What They Don't Know (Won't Hurt Them Trilogy #1) Read online

  The rower beeps as I meet my goal; just then, I look up, and there it is, an available stepper. I jump to my feet and lightly jog to the one on the end facing the pool area. Before I reach the machine, I slam hard into what I think is a wall, which just magically appeared.

  “Oww, dammit! What the hell?”

  “You like what you're stalking, hmm?”

  “What!” I look up at the human wall. “You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” I spit out. “Seriously, you are creeping me the hell out!”

  “Three's my favorite number,” he confesses.

  Shaking my head, I step back. “Excuse me; I want to use the stepper.”

  “For what, that's not your problem area,” says the human wall.

  Whaa? He did not just say that. “What are you, a personal trainer?”

  “No, but I've seen enough of you to know that your legs and your inner thighs don’t need that equipment to work you out.” He points to the stepper.

  Oh, no, he did not, and my lower little lady part is not responding to this BS. Ohh, she is; he can't say another word.

  “You need upper body training,” he says.

  “No, I'm fine in that area.”

  “Not doubting that; but you might want to tone your arms.”

  “Why?” I fold my arms over my chest. He leans in close, and I can smell his cologne. It smells like fresh linen and an alcohol-based musk. It smells like Bryant's. He moves his lips to my ear so only I can hear him.

  “You'll probably want to build your arm strength to be able to hold on.”

  “Hold on to what?”

  “The wall... my head... doesn't matter; but, you'll need to hold on.”

  “Why in the hell would I need to hold on to your head?”

  “When I lick and suck the juices from your inner thighs, my head and the wall will be two of your three points of contact.”

  “Really? And what would be the third?”

  “My shoulders under your legs.”

  Heat flushes my face. This man has given me a mental orgasm, and I just want to get away.

  I move to the side to allow him to walk past me, and he does. I turn to the stepper I was stalking; and when I take that first step my legs are noodles. This man hasn't even touched me yet. Yet? No effin way! He’s caused me to lose focus. Thirty minutes, and then I'm getting out of here. I start with a higher incline because my legs need to feel the burn.

  Ten minutes into my workout, I'm stepping and listening to my music. I see a man dive into the pool, and he's swimming like a fish. He looks like he's a professional swimmer. His body is solid, but I can't see his face. He swims two laps and only comes up for air briefly on each lap. He finally stops, and I'm staring when I notice his ear has a nice chocolate diamond. He covers his face with both hands and clears away the excess water. That's when I notice those cat-like eyes from Friday. I squint again like a ninety-year-old, and tilt my head to the side. It's him. The pool guy from Friday is the ass who strong-armed me in the café. The fucking arrogant douche who drives my car. The perv who wants to lick my inner thighs. Damn. He's looking at me with his head tilted and a smirk on his lips. He’s getting me wet just off eye contact. I'm done.

  I head directly for the ladies locker room, stopping to get my towel, before stepping into the steam room. After sliding the door shut, I sit with my back against the wall, close my eyes and cover my face with the towel. After a few minutes, someone joins me. I hear heavy breathing, and I pull the towel off my face, squinting to see through the fog. After a couple of seconds my eyes focus and I'm startled by the vision before me.

  “Get out!”

  Pool guy is in the ladies’ steam room stroking himself. Not quite jerking off; but a sensual stroke, and I take the time to actually notice this. My vagina has a mind of her own and defies me; she notices it too.

  “Please, get out,” I whisper.

  “What's wrong, honey?”

  “Not my name.”

  “Oh, but it fits you.”

  “Please leave,” I say again. He's now at full erection, and I'm not trying to look. Really, I'm not. He's a bit bigger than Bryant is. At least a full inch larger in girth, and maybe one, one and a half inches in length. Pool guy could do some damage to my goodies, and I'm not having that. I slowly rise from the bench; I don't know what to expect from this psycho. Really sexy psycho. I'm not scared of him per se, and I'm not sure why I'm not. I’m scared of the way my body is reacting. I'm scared someone might walk in.

