A groan filled the dark bedroom as Cordelia felt someone violently shaking her. In her sleepy daze, the familiar force made her believe she was back in her childhood home.
"Mom," she groaned, eyes pinched shut as she tried to roll away from the obnoxious hands. "Mom, I'm up. Leave me alone."
"It's not your mom, Del!" shrieked a familiar voice. "It's Lillian. Your phone alarm has been going off. Get your ass up, hoe."
Lillian's voice filtered through the layers of consciousness in Cordelia's brain until she suddenly sprung upright. In her haste, Lillian couldn't dodge her fast enough and their foreheads collided with a sickening noise.
"Ah, fuck!" Lillian cried. She stumbled backwards, gripping her head.
Cordelia's eyes shot around her dark room. A dizzying pain throbbed in her skull. "I'm sorry . . . Lillian. I—Ow." She massaged her own aching head.
"I am going back to bed now," grumbled her roommate as she shuffled back out of the room.
Cordelia grabbed her phone. The time read 8:47 AM. She turned off the three alarms she had slept through and took a few deep breaths. She'd gotten approximately three hours of sleep. Had she even finished the worksheet last night? She couldn't remember.
Sighing, she got out of bed and pulled on her favorite sweatpants. Then she migrated to the bathroom to freshen up. She looked over her schedule for the day while she did her business. Her eyes widened. Why was there a schedule block for 9AM? That was in ten minutes. The block wasn't labeled with anything, though. She had no idea what it was for.
Once she finished her business returned to her room, she flipped through her physical calendar but found that it didn't have the block in it. Biting her lip, she did a search through her phone for a 9, hoping it would reveal where she was supposed to be in less than ten minutes.
The first result of the search was a text from herself to UNKNOWN. Her brows knit together. She clicked on the message and the entire message thread pulled up.
CORDELIA: I'll only be free in the morning, sir. I'll plan to be there by 9 but I'll sex you when I'm heading there
Her jaw dropped. She read the message again and then a third time. Sex you? Oh, God. She realized it was Dr. Rochester she had sent they to. When she read the rest of the message thread, she found that her responses made absolutely no sense. The time stamp for the messages were all around 3AM last night. She must have been at wit's end. Her cheeks burned with shame. What would her new boss think of her!
Panic set in as she realized she would never make it to the Labs in six minutes. She groaned in frustration. She hadn't even officially started her internship yet, and here she was, already running late. She dialed the UNKNOWN number and listened to the call connect after one ring.
"Good morning, Miss Webb," greeted a throaty, deep voice.
"Good morning, sir," she said. "I'm afraid I'm going to be arriving just after 9." Her cheeks flushed at the thought of her messages. "I'm also sorry about the messages last night. I don't even recall exchanging them last night."
There was quiet through the line and then: "I recommend you cut back on your partying behavior, Cordelia. I need your utmost attention and focus."
Partying? Cordelia's face turned ashen.
"Oh, no. Sir, I—"
"I don't want excuses. I want results. I expect you in my office shortly, Miss Webb."
The phone clicked off before she could say anything in her defense. Cordelia didn't party. She'd gone to a few bars with Lillian before but she was always DD. She preferred quiet isolation.
Cordelia flew through her morning routine and dressed in a sheer-sleeved, black and purple turtleneck dress that billowed down to her knees. She slid her matching flats on, grabbed her backpack, and shot out the door. Her thoughts raced as she walk-jogged the five blocks across town to Syntex Labs. Blisters bubbled on the backs of her feet from her shoes and she grimaced walking into the pristine lobby. She was relieved not to see the girl behind the desk from last time. Had he truly fired her?
"Hi, Miss," greeted a boy. He was probably 18 or 19 with a mop of brown hair and round chocolate eyes. "How can I help you?
"I'm Dr. Rochester's intern," Cordelia said hurriedly. "Would you mind buzzing me into his office?"
The boy smiled. "Let me just call him first to confirm. One second."
Nodding, Cordelia nibbled on her cheek and began shifting between her feet.
"Yes, sir," the boy was saying. "I'll bring her directly." He set the phone down and stood up. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to his office."
They crossed the lobby and he waved his hand in front of the sensor. Soon they were inside the large office space.
"So, what's your name?" the boy asked her.
Cordelia's eyes snapped up to his. "Cordelia. And you?" she asked. Her palms were damp as she rubbed them together.
"Matthew. You're new, right?"
She nodded.
"Well, welcome to the team," Matthew said. His pace slowed as they reached Dr. Rochester's tall black office doors. "See you around."
He smiled down at her while he headed back to the front of the building. Smoothing her sweaty hands over the skirt of her dress, Cordelia sucked in a breath. She raised her hand to open the knock on the door but, before she could, she heard her boss's voice from the other side.
"Come in, Miss Webb."
How did he know? She sighed, lifted her chin, and pushed the door open. Dread ate away at her innards. She was absolutely dreading this conversation.
Dr. Rochester was seated behind his desk as Cordelia stepped inside his office. His inky-colored hair was perfectly gelled to frame the angles of his face. He watched her approach his desk through frigid pale blue eyes. Cordelia felt her pulse gallop in her temples.
"Please, sit," he told her.
She shivered at the sternness in his voice. Dropping into the ivory chair as she had yesterday, she said, "Good morning, Dr. Rochester—"
He interrupted her in a terse voice. "What did I ask you to call me, Cordelia?"
She swallowed. "Evan," she spoke softly as of afraid he would find her answer somehow unacceptable.
"When it is just the two of us, that is what I expect you to call me. Now that we're discussing expectations, let me make another thing clear for you."
