The typewriter made a pleasant ding as Kitty hit ‘return’ for the final time and pulled the completed letter free of the platen.

Crossing her legs and leaning back in her chair, she skimmed the result of her efforts with a keen eye. Well done. Professional, informative, brief, yet polite. No typos that she could see. Yes, well done.

She set the letter aside and cast a wry glance at the door of Liam's office. Still closed.

Kitty sighed. It was late. Dusk had come and gone well over an hour ago. Everyone else had left for the night. Headed home, or to the Broken Crown pub. Like a good secretary, Kitty remained. Awaiting the reemergence of her employer.

But the office door stayed shut.

Kitty drummed her fingernails on the surface of the desk. Liam's behavior always tended to be a bit taciturn and secretive. She'd long since learned to take that in stride. But today it was exceptionally so.

Following his mysterious ‘lunch appointment,’ he'd strode through the doors of Mercer Industries gone two in the afternoon, a look of distraction on his habitually solemn face. He hadn't communicated that he'd be away so long, and once he'd returned, he offered no word of explanation. No word at all. Not so much as a bloody “hello.” Instead, he'd gone into his office, shut the door, and remained there for the rest of the day.

Kitty looked up at the clock on the wall and heaved another sigh. “Alright, Will,” she muttered, getting to her feet. “That's enough games for one day, thank you.”

Collecting the afternoon's most crucial messages, she walked to his office door and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

Nothing.

Alarm and irritation nipped at her mind in equal parts, and she opened the door a crack. “Liam?” she called.

When he neglected to answer again, she passed through the doorway and walked into his office.

Liam was seated at his desk by the far wall, eyes unfocused, a tall glass of whiskey held in a slackened grip.

Kitty approached, messages in hand. “Would it kill ya to answer? Thought you'd offed yo'self in here,” she joked in a humorless voice. “Somethin' on your mind?”

He didn't look in her direction, or even acknowledge that she'd come into the room. At last he said, “There's always somethin' on me mind, Kitty.”

She rolled her eyes covertly as she stepped up next to his chair, setting the messages and their related documents on the desktop before him. “Well, then, you can add a few more items to that list, eh? First, two more resignations this afternoon. From Bridgewater Car and Van Factory. The two workers resigning wouldn't come out and say as much, but I got the impression they were headin' over to Gallagher Automotive Factory. ‘Better wages,’ they said.”

Kitty braced herself for the riptide of anger that was sure to come. But it didn't. There was no reaction at all. Taken aback, she asked, “Did ya hear me, Liam?”

Liam blinked and took a sip of his whiskey. “Aye. Lost two more. Possibly to Gallagher. I heard ya. What else?”

Kitty shook her head, bewildered. The last time they'd lost two workers in one day to the competition, Liam had been spitting mad, growling obscenities about the indecency of employee poaching and declaring that James Gallagher's factory was in danger of burning down.

“Al— alright,” she stammered. “What else... You received several more RSVPs regarding your fundraiser benefit for the Clementine Mercer Institute. It will be well attended, no surprise. Should be able to get some gaudy donations.”

“Mmm,” came the absent reply. “Good.”

Kitty huffed. So, he wouldn't be reacting to any news today, unpleasant or otherwise. Well, that was nice.

“Anythin' else, Kitty?”

“Yes,” she said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. “Ransom rang. Twice.”

“Ransom?”

“Ransom, yes,” Kitty said, putting her hands on her hips. “Ransom Mercer. Your brother. Was in earlier. You remember him, don't ya?”

“What'd he want?”

“He asked that you get back to him. Though, at this hour, he'll be at the Broken Crown.”

“I'm sure.”

Kitty took a step closer, preparing to make a verbal jab about Liam's lack of interest in his own affairs, but she held her tongue when she saw what he was holding. A small framed photograph of his late wife. His thumb traced gentle circles around the tiny image of her face.

He wasn't disinterested. He was aggrieved. Episodes like this had been common a year ago, but not so much lately. What had brought this one on? Could it be the benefit? That sort of hoity-toity social gathering had been more Clementine's forté than his.

“Liam,” Kitty said, adopting a softer, more gracious tone. “Is it Clementine? Is she what's on your mind?”

He dipped his head in an absent nod. “And all my mistakes regardin' her. And all my fuck-ups since. Aye.”

“You're too hard on yo'self,” Kitty murmured. She ran her hand gently across the tops of his shoulders in what she hoped was a gesture of comfort. “Why now? What made you think of her today?”

“Recent events,” Liam answered vaguely. “Some things have happened these past few days that brought her to the forefront of me mind. That's all.” He picked up his glass of whiskey and lifted it to his lips. “Drink, Kitty?”

“I think you've had enough for the both of us,” she replied, eyeing the half empty decanter on his desk. “Liam, will you be alright?”

