The Affair

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Chapter 4 - Connection


“I like to watch her Loag’s, my P.A is so plastic and continuously flirting that I often find myself watching yours.” Pierre adjusted his rising member in his pants.

“Stay away from her Pear,” I warned while sending an E-mail from my laptop.

“She doesn’t even realise, how good looking she is loags?” His hands palm the glass.

“Is this why you’re here? To eye rape my P.A?”

“She wears a wedding ring.” He turns to look at me.

“I know, I spotted it the first moment I met her,” I state.

“I’ve never heard her mention him, how old is she… 23/24?”

“26 and no she has not once mentioned him.”

“That’s a little young to be married?” Pear flops into the chair slightly dejectedly.

“Perhaps she’s not. Maybe, she wears the ring to deter drooling horny men like you?” I lean back in my desk chair with both hands behind my head.

The door opens and in walks Arabella, my cock immediately twitches.

“Mr Taylor,” she nods politely to Pear and smiles back at me.

“Logan… there is a rather vulgar lady on line two for you. Her name is Hillary Spearwood, she’s rather persistent in speaking with you sir,” her eyes fall to her feet.

“A rather large one date mistake I’m afraid.” I rub my hands over my face, “leave her waiting on line two and when she finally gives up, block her please.”

Embarrassed by my past in front of her again - this had become an almost weekly event.

“Sir, I-I really like my job, but some of the female company you surround yourself with have the need to call me names, such as slut, bitch and whore on a daily basis,” my mouth fly’s open as I watch her fidget before me.

“What?” I gasp.

“I wish not to get involved in your personal life, however, after two months, I’m not sure I can handle much more.”

“I’m so sorry Arabella, granted, I have not made the best choices in the company I keep but I never thought they were crazy enough to abuse you so. Please, from now on forward the calls to my office, I will deal with this personally. Although, Miss Lucia, I can assure you my promiscuous days are far behind me.” Our eyes lock and she stands there assessing if what I’m saying is true.

“Thank you, sir,” she mumbles before leaving.

“Woah buddy, you have no chance with her now.” Pear laughs.

I stare at my laptop screen fuming. These cheap, easy women cause nothing but trouble. Unfortunately, since the moment Miss Lucia made her way into my life, I haven’t been able to think of anybody else, including getting hard - my only turn on was Arabella and they may have cost me my chance with this dream woman.

“Are you coming home at all this week?… Caleb… we have to talk about this… no… Caleb no… we haven’t slept together for over a year… Caleb?... Caleb?” Her face falls to her knees.

“Miss Lucia?” I ask concerned, “are you okay?”

Her eyes snap to mine, watery and looking like they will run any second. “Yes, sir?” She flusters, fixing the loose strands of her hair, “can I get something for you?”

“Will you accompany me to dinner tonight?” The question slips out of my mouth before I have time to think.

“Logan, I’m fine really...” she stares at her computer screen pretending to type.

“Please? You would be doing me a favour, I fear people will start asking questions if I continue to eat alone every night,” her gaze falls to the desk.

“Sir, I’m not sure what you heard…” I cut in before she can speak.

“You once said your life consists of being invisible, microwave dinners and books, perhaps it can also consist of a pleasant evening, at a fancy restaurant, to save a man from dining alone again?”

She seemed to ponder my offer with sadness.

“Sure Logan, I’d love to, thank you.” My heart bounced happily at her accepting and my pulse began to race.

“Fantastic, we shall leave from here at six and take my car.” I walked away before she can refuse.

This is it, my moment to be able to show her, I am far more than just a player. I have never been so nervous before, I must organise Blake, my driver and the best restaurant, tonight she will understand what it’s like to be enjoyed.

“What made you work for Roger?” I ask the question I’ve actually wondered for four months now.

She sips her wine glass, leaving behind a scarlet covered lip print. “It was never my intention to stay so long but, I guess I got stuck there.” She averted the question like a professional.

“That is not what I asked Arabella,” she places her palm on her forehead, an action she frequently does when she thinks.

“I know what you asked Logan,” she replies with a furrowed brow.

“Okay, so, do you enjoy working for our company?” I try a different tactic.

“Very much so, Hilda and I grab lunch together when we can and you always have me doing something different, I feel like I’m useful for once.” Her hazel eyes sparkle under the restaurant’s dim lighting.

“You’re friends with Hilda West, the front receptionist?” I find the pairing odd.

“Yes, she is wonderful and so super bubbly and kind. We are currently swapping recipes to find the best cake.” She laughs, her innocents and vulnerability evident on her soft face.

“Well, I think I should be judging these cake recipes, don’t you think?” I smile and wink.

“You’d ruin yourself for our cake competition?” She smirks in amusement.


“Wow, you’re going to wish you didn’t say that, by the way, I will completely destroy you if you like her cake better.”

“I’m sure you have many hidden talents.” She blushes and nervously rubs her chin on her shoulder.

“Logan? Why do those women call every day? Some continuously.” Our eyes locked as if determined to find lies hidden between my answer.