  “I'll leave if you do one thing for me.”

  “You don't even know me.”

  “That's what makes this so stimulating.”

  “Can you just go, please?”

  “You like the way my cock looks?” He looks right into my eyes.

  “Can you please just go?” My breathing has picked up.

  “Answer the question, honey.”

  “Please, just go. I won't report any of this.”

  His expression turns serious, like at the café. He takes two steps toward me, and I freeze and squeeze my eyes closed. He's so close to my face I can feel him there.

  “What will you report, honey?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper.

  “No, you can report whatever you like, but what would that be, honey?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper again.

  “Honey?”

  “Not my name,” I say, trying to steady my voice.

  “Tell whoever you like that I stroked my cock, and it turned you on. Didn't it, honey?”

  His voice is deep and throaty.

  “You don't have to speak, honey. You can nod your head if you like. Now, let's try this again. When you report me, tell them I stroked my cock in front of you, and it soaked your joggers. Tell them it made your pussy throb to the point you wanted to touch yourself.”

  I'm breathing heavier than normal; he's so close. His lips are less than an inch away from mine. With my eyes still closed, I can feel the sweat that has built up on my forehead dripping. I briefly open my eyes, and oh my god, sweat drops from my forehead, and lands on his lips. He licks his lips, holds his head back, and closes his eyes.

  “If your pussy tastes anything like your sweat, I'll exhaust your body from my mouth alone.”

  “Hmmm.” Where did that sound come from? Shit. Was that me?

  “See, your body is confessing.” He moves back and puts his luscious cock in his trunks. “Go ahead, tell them I turned you on to the point you'll have to go home and pleasure yourself in the shower. Clearly, either you don't have a boyfriend or he isn't taking care of those inner thighs. Either way, the body doesn’t lie. When you're ready, I'll let you tell me all your naughty secrets,” he says, as he walks backwards, cocky as hell. That's when I get a look at his body; the man's body is flawless. He has no tattoos, and his body is cut. His abs form that V-shape right at his shorts’ waistline. My mouth is watering, and I feel the need to speak.

  Before I can say a word, pool guy backs out the door and winks as he adjusts himself. I sigh with relief but can't believe what just happened. I tell myself I'm going to wait a few minutes before leaving. I peek out the door of the sauna room and no one is in the locker room.

  No fucking way, no one saw that ass come in here? Shaking my head, I walk toward the front desk.

  Who does he think he is? I'm reporting his ass all right! As I make my way to the front desk, I look around trying to spot a manager.

  “Can I help you, ma'am?”

  “Uhh, yes, can I speak to a manager? I’d like to report an incident.”

  “Okay, wait right here, ma'am.”

  “Where the hell am I going?” I say.

  The front desk clerk side-eyes me as she walks away. I give her attitude right back.

  “Just a second.”

  She comes back with the manager. “Can I help you, ma'am?”

  “Do you think I'm much older than you?” I say in an annoyed tone.

  “Uhmm, okay. I'm Bruce, the manager. What can I
do for you? Crystal mentioned you wanted to report an incident?”

  Just as I start to explain, pool guy strolls by with his arrogant smirk and a beanie over his hair. He looks as if he just showered; and I swear, in slow motion, this guy licks his lips and duck face kisses me. WHAT THE HELL? I lose all train of thought just then.

  Why has this man affected me this way? He continues out the door.

  “You didn't just see that”? I ask Bruce.

  He and Crystal, the front desk chick, turn around and then back at me. They shake their heads in unison.

  “You didn't just see that guy?”

  “Well, we saw him leave.” Bruce shrugs. “That's it.”

  “He gestured at me.”

  “Is that whom your incident was with?” he asks as he points his thumb behind him toward the door.

  “Uhh, yeah,” I say sarcastically. “Yes, yes it was. Can we call the police?”

  “I'm sorry, Miss?” He gestures his hands.

  “Watts,” I say in a stern, high, and irritated voice.

  “I'm sorry, Ms. Watts. We didn't see anything Mr. King did.”

  “Mr. King?” I scrunch my nose. “So you know the guy?”

