’s just go upstairs and figure out our next move.”
And for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, I let Joel lead the way.
Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller AU Fanficiton
Content Warning 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.
Chapter 14: Delivery
word count: 4.5k
Joel
My arm wraps around Gwen’s waist before one of the older women is finished screaming. If I had been given different orders, I might have thought of grabbing Daniel as well. But I’ve been assigned one client, I’m only focused on her.
And right now, I need to get Gwen to safety as fast as possible.
“It’s me,” I murmur, noticing how startled she is underneath my touch. “We’re going to get you safe.”
Shockingly, she doesn’t say anything.
With my hand firmly grasped around her waist, I quickly guide her near the back entrance of the ballroom. Several people are now crouched down, with hushed concern and mild panic spanning throughout the room. Right as we are about to leave, I glance back to ensure that Amari has taken William away. It’s almost impossible to tell in this lightning, but his table is empty, and near the far end entrance to the ballroom, I can see Amari’s tall frame pushing William outside.
Hastily running through the blueprints in my mind, I know we’re too far away from the restroom. It’s likely where Amari has taken William. Returning to Gwen’s room would require going outside to change buildings, and it sounded like that’s where the shot came from. Plus, being on level two of a building made it even more difficult to escape.
Another bang sounds out front.
Gwen shudders under my palm, and my chest constricts.
Now. I need to get her out of sight now.
I open up the linen closet near the staircase and escort her inside.
“What are we…?” Gwen asks quietly, watching as I push one of the metal shelving units in front of the door. I create a barricade with the second, and stand with my back to the door, facing Gwen who is leaning at least half her weight against the wall. I turn up the brightness on my phone, not wanting the full blast of the flashlight. I inspect her quickly, telling myself I would know if she had been hurt by now.
“Are you hurt?” I ask anyway.
She just shakes her head, staring at the shelving unit behind me. Her breathing is quick and shallow, arms wrapped around herself. Without thinking, I catch her chin in between my thumb and my forefinger, forcing her to look me in the eye.
“Miss Russell,” I say, more gently now, “Are you alright?”
“My dad,” she breathes, “Is he—”
“I saw Amari take him outside. They’ll be fine.”
She nods, her eyes wide and boring into mine.
“Are you cold?”
She shakes her head, but I can see her shoulders shake with it. I let go of her chin, removing my jacket and draping it over her shoulders.
“Thank you.” Even in her panic, I can tell how much it wounds her to thank me. To accept the help, or the comfort.
“Stubborn,” I mumble, texting Amari to see if he has any information.
“You’re…going to insult me now?” Her voice is plain, but the fight is still there. Good.
“Just making an observation is all.
“You picked a fabulous time to do so.”
I turn toward the door so she can’t see my smirk. My heart rate slows back to its normal pace. If this was the worst case scenario, we would already know. The sounds came from outside, and I didn’t see or hear anything that would indicate forced entry to the closed party. And frankly, there would have been more chaos if anyone had been injured. We would surely hear it even from the closet.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?” Gwen shifts on her toes, stumbling a bit.
“I’m not sure. Maybe you should sit down,” I grab one of the towels off the shelves, reaching across the small space between us to lay it on the ground.
She shakes her head. “If we have to run, I should stay up.”
Again, that funny feeling pulls at my chest. “We won’t have to run. We would know by now if it was an attack.”
Gwen gauges my expression for a moment before curling one leg behind her and lowering herself onto the towel. I take a seat as well, hoping it will calm her. Sitting criss-crossed, our knees are mere inches apart. I try to push back against the shelves to give her as much space as possible, but when I do, Gwen stretches her leg out a bit. I’m not even sure she knows she's doing it. I stop trying to pull back.
My phone lights up again, a text from Amari.
“What is it?” She whispers.
“The neighbor to the property was skeet shooting. Shot a power line, and then the transformer blew. Explains the second noise we heard. Amari’s team is doing a sweep but we can leave in a few minutes when he gives me the all-clear.”
Every visible part of Gwen relaxes, closing her eyes as her head drops back to rest against the wall. “Who in the fuck goes skeet shooting at night?”
I chuckle lightly. “Rich people? People who can?”
She opens one eye to peer at me. “I resent that.”