“As I’ve explained before, I once was a very free loving man, no thought to my actions, with the finances and the name, comes a bunch of social hungry pariahs, most of whom are disguised as personal friends to my parents. When you discover the reasoning for your popularity, it tends to awaken your eyes, leaving a result of unhindered consequences. I’m very sorry you were brought into the middle of this craziness, I can most certainly assure you those days are over.”

Her eyes find the table as she begins to fidget once more.

“Do you think you are up to a new challenge?” I ask, wanting quickly to steer away from my past.

“Other than beating Hilda in the cake competition?” We laugh together.

“Yes, other than that. I should very much like you to organise this year’s annual office gala, to celebrate five successful years as a standalone firm.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “That’s important, what if I mess that up? You need a professional for that type of job,” her dubiety in herself is disconcerting.

“I believe you are well suited, perfect even, should you need extra help I am always happy to assist you.” Truthfully, there was a hidden agenda to my ploy and I was hoping she would take the bait to move closer in our non-existent relationship.

Sitting in the car out the front of her house, she looks up at her balcony with sadness, what could be causing her such strife?

“Is there something wrong, Miss Lucia?” She fidgets with her fingers.

“No Logan, thank you for a wonderful evening,” she says before exiting the car.

Blake closes the door behind her and I watch as she heads into her house.


Looking up at our dark and empty house, I’m immediately plagued by thoughts of hatred and presumed adultery. Caleb, the man I had vowed to love so fiercely, had sought comfort once again, away from home and left me with nothing but darkness to surround myself in.

“Is there something wrong, Miss Lucia?” Logan’s silky masculine low rumble echoed through my thoughts. I had willingly sort refuge in the company of another man - my boss, of all people - to deter from yet another empty night of loneliness and fantasy literature.

“No Logan, thank you for a wonderful evening.”

Walking into our marital bedroom, I found myself studying the wall hangings of our wedding day.

How can a relationship go from that to this?

Truth was, I still had no idea when everything had gone wrong, one day we were happy and completely in love with each other, after working at the firm for a couple of years, he began to become distant and now this-this mess. Over a year without intimacy, losing all contact with friends, a brother I rarely speak too and no other family.

In the desperate darkness of slumber, my mind would become a playground for my darkest erotic desires, always waking just before my release and always burning a deeper need for connection.

A buzz from my mobile breaks my inner monologue.

… Arabella, it’s painfully obvious that you are overlooked. I should like you to know that I see you, Logan x…

… Logan, I fear you may have had too much wine at dinner, Arabella …

… Arabella, I wish for you to join me for dinner again, tomorrow? Logan x…

… Logan, it would be highly inappropriate for me to do so, Arabella…

… Arabella, then I shall come to yours, for microwave meals and books, Logan x…

… Logan, the daily phone calls suggest there is no shortage of dinner companions, Arabella…

… Arabella, regrettably yes. However, most I have not bedded nor will ever - there is only one who holds my interest. Logan x…

Why was he using a cross at the end of his name? Am I the one? Let’s not head down that train of thought?

He confirmed clearly, the intentions of his plethora of woman devotees. I was confused. Four months I had been working for this man and all we had exchanged were awkward moments, slight skin brushes and tonight a very in-depth and tantalising dinner.

“Logan, what are you doing here?” I was shocked to find him standing at my front door, especially after we had worked an entire day together without mentioning it.

“I told you, microwave dinner and books, I brought my book.” I laughed at his adorable answer.

“Logan...” I began but he instantly cut me off.

“Then perhaps we should go out? I saw a very nice looking restaurant on my drive here.”

“Let me grab my coat.”

The night was spent with endless conversation on all things we both found interesting. I couldn’t remember the last time I had intellectually engaged in such fantastic banter. He was an interesting man, I thoroughly enjoyed how he spoke of his family and childhood and how he ran to clear his head and surfed when he found the time. Logan had attempted to create an artwork masterpiece in high school yet, his teacher found he lacked creativity.

We spoke of poetry and how I was addicted to werewolf literature, and how I dreamed of being apart of that world - minus, of course, the sexual details. He continuously complemented me on every aspect I shared with him and paid close attention to the habits I had developed over the years. By the time I checked my wristwatch, it was 12.30am and although the restaurant was open until 1, it was definitely time to call it a night.

“Thank you, Logan, for a wonderful evening and for bringing me home,” our faces inches apart, I could feel the heat radiating off his body as we stood in my doorway.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he leans forward but stops dead, lost in his gold eyes, he seemed frozen to the spot.

Nodding ever so slightly as if he were agreeing to himself, he turned and left as I watched with knitted eyebrows and confusion.

Surely he had not leaned in to kiss me then decided better of it? Surely, he had seen my wedding ring? Maybe he had overheard my conversation yesterday and felt sorry for me? Maybe this was pity kindness or a bet he was trying to win. My mind had begun to overthink again as I withdrew my phone from my bag.

… Logan, did I do something wrong? Arabella…

A familiar vibration tickled my palm the moment his reply arrived.

… Arabella, never think you have done anything wrong, see you in the morning, Logan x…

Not convinced of his reply, I dragged myself to bed feeling more rejected and empty than before, though it was now companioned by confusion and doubt.

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