  “Well, yeah, he's sort of a silent owner of the club. Hell, the chain of clubs.”

  “Are there cameras in this place?”

  “Well, I can't answer that,” Bruce says as he breaks eye contact with me.

  “I take that as a yes. Is there one in the sauna, steam room, whatever?” I'm talking hysterically now.

  “No, I can confirm that,” Bruce says.

  “You know what, never mind, don't even worry about it. I'd like to cancel my membership.”

  “Okay, Ms. Watts, let's look at your account. Cancellation fees are required, and it looks as if you've only been a member for seven months and attended at total of...” he trails off.

  “Does any of this matter?” I interrupt.

  “Well, I guess it doesn't, if you’re cancelling. Usually, we give prorated cancellation fees to members who’ve been with us for at least a year; and since this is a two-year contract…” He's still talking. I feel like I'm in the episode of ‘Friends’ where Chandler and Ross attempt to cancel their health club memberships.

  “Yeah, that's fine; I just want to cancel.”

  “If there is anything we can do to convince you to stay with us...”

  “Can you buy pool guy, uhh… Mr. King, out of his ownership?”

  “Well, no, of course not,” he says.

  “Well, no,” I scoff. “Of course not.”

  “Well then, Ms. Watts, you will be charged the one hundred seventy-five dollars, which you should see on your monthly statement, and you're sure that we can't...”

  “Uhmm, no, but thank you. I'm sure I can find another gym.”

  “Good luck,” he says.

  “Yeah, well, fuck you,” I mumble.

  Monday. It's only fudging Monday.

  CHAPTER 3

  The remainder of the workweek is slow; my boss is M.I.A., that isn’t normal for him. I usually catch him after the weekly financial meeting; he was pre-occupied with other business. He did give me a card and chocolate-covered berries. He knows the way to my heart. My week is complete. Except, I haven't heard from Bryant nor have I found a replacement health club. This Mr. King is apparently, someone to know. Wait, no he's not. Out of all the health clubs, I picked the one big-ass chain that he is involved with.

  I'll just cut back on fatty foods, and I'll run three times a week. Maybe I should buy a treadmill, that way I won't have to leave the house. “Hahaha.” I had to laugh at that myself. I am in no-way getting a treadmill or running. Good thought process though.

  I'm pulled out of my thoughts when my boss rings my phone. “Hey, boss, what can I help you with today?”

  “Hello, Bria, can you come to my office. I have something to discuss with you.”

  Oh, shit, I hope this isn’t about what I saw or heard on Monday night.

  “Okay, boss, do I need to take notes?”

  “Yeah, it wouldn't hurt.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right in.”

  I slowly walk to Mr. Wilke's office, and I'm nervous. He can't terminate me… can he? Hell yeah, he can; this is his company. I didn't do anything to cause me to be fired. I tap my pen on the side of my leg as I move closer to his office. Trying to prolong the inevitable, I pause at his door before entering.

  “Hi, Mr. Wilke, you've been busy.” He looks up.

  “Busy is an understatement, love. You know I've been going through this merger, and Bryant has purchased one of the failing companies?”

  “I knew he was purchasing a company, but I didn't know you were involved. Is that the reason I haven't heard from him?”

  “Yes, probably,” he states. “He's a business genius; the financial plan he has set forth for that company is, by far, the most creative plan I've ever encountered. It will capitalize within a year with his plan, and you know Bryant. He doesn't hold on to anything that long.”

  I say quietly to myself, “Yeah, don't I know it?”

  “But that's not what I called you here for.”

  “Okay.”

  “You know you have a real talent for organizing and planning things and such.”

  “Okay” is all I manage to say.

  “My wife was really impressed with her suite set-up and dinner date. She said it was her fantasy come true.”

  “Good, great! I’m glad you two enjoyed it.” I wiggle my eyebrows up and down.

  “Oh, no, love. It was for her and whichever flavor of the month she’s jockeying now.”

  My mouth hits the floor.

  “What, Bria? You had to have known my wife and I have separate sex lives.”