“Yes,” he answered. Without looking up from the photograph, he finished off his whiskey and set the glass aside. “I will be. I can be.”

Unsure what to say, Kitty squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter. She was always at a loss for words when it came to Clementine's death and the events that followed. Liam was notoriously tight-lipped about his late wife, making it difficult for any third party to offer condolences that he didn't find offensive.

Suddenly, Liam pivoted in his chair and set the framed picture of Clementine on the desk, face down. His arms found their way around Kitty's waist, and he pulled her flush against his chest, laying his head on the breast of her frock.

The unexpected show of affection startled her, and Kitty inhaled a sharp breath. The embrace tightened, and she allowed her eyes to close. She knew she should protest, ask for clarification, do something other than consent…but she didn't. It felt so good to be in his arms again. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Even if the affection was fueled by liquor and regret.

“I'm here, Liam,” she soothed, stroking the back of his neck. “Just tell me what ya want me to do.”

After several seconds, he stood, his arms still wrapped tightly around her waist. He inhaled slowly along her neck, taking in her scent, then leaned in and dragged his lips across the apple of her cheek, causing her breath to hitch.

“Distract me, Kitty,” he murmured. “I want you to distract me.”

His whispered words lit a fire in Kitty's belly. There was nothing in this world she wanted more than to distract him from his torment. To distract him from his irreproachable wife. Both to ease his sorrow, and, if she was perfectly honest with herself, to satisfy a very primal need within her.

She wanted to distract him. And she could. As she had so many, many times in the past. Before Clementine. Before her services had been deemed no longer necessary.

But even as she smoothed her hands beneath the lapels of his suit jacket and allowed her palms to run the length of his chest, a niggling doubt festered at the back of her mind.

“You sure that's not the whiskey talkin'?” she asked, leaning into him.

His hands meandered down her sides to squeeze her hips. “Y'know me better than that, Kitty.”

“You might resent me for it tomorrow,” she whispered, her lips against his ear. “Distraction has its purpose, but it doesn't solve anythin', does it? Not really. Are you sure this is what you want?”

No verbal response came, but he nodded as he brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck below her ear. Such a weak spot for her. And he knew it.

The action, subtle as it was, caused Kitty's skin to ripple. She eased his suit jacket off his strong shoulders and let it fall to the floor. With nimble fingers, she made short work of the buttons on his waistcoat, and that garment soon met the same fate as its matching jacket.

“This is probably a mistake, y'know,” she murmured. She knew it was true, but still wanted him to argue the point. They used to fuck in his office all the time, but that was not their relationship anymore. Now they were secretary and employer. However, Liam's interpretation of time wasn't always logical or linear. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, and little could deter him. And at that moment, Kitty wanted him to want her.

“Mmm,” he hummed as his teeth grazed her earlobe.

After a few gentle tugs, his shirt was untucked, and Kitty slid her hands beneath the crisp fabric to touch the bare skin of his back. She let her lips ghost across his jawline.

“I'll do this for you,” she said. “I'd do anythin' for you, Liam. But I have to know: is it me you're seein'? Or her?”

Liam pulled back enough to meet her eye. “You, Kitty,” he whispered. “I'm seein' you.”

There were no means of proving these words to be true, but Kitty found she was inclined to believe them. Liam didn't need to lie to her. A whole world of change had occurred since the last time he'd given her three quid to get in her knickers.

They'd been through so much since then. He'd given her a job. A proper job. Changed her life. But her feelings for him had not changed.

“You're seein' me, hmm?” she asked softly. She loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar, easing the starched fabric away from his neck. “You mean, Clementine's refinement hasn't ruined you for women like me?”

Liam took her chin in his hand and fixed her with a stern look. “Let's not talk about Clementine, eh?”

“Let's not talk,” Kitty suggested.

His eyes darkened with hunger as they bored into hers, and a desirous warmth spread across her skin as his gaze meandered down her face to her lips.

How badly she wanted to kiss him. Her body absolutely ached for it. She ducked her head, pressing her lips softly to the exposed side of his neck. In response, he tilted his head to allow her unobstructed access, humming in approval as her lips caressed his skin. 

His hands gripped the small of her back, drawing their bodies closer still.

Encouraged by his touch, Kitty began to slowly open the buttons of his shirt. At first, just one. Then a second. She kissed the delicate skin beneath his earlobe, and unbuttoned a third. She grazed her lips across his collarbone. Then his jaw. Then his neck again. He shivered at her touch and shrugged off his suspenders.

Soon the shirt was unbuttoned from collar to hem, and she wrapped her arms around his torso, savoring the warmth of his body.

“How much of a distraction are ya lookin' for, Liam?” she asked.