I put my palms up to her in surrender. At first I think she’s looking at them, but then I realize she’s staring at my neck.
“Bowtie?” she asks, almost to herself.
“It’s traditional.” I’m not sure if it was a rhetorical question or not.
“You do strike me as traditional. Still, I didn’t expect it.”
“You’re not the only one who’s full of surprises then.”
Gwen quirks her head to the side. “I’m full of surprises?”
I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have said ‘rich people’ either. I shouldn’t be admiring how one of her golden curls is resting on the side of her face. I certainly shouldn’t feel the need to reach out and tuck it behind her ear—
I clear my throat. “You surprised me last night. Sneaking out of your room.”
I didn’t say it to ambush her, especially now. I just needed a distraction from everything about her that did surprise me. Even still, I can’t deny that it gives me a small gleam of satisfaction to watch her pretty mouth part, realization donning on her face.
“You knew? I mean—how?”
“Almost every time you return home, you shower before you do anything else. I didn’t hear the shower, and I could hear the news on full blast.”
Gwen scoffs, “So?”
“So you hate the news. You always ask Rodney to change it if he has it on the radio. And at home, you change the channel immediately if it’s on.”
Her dumbfounded expression does not waiver. “Are you a behaviorist or something?”
“No. I just notice things. Sometimes those things are helpful.”
“You’re doing it again, the damn riddles,” She rests her forehead in her hands, “Why didn’t you follow me? Call me out on it?”
I clench my jaw, readjusting my watch, suddenly very intrigued by its leather clasp. After the silence, she lifts her head again to examine me.
“Oh my god. You followed me.”
“I was doing my job.”
“How did—I mean, the whole time?”
I nod.
“Oh my god. Where were you?”
“Usually the next room over. Once you went into the grotto I just waited next door. But when I saw Cyrus go in, I went outside to make sure I could still see you.”
“You were outside? In the trees? Like Bigfoot? Or a skin-walker?”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but we don’t know everyone here and even Cyrus going in, I just wanted to ensure…I was just doing my job. I still gave you your privacy.”
“Clearly.” She huffs, making that one strand of hair lift from her face for a moment. It flutters back against her cheek like a feather.
“I felt like…you might want a moment where you didn’t feel watched.”
Gwen looks at me like I just read her diary without her permission. “But you did watch.”
“I protected you. That’s why I’m here. I didn’t plan on telling you.” I pull at the damn bowtie that feels tighter with every passing minute in this closet. When I look back at Gwen, her features have softened.
“I feel…” she rolls her shoulders back, looking me right in the eye, “I feel like I need to apologize. And then when we leave this closet, we can forget that I ever uttered the words. But I’m not trying to run off again. I’m sorry you had to follow me if it—if it made things worse for you.”
After a moment longer, she whispers, “I did just want a moment alone.”
An apology from Guinevere Russell. And this time, I don’t even feel like she owed it to me. I could sympathize with someone feeling like they always had to look over their shoulder. Hell, I turned that feeling into a career, wanting to lessen the burden of it for other people. I’ve just never had a client who felt like I added to that burden.
“Thank you, but I don’t think you need to apologize. It’s understandable if you feel…a bit suffocated by all of this.”
We watch each other again for a minute before she speaks. “I felt suffocated long before you showed up. I guess it just makes it feel a bit more real. A bit more… constant.”
I nod. “What if we came up with a deal? Maybe you can go to the gym in your building by yourself a few days a week, and you just text me if you feel like you need a spotter.”
She smiles just a bit. “A spotter for weights? Or a spotter for creeps?”
“I think both fall under my job description.”
“Okay, deal. Should we have a codeword?”
In typical Gwen fashion, I feel like she’s being sarcastic, but the earnest expression on her face makes me consider it.
“If you’d like.”
She purses her lips, looking around the tiny room and finding nothing to aid her. Then the lightbulb seems to click, and she brightens with it.
“How about Brandy?”
“Brandy? As long as it won’t come up in standard conversation.”
“I doubt it. We’re mostly a gin or whiskey family. It was actually the name of my mom’s favorite horse. She was super skittish but a total sweetheart.” Gwen goes quiet for a minute before adding in a much brighter tone, “So, if I text ‘Brandy’ to you, you’ll know I need your assistance.”