  My mouth is still open. I’m in awe. “Mr. Wilke, I can’t listen to this. I can’t.”

  “Bria, love, you’re an adult, and I know you have a sex life. You’re beautiful, sexy as sin, and your rack is just—”

  “BOSS!”

  “What? Okay, listen. In reality, I’d do you, but Bryant would have my head.”

  “Boss, you can’t say that to me.”

  “Bria, seriously? Do I ever sugarcoat anything?”

  “No, but we have a level of professionalism.”

  “And a personal level too, Bria. I’m sure you saw some of my assets. I know for a fact you heard them.” He lets out a grunted laugh. I am now blushing, and I can’t believe I’m having sexual conversations with my boss. The man who pays me quite well, on and off the books, is talking sex. It hits me right then; it’s hush money. Oh, my GOD! I’m being paid to stay quiet. My face feels hot; I know I’m cherry apple red by now.

  He pushes away from his desk, and folds his hands on his lap, and he continues to speak. I’m only half listening, because the thought of hush money makes me feel guilty.

  “Bryant loves you to the point, where even I can’t interfere with that,” he confesses.

  “Huh? Wait, what?”

  My boss eyes me. “You honestly don’t know? Bryant is in love with you?”

  “Bryant isn’t in love with me; we’re very close friends.”

  “I’d say,” Mr. Wilke replied.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Bria, I’m not blind. Bryant adores you, and he isn’t willing to sacrifice your friendship.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Who do you think told him to hit that?”

  “Oh, my God! Mr. Wilke!”

  “What? You were a bit bitchy; and when I mentioned I might be interested, he threatened me.”

  “He threatened you?”

  “Hell yeah, he did, with a beer bottle and a quarter. He was a bit drunk, so I only half believed him,” he says matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders.

  I’m confused and red in the face. My boss sits across from me with a confident grin as if he’s just won the man of the year award. His smile says something, like he knows more than he’s telling. It’s actually a turn on
, his confidence. He definitely has a lot to be confident about.

  I shake my head. “You’re wrong about Bryant.”

  “Am I?” he replied.

  “Yes, you are. He’s too focused on his business to want anything but success in his life right now. He needs no distractions.”

  “It’s probably just what he needs, Bria; someone to stand with him during this stressful shit. Look at me and the missus, she holds all the cards, and until she’s ready to fold, she’s right here.”

  “But you guys—”

  “Don’t fuck? Excuse me, aren’t intimate? We are; we both just have certain needs.”

  “I don’t even want to know.”

  “Oh, I think you do, you’re afraid of the response.”

  “No, no. I get it.”

  “You’re smart. I’m sure you have some idea. With the way you arrange our meetings, you have an imagination.” He winks.

  “Which reminds, Mr. Wilke, I can’t accept the bonus I just received. I feel—”

  “You can, and you will,” he says, as he interrupts my confession.

  “I can’t, Mr. Wilke; it just feels like—”

  “Like what, Bria?” He side-eyes me.

  I fidget with my nails because now I’m uncomfortable.

  “Come on, Bria, like what? What does it feel like?”

  “Like, hush money.” I wince.

  He lets out a throaty laugh. “It is, Bria.” My eyes go big as doorknobs.

  “Boss, why? You know I’m not going to disclose any information about you.”

  “Not my idea, it’s the missus.”

  “Still, why? Did you defend me to her?”

  “Don’t have to, Bria. She knows you’re loyal. It’s just where she comes from; it’s better to look out for those who hold certain cards. Her family is just too well known.”

  “I mean I get it, but where I’m from loyalty trumps all. My dad always taught me never to accept monetary gifts. It’s a sign of disrespect. It’s like accepting something that’s not yours to begin with.”

  “It must be that Italian blood, running through your veins?”

  “Yeah and part Native American.”

  “Ahh, that explains the disrespect. Well, I can take the check back, but my wife is full Greek. She’ll have a coronary, and I’ll be back in the doghouse you just got me out of. You don’t want her mad at either of us, do you?”