Descendants.

I had somehow managed to convince Harry that our current arrangement was really the best of both worlds. We got to experience earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex without any of the complications that came from being involved in a hardcore relationship. And boy, had we been experiencing the earth shattering lately. I’d hardly slept more than three hours a night for the past week.

He’d come over late, after he went out with the boys, and he’d keep me up way past my normal bedtime. I decided to cut back on the amount of time I spent at the clubs when I’d started my new job. Most of the guys understood, but Niall had complained that I needed to just suck it up. I’d have plenty of time to sleep when they left the country again.

I’d finally kicked Harry out somewhere around 4:15am this morning, and had barely drifted off back to sleep when my alarm blared. It wasn’t quite the weekend yet, and I needed to get up and head into the office. I contemplated throwing it against the nearest wall, but opted for hitting the snooze button a couple of times instead.

At the very last possible second, I rolled out of bed. Throwing my hair into a bun at the top of my head, I grabbed the nearest clean dress hanging in my closet and slipped it on, hoping there weren’t too many noticeable wrinkles. Ironing was not on my list of things to do this morning. I slipped a pair of red flats on my feet, dabbed a bit of concealer on the dark circles under my eyes, threw on my glasses instead of trying to mess with my contacts, grabbed my purse, and headed out to the office.

Stepping off the elevator to the third floor where my office was located, I stopped at the front desk to talk to Georgia and grab my messages from the day before.

“Good thing you don’t have a meeting this morning.” She handed me a cup of coffee with my name written on the side in black Sharpie. “You look like dog shit.”

“Thank you for the coffee.” I took a sip, grateful that she somehow always knew when I was going to need the extra pick-me-up. “And thank you for your unwanted opinion.” I grumbled.

“Someone’s in a sour mood this morning. No beautiful singer occupying your bed last night?” She smirked. I was starting to regret telling her about our situation.

“No, no one in my bed last night. However,” I smirked back. “There was someone on my kitchen counter very, very early this morning… And then in my shower… On my coffee table… Against the dresser in the bedroom… And back in the shower again.”

Her mouth dropped open as she held her hand out for a high-five. Chuckling at her response, I returned her high-five before spinning around and walking directly into Blake Majors, my coffee jumping out of my hand and landing all down the front of his perfectly steamed white button-down shirt.

My eyes got wide and my hand flew to cover my mouth.

“Mr. Majors.” I started, looking around in hopes of finding a stack of paper towels. Or, if the gods really wanted to smile on me, a new white shirt that would somehow perfectly fit my boss. “I am so sorry. I really should pay more attention.”

Hooking his index finger and making a ‘follow me’ gesture, he spun on his heel and walked towards his office. I glanced over my shoulder at Georgia, a ‘you’re in deep trouble’ look written all over her face.

“Good luck,” she mouthed.

I followed him into his spacious corner office, with the gigantic, gorgeous view of the city behind him. Closing the door behind me, I stood off to the side as he unbuttoned his coffee stained shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. I would have to be sure to mention at tonight’s Happy Hour with the girls that Mr. Blake Majors was sporting some serious muscle under those stuffy work shirts.

We all knew his face was handsome, but I wasn’t betting that his body would be even better to look at.

“How are things, Miss Addison?” His voice brought me back to reality.

“Things are good. I mean, as far as I know things are good. Why? Have you heard differently?” I could hear the panic start to rise. Blake pulled a new shirt out of the tall dresser that stood at the back of his office. Of course he kept extra shirts at work. Shrugging it onto his body, he began buttoning it up, turning around to face me.

I could see the humor dancing in his eyes.

“No, Miss Addison.” He started.

“Blair.” I stopped him. “Please, it’s Blair.”

“No, Blair.” He continued. “I haven’t heard anything other than stellar reviews of your work. You seem to be doing very well for yourself here. You just look a little frazzled today. I was asking out of concern. Are you okay?”

“Have you ever tried to put together a puzzle, Mr. Majors, where the only pieces that you have left are the wrong ones?”

He gave me a perplexed look while he contemplated the question. I kept going, without waiting for his response.

“My life is like this insane puzzle. And I’m just trying to work with what I have. I’m doing okay, though. Thank you for asking. I assure you, I will not come in sporting this look again anytime soon.”

“Is one of these puzzle pieces you’re working with a husband? Or, a boyfriend perhaps?” His question, in the text of a boss asking an employee, was completely inappropriate. But he didn’t apologize or retract the question. He stood, all of his clothing back in its rightful place, with an unmatched level of confidence. I shook my head, a slight blush staining my cheeks.

“No. Uh, no husband. Or boyfriend.”

“Good.” He nodded, more to himself than to me. “How would you feel about having dinner with me tomorrow night?”

Notes

Chapter Title lyrics: "Love Song for No One" by John Mayer.