“Duly noted.” I wish she would have kept talking. Or rambling, as she called it.
“Can we leave now? So we can forget my apology already?”
I chuckle, and she perks up to the sound. “Once Amari texts, we can forget the apology.”
She groans. “Why couldn’t this have happened before the dancing?”
I eye her, careful not to push my luck on this thin ice. “Daniel is sweet on you, huh?”
“Sweet on me?” Humor peppers her tone, “That’s one I haven’t heard before. But I guess so, though there’s nothing sweet about it. I just hate slow dancing, no matter who it’s with. He just makes it worse.”
“You hate dancing? I thought you liked going out for that specific reason.”
She gives me that quietly shocked expression again. “I love dancing. I hate slow dancing. It’s so awkward and cold and…stuffy. Ew, seriously, just everything about it. Awful.”
“Slow dancing isn’t so bad.”
“Says the guy who says stuff like ‘sweet on me.’”
I roll my eyes, and I know she notices from her quiet gasp of mock horror.
My phone lights up, and we’re good to go.
“Okay, we’re clear,” I make a move to stand, but glancing down at her left leg, I stop. Reaching down to her ankle, I take a moment to readjust the clasp, not completely unaware of how still she gets when I do so. “The clasp came undone. You could trip.”
“Oh,” she whispers, “Thank you.”
I ignore the waterfall of thoughts that traitorous brain dumps on me, like how soft her skin is, and how I’d like nothing more than to rub soothing circles across her skin. I help her up before moving the shelves back to where they were, making a pathway out. As I open the door for Gwen, she pauses.
“Just remember, no mention of this conversation or the apology once we leave this room.”
“What apology?”
Her eyes shine, and my heart rate seems to have forgotten that the threat has been neutralized.
“Thank you, Mr. Miller.”
Despite her smirk, her voice is entirely sincere.
The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, and most people throw in the towel early after all the excitement with the neighbor. In just under two more hours, I’m watching Gwen close the door of her room, actually believing that she’ll stay there this time. To further prove my point, I can’t faintly hear the shower turn on next door. This place was pretty, but thankfully, it was also old. The sound carried quite a bit. I took a shower myself, leaning my arms against the wall and trying to let the steam-ridden water loosen my muscles. I knew that taking this job would be stressful for all the reasons I expected. It was my first private position since…well, since the source of the nightmares. I didn’t know there would be this added conflict. That I would feel so weird and tingly from doing something as simple as fixing Gwen’s shoestrap. Or that I would nearly bend the fork in my hand seeing Daniel stroke her practically bare back. Almost half my clients have been women over the years, some of them I found to be beautiful. Never have I had the sort of thoughts that would risk my professionalism. But standing under the water, relieved for her safety, thinking about the way she smiled at me, that strand of hair that caressed her cheek, her eyes, her dress, her giggle…my cock twitches as a dozen images flood my mind.
No.
Not even here. Not even alone.
Two months. I said I would give it two months. In just two more weeks, I can fulfill the promise I made to myself, and to Tommy.
Two more weeks, and I’m out.Turning off the water, I ignore the pain in my chest at the thought of leaving her. I tell myself it’s the pain of leaving behind this paycheck, as I also ignore the fact that I haven’t checked my balance in weeks.
- - -
There is a brunch the following morning before everyone packs up and jets off. I had heard of brunch here and there, but for this group of people, it meant white tablecloths and lobster to go with your eggs if you wanted. All of the security officers got a plate, so I couldn’t complain. I was even a little disappointed to be leaving my room, not only for the welcome separation that my lustful mind required, but also because returning to the city meant returning to a more populated—and often more dangerous—area.
Daniel makes eyes at Gwen the entire plane ride home, seemingly more irritated than usual, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s glued to her laptop the whole flight, occasionally glancing up to confirm something with Paul. When we’re back in the car with Rodney, I hear her sigh of relief. It always seems to be an effort to bite my tongue when I’m around her, but the pressure to ask her what happened with Murphy, and frankly, any other of the misbehaved men at Russell Corp, has only intensified. But it’s her experience, and even without the scare last night, I feel that the weekend would have exhausted her. Not that she’d ever admit it.
