His Unexpected Baby by Jamie Knight

Chapter Eight - Skye

I was ready for disaster. I really didn’t know how I was going to face Simon after the dirty thoughts I had had about him the night before. At least not without my face feeling like it was on fire. That wasn’t a rare experience for me, but it also wasn’t something I looked forward to having happen.

The morning was cold, the ground was snowy, the bus was late, and the bridge was amazing, as per usual. All seemed to be right with the world. Maybe things would turn out great, after all.

I could smell the bakery from about a block away, the fans turned up to 11, or so it seemed. The donut gambit hadn’t gone very well but Simon had encouraged me to try again. I just had to stick at it and things would start to look up.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was driving me so hard to make friends. The social imperative was certainly a factor and possibly the only one. Which gave me pause to wonder why.

Wouldn’t life be so much easier if a human didn’t tend to go into crushing despair when in social isolation?

“Hello again,” said the girl behind the counter.

“Hiya.”

“Another dozen donuts?”

“I thought about it but decided to take a wild risk,” I informed her. “Make it a dozen caramel éclairs.”

“Radical,” the girl said, shaking her head.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“You said it!”

Holding my newly acquired booty with both arms, I forged ahead to my destination, now feeling even more hopeful for future things to come.

“Donuts?” Sam asked, once I approached the building.

“Éclairs,” I said, as I signed the book.

It was such an old-fashioned thing to do, and kind of a pain that slowed me down every morning on my way in, but I was already starting to enjoy the tradition.

“Oh, upping the game, eh?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Good luck,” he said, with a friendly wink.

My mood considerably brightened, I strode to the elevator, feeling like I could face almost anything.

“Éclairs?” Inga asked, as I passed the reception desk.

“Exactly,” I said, confidently, as I handed her one.

“Good call.”

I was the first non-clerical worker there again. My enthusiasm for punctuation was putting me well ahead of the day. I gave a moment’s thought to hanging around, waiting for everyone else, or anyone else, to show up, so that they could see me doing my wondrous deed of kindness. Then I realized what a giant load of bullshit that was, and put the box down on the table before turning to leave.

“Howdy, stranger.”

Shit.

My face turned into a raging inferno, my cheeks blushing red. Simon was so handsome that I could die. Especially after what I had imagined us doing. I could still feel his imagined touch on my body.

“Hi,” I managed weakly, my eyes fixed on the most interesting carpet in the world.

“Donuts?”

“Éclairs.”

“Impressive.”

“Thanks?”

It wasn’t the strongest praise in the world, but I would take what I could get. Especially under the circumstances. As the department head, Simon was really the person I needed to impress if I wanted to stay here permanently. Though, if I was honest, with myself as much as anyone, future career opportunities were not the only reason I wanted to impress Simon.

I realized how silly that was. He could well be married with a couple of kids. A handsome guy like him, particularly at his age— I would have been surprised if it weren’t the case. Still, I held out hope.

Hope for what, I wasn’t quite sure. I just knew I had a need I wanted him to satisfy. I may have been a chaste little virgin, but that was mostly by training. My mind, getting freer by the day, wandering to new and interesting places, wanted not only sex but a particular kind of sex.

‘Kink’ was the contemporary, polite descriptor, although my folks had some other, more colorful words. I couldn’t quite explain it, the words not being part of my vocabulary at the time, but I wanted him to take me.

To be completely under his power.

I wanted him to hurt me but also to give me pleasure.

It sounded crazy but it was true.

I wanted to be his to do with as he liked.

“How are things going?” Simon asked pleasantly. “With the manuscript, I mean.”

“Almost done. I only have about a hundred pages left,” I said.

“Good,” he said, sounding well and truly impressed.

“I’m a fast reader,” I murmured, as though if I raised my voice, he might pop out of my life like a bubble.

It was true. One of the advantages of having books for friends, in addition to learning how to read at an early age, was that I soon got to a level of proficiency that allowed me to polish off a mid-sized novel in a day or two.

On the upside, there was enough money in my allowance to keep me supplied. To stop complaints about there being books all over the house, I had opted for digital editions, usually EPUB, on my tablet. I especially liked the type of file where the pages actually looked like they were turning and imitated the sound of the paper scraping which was a nice touch.

It was a silly little feature, but I appreciated it. I felt like it got me closer to the real thing.

“And how about here at the office, how are things going?” Simon pressed. “Getting along with everyone?”

“In a way,” I said.

“In a way?”

“There hasn’t been any conflict.” I shrugged. “So that’s good. We all just get on with our work.”

“True,” Simon conceded.

“I’d like to make friends, or at least acquaintances, but I don’t want to force it. I know it won’t work that way.”

“Very wise.”

“Sam and Inga seem nice,” I tried.

“Oh, they are. Inga can be a bit of an odd duck, but she can also be really fun and interesting, given the right context. Just don’t ever mention tacos around her.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Bad experience, trust me. Donairs are likely best avoided as well.”

“Noted,” I said, with a cheeky little salute.

His smiled, giving me pause. Then he winked, setting off another flood south of my border. I tried to play it cool, but fuck if blue flickering flames of desire didn’t light up in my eyes. I was fairly sure he could see them.

Simon had to go back to work, which saved me the risk of any further embarrassment, even though I was fairly sure he was low-key flirting with me. I really didn’t have enough experience to know for sure, but that was what it seemed like.

Regaining the use of my legs, I went to my cubicle, the manuscript in my case, planning to get it done before lunch.

But there was something else on my desk.

It didn’t look like much.

Small and square, wrapped in bright green seasonal wrapping paper.

There were carefully folded pieces of paper taped to the top, looking like a bit of origami. My first name was written on it in tight, precise handwriting. The deep black ink stood out bold against the high fiber paper, clearly written with a fountain pen, if not a quill.

Pulling it firmly off, careful not to rip the rest of the packaging, I unfolded the paper, which turned out to be a note. Composed in the same fine hand in pitch black ink, it informed me that the gift was from my Secret Santa and also that it was one of many more to come. Folding up the note and putting it into my pocket to keep, I started on the gift.

Using the approach that I’d been taught as a kid, I lifted each of the edges and then along the middle. Folding down one side and then the other, I revealed a distinctive blue box. The company name was printed on the lid in black.

Tiffany & Co.

I just stared at it, assuming there must be some kind of mistake. I got the pieces of paper back out and double-checked the name written on the other side of them. It was definitely my name and I didn’t think there were any other Skyes in the department. I thought I would have noticed.

Approaching the box like it might bite, I lifted the lid. Were I not in the cubicle, I likely would have fallen down from the way I backed up so fast. Sitting in the box were two of the most beautiful sapphires I had ever seen. Even better, they were set into solid silver backings, constituting a pair of earrings.

I had seen the earrings before. Not in reality, of course, but just an image of them online. I really liked sapphires and would sometimes look them up just to admire their beauty. I could have never afforded them, though. The set on my desk ran upwards of $10,000.

I had definitely lucked out in the Secret Santa Department.

And I couldn’t help but hope I knew who mine was.