I Left My Earring, He’s My CEO

Chapter 3: Under the Table

"Mr. Bass?" Blair called out again, rattling the brass doorknob. "The door seems to be locked."

I shoved Harvey backward with a sudden burst of panicked strength. "Let me go!" I mouthed frantically, pointing wildly at the heavy mahogany door.

Harvey sighed, a low, frustrated sound of pure masculine annoyance. He stepped back, his eyes dark with unfulfilled promise. He smoothed down his perfectly pressed shirt, completely unfazed by the interruption.

"Sit in that chair," he ordered quietly, pointing to the leather guest chair positioned to the left of his desk. "Pull out a notepad. Act like an assistant."

I didn't argue. I scrambled into the chair, desperately smoothing down my wrinkled blazer and fixing my messy hair. I grabbed a pen and flipped open a blank notebook, my hands still shaking violently.

Harvey walked over to the door and unlocked it, pulling it open with a cold, irritated expression.

Blair stood in the doorway, striking a pose that aggressively pushed out her chest. She was carrying a stack of leather-bound portfolios in one hand and a steaming cup of espresso in the other.

"Mr. Bass," Blair purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She batted her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. "I apologize for the interruption, but I know how much corporate values efficiency. I wanted to personally deliver the seasonal design pitches for the upcoming 'Eternal Promise' collection."

Harvey didn't smile. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter. "Put them on the conference table."

Blair swaggered into the room, her hips swaying deliberately with every step of her stilettos. She placed the coffee and portfolios on the long glass conference table in the corner of the suite. She turned around with a victorious smile, ready to claim Harvey's undivided attention—until her eyes landed on me.

Her smile immediately curdled into a scowl. "Jennifer? What on earth are you doing up here? Shouldn't you be in the basement sorting through gemstone inventory?"

"I—" I stuttered, my face still flushed red.

"Miss Morris is here at my request," Harvey interrupted, his voice dropping to a glacial, intimidating tone that made Blair flinch. He walked past her and took a seat at the head of the conference table. "She is taking notes for this meeting. Have a seat, Miss Pierce."

Blair's jaw tightened in annoyance, but she quickly masked it with a dazzling smile, taking the seat to Harvey's immediate right. I quietly moved over to the seat on his left, keeping my head down and my pen poised over the paper.

"Of course, Mr. Bass," Blair cooed, leaning over the table to open the first portfolio. The plunging neckline of her scarlet dress gaped dangerously wide, putting her cleavage on full display right under his nose.

"As the Design Director, I’ve overseen the creative direction for this quarter," Blair began, tracing a manicured fingernail over a sketch of a diamond necklace. I instantly recognized the design—it was an early concept I had drafted months ago, one she had rejected as "unmarketable" before miraculously reviving it under her own name. My blood boiled, but I bit my tongue.

Harvey leaned back in his chair, his face an impenetrable mask of absolute boredom. He didn't even glance at Blair's cleavage. His dark eyes stared blankly at the portfolio.

"As you can see, my vision is all about bold, aggressive luxury," Blair continued, leaning closer to Harvey, "I like to take... control of my projects. A very hands-on approach." She let her hand casually drop from the portfolio, her fingers lightly brushing against Harvey's muscular forearm.

I gripped my pen so hard my knuckles turned white.

Harvey didn't flinch, nor did he acknowledge her touch. He simply kept staring ahead.

But suddenly, beneath the long, dark modesty tablecloth that draped over our legs, I felt something brush against my ankle.

I froze.

It was a man's hard leather dress shoe. It tapped lightly against my right ankle, testing the waters. I sucked in a sharp breath, keeping my eyes glued to my notebook. He wouldn't. Not right here. Not with Blair sitting two feet away.

I was wrong.

The shoe slowly, deliberately glided up my calf. The heat of Harvey's leg radiated through the thin fabric of my stockings.

I risked a glance at him. Above the table, Harvey looked like the epitome of a ruthless, untouchable corporate titan. His jaw was clenched tight, his expression stony and completely professional as he listened to Blair ramble on about profit margins.

But below the table, the devil was at work.

His large foot nudged my right knee, applying a firm, insistent pressure until I had no choice but to part my legs slightly.

My breath hitched audibly.

"Is there a problem, Jennifer?" Blair snapped, glaring at me. "Are my concepts too complex for you to keep up with the notes?"

"N-no," I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. "Just... clearing my throat."

Harvey didn't even blink. He slowly turned his head to look at Blair. "Continue, Miss Pierce. I'm fascinated."

Encouraged by his words, Blair practically beamed, flipping to the next page. "Well, if you look at the curvature of this band—"

Beneath the table, Harvey's shoe slid past my knee and began a slow, torturous ascent up my inner thigh.

A jolt of pure electricity shot straight to my core. I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body going rigid. The contrast between his cold, indifferent demeanor above the table and the scandalous, dirty invasion happening beneath it was driving me insane.

His shoe pressed firmly against the sensitive flesh of my upper thigh, teasing dangerously close to my center. I bit my lower lip hard to keep from moaning. My hands were trembling so badly I couldn't write a single word on the notepad.

I tried to subtly shift my chair to the left, trying to escape his reach.

Harvey effortlessly followed. He hooked his ankle around the leg of my chair and yanked it closer to him with a quiet scrape against the carpet.

Blair paused. "Did you hear something?"

"Just the building settling," Harvey replied smoothly, his voice devoid of any emotion. He turned his dark gaze toward me, his eyes hooded and gleaming with a wicked, predatory hunger.

Beneath the table, he turned his foot, pressing the hard leather toe of his shoe directly against the junction of my thighs. He applied a deliberate, crushing pressure right against my aching core.

A whimper tore from my throat. My body jerked violently in the chair.

My arm flailed out, slamming into my crystal water glass.

Crash!

The glass shattered against the edge of the conference table, sending ice water splashing all over Blair's leather portfolios and soaking the edge of my blazer.

"You clumsy i***t!" Blair shrieked, jumping up from her chair and frantically trying to wipe the water off the sketches. "Look what you've done! You ruined the presentation!"

I sat there, gasping for air, my chest heaving as my heart pounded out of control. I couldn't form a single word of apology. I was too overwhelmed by the lingering, burning heat between my legs.

Harvey casually picked up a napkin and dabbed at a stray drop of water on his wrist. He looked directly at me, a dark, wicked smirk finally breaking through his stony facade.

"Careful, Miss Morris," he murmured, his deep voice dripping with dark amusement.