We’re back to our silent ways on the way up to her apartment, both of us waiting on the double doors to open. I feel her glance at me once or twice, and I wonder if she’s done that before. If this was a common occurrence, and I only notice it now because of its lack of malice. But I keep my head straight, and soon enough, we’re inside.
Except, we only take a couple steps in before I reach my arm out to the right, stopping her from moving any further.
“Miss Russell, does Teddy ever bring up your packages?”
She tries to peer around me, “No. He doesn’t have an access key or the passcode, especially not with the new system.”
With that, I snake my arm around Gwen to position her behind me.
I clench one of my fists together, listening intently. Nothing.
“I’m going to need you to hold onto my belt loop,” I stick to hushed tones as I take out my phone and send a quick text to Amari’s team.
“Um…” It’s the only thing Gwen whispers before she takes hold of my loop with a finger from each hand.
“We’re going to sweep the apartment, okay? You stay as close as you can.” She shuffles closer to me, but doesn’t reply.
After taking a few steps with Gwen in tow, I know by the tightening of my belt that she’s seen the giant bouquet of white roses sitting on her kitchen island. Everything else in this area of the apartment looks untouched. I’ll need to do a proper sweep later, but I can’t risk sending Gwen back down in the elevator by herself. I can’t risk both of us leaving together and not catching whoever delivered the flowers. My hunch is that they’re long gone, but I would never risk someone’s safety based on that alone.
The two entryway closets are clear, and the living room is fairly easy to sweep as there aren’t as many hiding places. Same with the bathroom and the hall closet. My room, under my bed, and the closet take a bit longer, but they are all clear. I square my shoulders entering Gwen’s room last, knowing that this would be the most likely place for a stalker to hide. I search it thoroughly as it’s larger than I imagined, even knowing the square footage beforehand. I’m wary as we approach the closet, and Gwen must have closed her eyes, because she rests her forehead against my back. That tug in my chest forms again as I pull back every article of clothing to ensure no one is crouching behind it. With one more look on her balcony, the apartment is clean. Of intruders at least. It could still be bugged, but I would take this small blessing for now.
Gwen’s head is still resting on my back even now that we’re searched the place. Her hands are gripping my entire belt. I reach around for them, softly patting her forearms.
“We’re all clear. You’re safe.”
She still doesn’t reply, so I gently stroke her arms until they release me, and I turn around to face her.
“You’re safe.” I repeat to both of us.
“Every time I’ve received flowers, Teddy will ring upstairs.”
I nod. “I figured. You and I are the only ones who can get into the apartment now.”
Her voice doesn’t shake, but there is fear in her eyes.
“Amari and the rest of the team are on their way. They’ll do a thorough sweep. We need to stay somewhere else tonight.”
Gwen just nods.
“Miss Russell, do you need to pack anything from this room?”
“Yes,” This seems to jolt something in her, and she speeds over to the closet for a minute or two before returning with a small bag.
“I’m ready.”
I wait as I always do for her to exit the room first, but she hesitates, looking at me with that same fear still blatant in her eyes.
“Just follow me and we’ll be on our way,” I say, waiting until she’s right behind me to step out.
Back in the kitchen, I see a note sticking out of the bouquet. I grab a paper towel, not wanting to contaminate it.
“Is it alright with you if I read this?” I ask her.
Again, she simply nods.
The card is handwritten with no address or logo of a florist. I take out my phone to snap a picture of the note, and when it comes into focus, I pause.
“What is it?” Dammit. I was hoping she wouldn’t notice.
“Everything’s fine. We’ll discuss it in the car.” I leave the note behind, hovering my hand near Gwen’s back to encourage her toward the elevator.
Amari’s team is here by the time we get to the garage. I tell them I moved the note, and Gwen grabbed a few things from the closet. Other than that, it’s as we left it. They came prepared with equipment, and I ask them to get security footage from the lobby. I want to speak with Teddy myself to see if he remembers who dropped off the flowers, but I know the priority right now is to get Gwen out of here. Whoever left her the flowers, and that damn note, was probably thinking about her standing there reading it right now. I get a knot in my stomach at the thought, knowing that it’s possible they know the location of William’s house too. But with the staff and the majority of the security being full-time, it made the most sense to take her there for the night.