The intimidating man rose from his chair and walked around the desk. He sat on the edge of the solid wood furniture directly in front to where she sat. If she looked directly ahead, she'd be staring at the lump behind his pant zipper. She forced herself to look at her boss's face to fend off those dark, lusty thoughts. His eyes chilled her to the bone. She felt naked under the intensity of them, like he could see everything.
"I hold all of my employees to a respectable level of self-conduct. Just because you will not be client-facing does not mean you aren't held to the same standard. If anything, I need you performing at the top of your game every day. Once people know you are close to me . . ." He pressed his palms to his slacks and leaned towards her. His intoxicating cologne washed over her. He smelled of raw, unadulterated virile male. "They will expect you to behave a certain way. Partying on a week night will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear, Cordelia?"
She pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, nodding. "Yes, sir. I understand that. I wasn't partying last night, though. I stayed up late to complete a class assignment," she said. Her face beamed up at the man with earnest.
"You certainly seemed to be under the influence of something last night."
"I sincerely apologize. I was feeling very tired at that hour. I couldn't even recall the conversation when I woke this morning."
A noise of disapproval rolled out of his throat. "Then you must get more sleep and do your studies earlier. You need to be well-rested for optimal performance."
Does he think all I do is work for him? Cordelia thought incredulously. Besides, he was also up in the wee hours! What does that say about him?
Instead of arguing with him, she just nodded and dipped her head.
"I want to discuss the next week of work I need from you," he says.
The sound of clothes rustling drew her attention back up. Dr. Rochester had moved back to his office chair and draped his black suit jacket over the back of it. Cordelia's eyes roamed over the slopes of his broad shoulders, expansive chest, and bulging biceps through the thin veil of his white button-down. Warmth bloomed in her lower abdomen.
What am I doing? she thought. He's my boss!
"I need you here tomorrow and Sunday," Dr. Rochester continued. "There's a project I need delivered by Sunday evening and I want to train you on it."
Her first weekend of getting this internship and she had to work it? She sighed, prepared to resign herself to the fate, when she realized she'd made a promise to her mother.
"Something wrong?" he asked, sounding irritated.
"I just, uh, told my mom I'd come home this weekend," she admitted. Her teeth sucked her bottom lip into her mouth while she gauged his reaction.
His gaze fluttered down to the action, watched her lip come away sparkling with her warm saliva. Noticing the way his eyes lingered gave Cordelia a spurt of fireflies in her stomach.
"This weekend is not debatable, I'm afraid." His voice rolled over her like water in a brook. "We must begin your training immediately."
She tried not to show how this upset her. Her mother would be furious, no doubt. But she did need this internship to graduate and she couldn't afford another second at her university.
"Of course, sir," she replied, her eyes in her lap.
"Look at me when I speak to you," he growled, making her head snap up. "What are you to call me?"
Cordelia's spine became rod-straight and squeezed her thighs together. She stared at his chest before gradually raising her eyes to his. "E-Evan."
The moment she said his name, the tense skin around his calculative, mysterious ocean eyes relaxed. His posture sank back a little.
"I expect you to come in by nine," he told her. "Bring your laptop and a notebook. I'll provide lunch."
She swallowed. "How long will I be working each day?"
"Eight hours."
What the hell did I sign up for? she groaned internally.
"Any comments, questions, or opinions, Miss Webb?" he asked, a sultry lilt to his words. He was daring her.
Daring me to do what? Cordelia wondered.
"No, s—Evan." She covered her mouth with a cough to cover her mistake.
The daunting man before her smiled. She felt unnerved by his mood change and tried to sit even straighter. Her lungs hadn't taken a normal breath since she'd stepped in here. Even though she hadn't known her boss long at all, he was acting more like an asshole than he had yet.
"Glad we understand each other, Cordelia."
She gulped again. The way he said her name was sinful. Was he intentionally trying to charm her or was she just about to start her period?
Well, my nipples do feel very sensitive, she mused.
"You may go," Dr. Rochester told her. "I wanted to make sure you understood the responsibility that is working under me."
"I understand."
Since he turned back to his computer monitor, Cordelia jumped up from the chair and smoothed out her dress.
"Cordelia?" he asked.
"Yes?" She turned to look back at him, clutching her backpack in her hand. His eyes were glued to her.
"Where do your parents live?"
Her face pulled into a frown. Why did it matter? It wasn't like he was letting her leave to visit them.
"They're in Thomasville," she said.
"That's a long drive."
She shrugged stiffly. "It's not bad."
"Very well," he remarked and turned back to this computer.
Taking that as her cue, Cordelia hitched her bag over her shoulder and walked out. She rolled her eyes once she was out of sight.
He made me come all the way over here for this! she scoffed, marching back across the building.
She was so annoyed matching through the lobby, grimacing against her blisters, that she nearly missed Matthew calling after her.
"Cordelia! Cordelia! Del!"
His voice finally penetrated through her thoughts and she halted, turning towards him.
Once her landed on him, a grin broke out across his face. Despite her annoyance, she found herself smiling back. Matthew was adorable in a happy-go-lucky golden retriever kind of way. Was it rude to compare him to a sweet, obedient domestic animal?
"It is okay if I call you 'Del,' isn't it?" he asked, breathing slightly elevated. He must've been running after her.
"Sure," she said.
"Cool. Here's your badge, by the way." He offered a matte metal name tag. "Your biometrics should work on all doors you have access to."
She accepted the name tag from him and tucked it into the outside pocket of her backpack. "Thanks, Matthew."
"Bye, Del. See ya next week."
Sighing, as she remembered she'd be back here tomorrow morning, she waved at him and walked towards the doors.