“However much you're willin' to give me,” came the loaded reply. His hand began to delicately trace the curve of her spine, fingertips dancing up to her neck and back down to her tailbone.

He was leaving this up to her.

Kitty bit her lip, conflicted. Not so very long ago, she would have relished the opportunity to have her way with him, no money exchanged.

But now... Now it felt odd. Like he was at the mercy of too many memories and emotions to simply take what he needed, instead allowing her to decide just how far this illicit office rendezvous would go.

The soft touch of his fingers along her spine made her shiver. Kitty hummed in appreciation of the sensual contact. Eyes closed, she let her forehead rest against his. They had little in common, the two of them, but their aversion to loneliness had always been a strip of equal ground.

“Y'know there's nothin' I would deny you,” she murmured. “Whatever you want. Ask, and it's yours.”

She felt his fingers begin to open the buttons on the decolletage of her dress. “I'm not in the habit of askin' for things, Kitty,” he murmured. He eased the material off her left shoulder and pressed his lips to her bare skin.

“Tell me, then.”

“I want you.”

The dam broke. She couldn't resist any longer. Wrapping her fingers around the back of his neck, Kitty brought her lips to his in a heated, impassioned kiss.

His hand was suddenly in her hair, tugging enough to angle her face as he pleased. She felt his lips part against hers, and she deepened the kiss, their mouths moving together in remembered desire.

Liam guided her backwards until she was pressed against the wall, his arms bracketed around her body. The palm of his hand ran down the length of Kitty's side and gripped her leg just where her garter attached to the thigh-high stocking beneath her dress. He always knew where to touch her. He always knew the weakest points of her attire and body.

Kitty sighed into their kiss, biting at his lower lip. She couldn't get enough of him. His skin. His touch. His taste.

At last. After such a lengthy intermission, at last she and Liam were back where they belonged: together. Clementine had been a necessary detour in Liam's quest to bed a woman from every walk of life, but he would always come back to Kitty. If only briefly. Perhaps all they had was a day or two. Perhaps all they had was tonight. Whatever the case, she would savor every second.

His lips and tongue tasted of whiskey. As his mouth continued to move against hers, she felt her knees weaken. No one kissed her like Liam did. She'd been with so many men, but he had no equal.

Eyes closed in heady intoxication, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “Fuck, Liam,” she murmured. “I missed this.”

The fabric of her skirt lifted, and she felt his hand migrate up the outside of her thigh. His fingertips teased the skin of her hip right at the barrier of her silky undergarments, and she moaned softly into his mouth, her fingers raking through his hair.

Their lips parted long enough to suck in a much needed breath, then Liam ducked his head and fused his mouth to the curve of her neck, depositing a line of maddeningly soft kisses all the way to her ear.

Kitty sighed and allowed her head to fall back until it rested against the wall. Damn him. Damn him for knowing her so very well.

She delighted in the touch of his lips to the delicate skin of her neck. The sensation spread a lustful current through the whole of her body, and she trembled as his hands continued to roam beneath the skirt of her frock. She wrapped her exposed leg around the back of his leg, holding him fast.

“Don't stop,” she whispered. “I need you, Liam.” Her lips on the shell of his ear, she dragged her fingers down his bare chest to his waist. When her hands found the waistline of his trousers, she wrestled blindly with the buttons until she managed to unclasp them.

His hands slipped beneath the hem of her undergarments and squeezed the supple flesh of her buttocks, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from deep within her.

The bloody telephone chose that moment to ring.

Startled, they broke apart, and Kitty glared at the offending little machine where it sat on the desk. “For fuck's sake…” she cursed.

She began to disentangle herself from him, but Liam seized her wrists and pinned them against the wall. “Don't,” he commanded, his voice low. He leaned in close and ran the edge of his teeth along her lower lip. “Don't you dare answer that fuckin' phone.” 

Arousal pooled in her belly. “Might be important,” she whispered.

The telephone continued to trill.

“Then they'll ring back,” he stated. “You're off the clock.”

Her arousal mounted. This was the Liam she craved: the one who said, and did, and took what he wanted. Perhaps she hadn't changed. Not where he was concerned. She gave him a sly smile. “Be that as it may,” she countered, “I'm still your secretary.”

“Not tonight, you're not.”

“No?” Her eyebrow arched. “What am I, then, Liam?”

The ringing ceased.

He released Kitty's wrists and took her face in his hands, stroking her feverish cheeks with his calloused thumbs. “Tonight, you're mine,” he told her. Grabbing her about the waist, Liam spun her around so that her chest was pressed against the wall. “Simply mine,” he murmured into her ear as his hand traveled up the inside of her thigh. “My possession.”

“Then have me,” she surrendered.

【♜】【♞】【♟】

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ!

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ VOTE! ☆