I get in the backseat with her without thinking. I know she’s felt suffocated, in her own words, but the way she was watching me, hovering next to me when I spoke with Amari and his team…it felt like she needed company back here.
“Well,” she says when we’re ten minutes away from her father’s house. “What did it say? Who was it from?”
I keep my focus on the streets passing by. “I don’t think that it’s helpful for you to know that.”
“I don’t care about helpful, Mr. Miller. If it was meant for me, I want to know what it said.”
When I look over to her side of the car, she’s watching me with pleading eyes. I sigh, taking out my phone, and handing it over to her.
To my future CEO. One rose for each day I’ve followed you. I can only wait and wonder if you smell just as sweet. I count the days until you can take over that seat, so I will always know where to find you.
Gwen’s body stiffens beside me. “Followed…they could mean online, right? It doesn’t necessarily mean in person.”
“They could mean online.” It is possible, but what I won’t say to Gwen right now is that they would have to have known she was out of town in order to deliver them. I think she knows that already, but I don’t need to force her to process it at this very moment.
“How many roses were there?”
“It looked like two dozen at least. They’ll confirm that as well and check the letter for prints.”
“Alright,” she hands my phone back to me and turns her head to the window. Just before we pull up to her father’s townhome, she adds, “I want to be kept apprised on the situation. Don’t spare my feelings.”
“Understood.” I mean it, too. Though that doesn’t mean I’ll be comfortable telling her.
This is the first time entering the home that Ezra isn’t there to greet us, neither is Daniel or William. In fact, it’s the only time we’ve been here that wasn’t for a Wednesday dinner. The hustle and bustle is significantly reduced, being that there aren’t waitstaff running around. The place feels more like a museum in the silence. The foyer alone echoes as we walk through, and the brisk air outside seems to match the rest of the house as we walk further down the foyer.
“Can I take your coat?” Normally I would’ve done so by now, but Gwen walked so swiftly that we’re already in the hallway moving toward the kitchen.
“Oh…” She looks down at the gray wool. “No, thank you.”
“Do you want me to see if Melissa can make you something?” I point to the kitchen that she’s about to enter. Gwen bites down on her lip.
“No. Thanks. I think I’ll go to my room.”
I nod, following her up the stairs. I check my watch as inconspicuously as possible, and it’s not even seven yet. From the lost look in her eyes, and how tightly she’s clutching the bag she brought from her place, time is probably irrelevant to her. She takes a few steps into her room before she looks at me, surprised, as if she forgot I was here.
“I don’t know where you can sleep…we have guest rooms. I’m sure one of the staff—”
“Don’t worry about it, Miss Russell.” I say softly.
She places the bag down on one of the lounge chairs across from the bed.
“And you’re sure that Teddy didn’t bring up the flowers?”
“I’ll know more once I speak with the team, but I don’t see how he would have access.”
“Okay.”
She still doesn’t take off her coat. In fact, she wraps it tighter around herself holding each of her elbows with the opposite hand.
“If you would like to discuss this later, that’s fine. But do you notice any frequent comments by the same followers? Anything in the last few months that’s stuck out to you?”
Gwen mulls it over for a minute. “No,” She doesn’t sound convinced. “I get death threats, I have for at least a year. And typical comments just bashing what I look like or objectifying me and what I’m wearing. But people say nice things, too. Do you think someone who left a note like that would leave negative comments, or positive ones?”
It’s a good question. We’ve mostly been focused on those who might sound like they want to harm her, but people who sound like they want to be her or be with her can be just as dangerous.
“I don’t know. Either one is possible, and it’s also possible they don’t follow you online at all. I realize this may not be comfortable to hear but—”
“But I asked you not to spare my feelings.” She plops down in one of the lounge chairs. “There’s nothing else I can do right now, is there?”
I know it was rhetorical, but I answer it anyway. “All you need to do is stay here. Where you’re safe.”
“I thought I was safe there.” She murmurs.
So did I.
A flicker of rage ignites in my chest. “You will be again. I’ll make sure of it.”
Her blue eyes meet mine with that soft, hopeful look I’m rarely privileged enough to see.
“Thank you.”
I lock the door from her side before I start to close it. As I do, I can see her rub her hands along her thighs to wipe them, her eyes darting towards the window.
I know before the lock clicks that I’m not spending the night in a guest room.
