Chapter 3

Nic felt quite proud of herself when she sat in her chair and crossed her legs. That move would have worked better if she had managed to keep those heels on, but she felt she portrayed quite the right amount of attitude with a degree of aloofness. But now she was sitting there and couldn’t breathe.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. We’re all busy, so we will get right into it. Miss Avery has provided the agenda....”

Mr Steele started the meeting with all Steele Enterprise department heads from the Security branch. They had branched into digital as well as physical security and had been doing steadily well over the years. Any other time, she would have been fascinated by what they were discussing, but today...

Was it hot in here?

She undid the top button of her blouse as she tried to take the minutes down. She should have just brought the recorder in. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

She uncrossed her legs, hoping it would somehow make the corset feel less constricting. 

“...personal security detail for such a big celebrity would...”

Wait, what? Were they providing security to a celebrity? Though that was quite a regular occurrence for Steele Security, it always involved much more planning, and Damian liked having the final say on those. Had she missed something? Did it slip her mind?

She wiped her forehead and was quite horrified to see how wet the back of her hand was. She felt like a drowning rat. She was willing to bet her pristine shirt wasn’t so pristine anymore. God, she hoped her makeup wasn’t running. She wasn’t big on makeup, so all hers was the cheap, High Street brands. Things could get quite hairy on rainy days if she forgot her umbrella. Her mascara usually ran so bad she looked like a freckled panda.

“...new security software update... beta testing complete...”

She tried to take a deeper breath. And failed. There was no denying it now. She was going to pass out. She was going to pass out in a room full of people. They would not remember how confident she looked when she walked in; they would only see a weak, swooning woman. Her whole plan would backfire.

She looked up from the unprofessional doodles she had made on her tablet with her stylus pen and straight into Mr Steele’s hazel eyes. He had a frown marring his perfect face. How could he still look so perfect when it was so hot? Maybe she should have put the air conditioner on before the meeting started. His frown deepened, and those perfect lips parted.

It took her a moment to realise she had been staring at him for a pretty long time. And it looked like he wasn’t even paying attention to the meeting, either. 

A quick look at the people gathered around the table confirmed this. Everyone was looking at her and then Mr Steele. She felt her cheeks burn as she looked back down at her tablet. How mortifying was this day turning out to be? Being caught blatantly staring at the boss one minute and the next, literally falling at his feet.

“Excuse us,” Mr Steele said, swiftly pushing his chair back and standing.

She felt too disoriented to understand what was happening and why he would get up in the middle of an important meeting. Then, somehow, he was leading her out of the conference room. Her head swam, and everything sounded quite distorted and far away. Mr Steele was talking to her. His lips moved as his hand lowered to her back while he guided her, but she couldn’t understand anything that came out of his mouth.

Then they were in his office, and he held both her arms as he stood in front of her, shouting something at her. The panic on his face would have been comical if her world wasn’t spinning so much. The last time Mr Steele had been that worried, she had been hospitalised for a little common cold. How embarrassing would it be if he called the ambulance now, and they all realised she had suffocated herself with a piece of ridiculous shapewear?

She couldn’t breathe!

The realisation knocked everything else out of her head. Panicking, she started to claw at her clothes, ready to remove this torture device. Remove it and burn it. What the hell had she been thinking when she bought it?

“What is it? Are you burning up?” Mr Steele’s panicked, distorted voice penetrated the jumbled mess in her head.

The buttons on her suit jacket weren’t opening. She pushed Mr Steele’s hands away to stumble to his desk, where she pulled a pair of scissors from his drawer.

“What are you doing?”

She clawed at her blouse, her breathing harsh and almost nonexistent.

“Cut it off,” she gasped.

“What?” he asked again.

She had no breath left to explain. She could already see the white spots dancing in her vision. Putting the scissors to her blouse, she started to hack away. It seemed Mr Steele finally understood because he took the pair of scissors from her and took over the job. The front of the jacket went first, and then the blouse under it.

He paused way too long when he saw what the problem was.

“What is—”

“Cut it!” she gasped again.

Because of its thickness and all the strings on the side, Mr Steele had to quickly strip the useless jacket and blouse off her to see what he had to do to remove the corset. It took him mere moments to start cutting the strings. She could have wept when she finally managed to take her first full breath that morning. Ripping the corset away from her body, she closed her eyes and leaned back on the massive table behind her, savouring every deep, ragged breath.

Holy shit, she could have died!

She was never listening to any of Casey’s ideas again. Who invented these things? For what reason? Never, ever again!

As her heartbeat calmed down and her breathing returned to normal, she remembered. 

And sure enough, when she opened her eyes, Mr Steele was standing in front of her with a shocked expression on his face and a pair of scissors in his hand.

Her eyes widened, and she brought her arms up to try and cover her chest as if she still had any modesty left to protect. Of all the things she had ever thought could happen to her in her lifetime, this was not one of them. She was practically naked in front of her boss. It was like those dreams where you were suddenly naked in public and everyone laughed at you, only this wasn’t a dream.

She didn’t even have her best bra on today. She was amply gifted in that area, so she always went for comfort and support instead of sexiness. So now her boss was looking directly at her favourite ancient and tattered bra. 

Looking. 

Looking and not looking away. She turned away from him, still trying to cover her chest. Never had there been a moment where she was as grateful for his solid walls as this. Their connected offices had the privacy the others didn’t have with their glass walls. Her embarrassment would have been amplified if the others had also seen what a great big tit she had made of herself.  

But the back walls were reinforced glass, and she really hoped it was true that no one outside could see in. 

“I’m so sorry,” she said.

How would she ever look him in the eye again? 

“Um. Yes, okay.”

Mr Steele cleared his throat, and she could just imagine the horror going through his mind. Here was a man who dated models and actresses—beautiful women without an ounce of fat to spare—and he had to look at her dumpy, half-naked body. Half naked, sweaty, and sticky body. Her bra was soaked! It was mortifying! Mr Steele would always see her like this in his head. How would she maintain her professionalism now? Would she have to quit?

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I think I have to go home.”

Go home and drink this day away.

“Yes. Okay,” Mr Steele repeated.

And now she had turned him into a blithering mess. Great. Somebody kill her now. She squeezed her eyes shut as the torture continued. The warmth of his body behind her told her how close he was, but he wasn’t moving or saying anything. And she couldn’t leave until he had. How would she even walk out of this office? Hell, how would she walk out of this building? 

“Right. Yes, let’s go home,” Mr Steele said finally. 

She looked down at her clothes on the floor. The expensive suit she could never wear again. 

“Upstairs. I have some clothes you can borrow,” he said.

But he still didn’t move. Nic glanced at him over her shoulder and saw his gaze fixed firmly on her bottom. Was he... was he checking her out?