Finding Lily. Vivacia Ahwen K.

shared relieved smiles and he said, ‘Allow me to worship you, now, Ms Dewitt.’

      Yes.

      Dorian drew me close, caressed my skin, stroked my hair. ‘Just one moment, love. Time to clean up my dirty girl.’

       Wait. Did he just call me ‘love’? Oh, Lily, shut your lizard brain off for a few minutes, would you?

      I forced myself to return to the moment, empty my head, to just be …

      I lay on my belly while Dorian gave me a gentle, cool sponge bath (remember, I still was all sticky-popsicled up) and turned on a fan so the gentle breeze would cool and dry my stinging flesh. Everything that could smart smarted. Then there was a soft, soothing, light texture, rushing over my skin.

      ‘What is that?’ I mumbled. ‘It feels like fur.’

      ‘Feather duster. Ostrich. Am I being gentle enough?’

      ‘Perfect. It’s so … nice.’ I pictured crawling around his apartment in a French maid’s costume, using the very same duster, and decided I would have to make that happen. ‘Don’t stop, Dorian. Please.’

      ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ There was a note of amusement in his voice. ‘What kind of master doesn’t clean up his poor little sub after he went and got her so very, very dirty?’

      So, yeah, that was how the rest of our evening went.

      * * *

      ‘Hey. Sleeping Beauty. Trying to say goodbye here.’

      ‘Oh … OK.’ I pulled myself up and shook my head around, trying to clear my thoughts and become reoriented. ‘Gotta say, look even hotter than usual this morning.’

      ‘Knock it off.’ He ran a hand through his hair, bashful.

      ‘Just say thank you.’ I grinned. ‘You need to learn to accept compliments.’

      ‘Don’t tell me what I “need” to do.’ He paused. ‘All right. Thank you, Lily. Will that work?’

      ‘You’re most welcome, Mr Holder.’

      ‘I’ll ring you at nine, then?’

      ‘Please do.’

      Dorian brushed his lips against mine and asked, ‘What did you and Beezus talk about last night?’

      ‘Nothing,’ I said, which was kind of true.

      He must’ve checked his call history.

      ‘Good. Let’s keep it that way.’ He tugged at his necktie.

      ‘Or what? You’ll tan my hide?’

      ‘Don’t tempt me.’ He placed his index finger to his lips, then leaned over and touched mine. I tried to nip his finger, but he pulled away too quickly. ‘Be quiet, Lily. Go back to sleep.’

      ‘I’ll try.’

      ‘Excellent. You’ll be needing some extra rest.’ He winked. ‘I’m looking forward to lunch. Hungry already.’

      ‘Got it.’ I winked back. ‘See you soon.’

      ‘See you soon …’ He cupped his ear.

      ‘See you soon, Mr Holder, sir.’

      ‘Yes, you will, Lily Dewitt. Be on time.’

      With that, he left me, and – always the obedient girl – I closed my eyes and drifted off.

       CHAPTER 9

       Meeting of the Minds

      So I was surprised to find Joey Danforth, the too-cute-for-his-own-good ratfink, sitting at Beatrice Collins’s old desk. Was he the new assistant to Mr Holder?

      ‘Ms Dewitt,’ he said, not looking up from his computer. ‘Have a seat.’

      Would that I could.

      ‘I’d rather stand,’ I replied.

      Fact is, I was totally beat, even with a bit of extra shut-eye. My dance lesson with Dr Marly Gheiszler stole the rest of my energy – we only did barre exercises, but I was still so bushed from the Dorian Sex-A-Thon that she just about broke me. All I wanted to do was flop down on the waiting-room couch, leaf through a magazine and conk out for another couple hours. Had it only been a few days ago when I was in this same room, waiting for my first one-on-one with Mr Holder?

      It felt like a lifetime ago. Dorian Holder fucked away my entire sense of time and reality.

      Dude was intense, I’ll give him that.

      Though I was dying for even a whiff of gossip, and knew from experience that Joey Danforth held all the cards, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of asking what I’d missed since Monday. Instead, I said, ‘So why don’t you page me in, Joey?’

      This time he deigned to look up at me, and his eyes widened.

      ‘Sorry, is something wrong?’ I asked, though from the way he took in my entire appearance, head to toe and back, I knew damn well what was wrong. My killer new makeover, that’s what was wrong. I had bothered to do my whole hair blow-out, smoky eyes, sexy yet professional grey Chanel suit and my So Kate silver Louboutin pumps. ‘I believe Mr Holder and I have a noontime conference scheduled. Check your notes.’

      Ooh. I was loving this new side of me, an act I’d more or less stolen from Beatrice Collins. That’s what happens when you get my best friend fired, douchebag, I thought. Meet Lily Dewitt, Bitch Princess of Agassiz Street and Switched Mistress of Sir Dorian Holder.

      Yes, I still was mad at Joey Danforth for throwing Gwen under the proverbial bus. Though she had given me the gal-pal break-up speech on Tuesday and continued avoiding my calls and emails, I hadn’t given up on her as my bosom friend. Not yet.

      Besides, how reasonable was it for Gwen to be pissed at me for losing her job? In all fairness to Dorian, she did show up to the office drunk after her last warning, but it was Joey who fucked her over in every sense of the word. Dorian and I would never see eye to eye on his favourite mole, and we had an unspoken agreement not to refer to him.

      Joey picked up the phone, mumbled a few words, hung up and looked at me. ‘Mr Holder will see you now.’

      ‘Excellent,’ I said, and strutted into my boss’s office.

      * * *

      ‘Ah, Ms Dewitt,’ said Dorian, as I closed the door behind me. Like Joey Danforth, he did not look up from the papers on his desk. ‘Have a seat.’

      Oh, is this how it’s going to be? Fine and dandy. Two can play that game, and the results would be sexually spectacular, sure.

      ‘Hello, Mr Holder,’ I replied. I perched on the leather couch and crossed my legs primly. Ouch. ‘Have you had time to look over my notes?’

      ‘Indeed,’ he said, rose to his feet, and towered over his ostentatious mahogany desk. ‘Can I fix you a drink? It’s five o’clock somewhere.’

      ‘No, thank you. But don’t let me stop you from imbibing, Mr Holder.’

      ‘Don’t be cheeky, Ms Dewitt. Believe me, you couldn’t stop me doing anything, no matter how hard you tried.’ He crossed the room in four easy strides and poured himself a scotch, neat.

      ‘You may call me Lily.’ It was then that I noticed the once empty vase on the glass coffee table was full of brilliant orange tiger lilies.

      ‘Excellent.’ He sat down on the leather chair diagonally from me, and took a sip. ‘Lily, I’m most impressed with the brainstorming you’ve done