His Basement, His Office - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading His Basement, His Office, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of His Basement, His Office.
My shift finally ended, and I checked my phone to find a SnapChat from Maxwell.
[Maxwell: Got plans after work?]
I typed back honestly, [Yeah.]
His reply came instantly.
[Maxwell: What's on the agenda tonight?]
I ducked my head, thumbs flying. [Gotta finish that drama I started yesterday.]
[Maxwell: …That's not exactly what I meant.]
Oh. Oops. [Ah—right. No plans, then.]
[Maxwell: Come downstairs. Dinner's on me.]
I practically threw my stuff into my bag and bolted for the elevator.
Outside the office, Maxwell leaned against his car door, all sharp suit and effortless cool, turning heads without even trying. Oblivious, he just scrolled through his phone until I skidded to a stop in front of him, breathless.
"Made it, Maxwell."
He hesitated, like there was something he wanted to say, but just nodded. "Get in."
The Japanese place he took me to was tucked away, the kind of spot you'd never find on your own. One bite of their sushi, and my crappy day melted away.
Maxwell watched me wipe my mouth. "Done?"
I nodded. He checked his watch, cleared his throat. "So. There's something I need to say."
"Shoot."
He fidgeted with his collar—weird for someone usually so composed.
"I… I just—"
Now I was nervous. "Yeah?"
His gaze locked onto mine, dead serious. "I like you. You can say no, but I'm not giving up."
My brain blue-screened. Mouth open. No words.
Chaos. Did I like him back? No clue. All I managed was, "I—I need time to think," before booking it out of there.
One last glance back: Maxwell looked like I'd kicked his puppy.
I hardened my heart and left.
For days, no Maxwell in my dreams. At work, he still drove me, but the hugs stopped.
Then Mom called. "Dinner with someone nice. Escort them home."
I agreed, then texted Maxwell:
[11:10 PM]
[Got a dinner thing tonight. Don't wait for me.]
No reply. I sighed and pocketed my phone.
The restaurant was fancy. The woman across from me—Vanessa—cut to the chase: "Fifteen-K a month. Two houses. One car. Six-figure savings."
Under her expectant look, I mumbled, "Caleb. Thirteen-K. One house, one car… hundred grand saved?" (More like fifty-something, but close enough.)
She smiled. "Not bad. Let's eat."
I forced a smile back. The food might as well have been cardboard—something felt off.
After dropping her off, I fumbled with my keys—then a handkerchief clamped over my mouth.
Huh. Smelled nice. Like Maxwell's cologne. I inhaled deeper… and woke up chained in a basement, a collar around my neck.
Maxwell crouched in front of me, stubbled and reeking of cigarettes, eyes dark.
"Maxwell—what the hell?"
"Didn't want to do this," he said, voice icy. "But ‘thinking it over' while dating behind my back?"
His grip on my chin hurt. Then his mouth was on mine, rough and claiming.
When he pulled away, I was dazed, lips tingling.
"Since you're so eager to replace me," he hissed, "let's see you try from here."
The door slammed behind him.
I stared at the chains.
…Since when were his kisses better than his hugs?
[Maxwell: Got plans after work?]
I typed back honestly, [Yeah.]
His reply came instantly.
[Maxwell: What's on the agenda tonight?]
I ducked my head, thumbs flying. [Gotta finish that drama I started yesterday.]
[Maxwell: …That's not exactly what I meant.]
Oh. Oops. [Ah—right. No plans, then.]
[Maxwell: Come downstairs. Dinner's on me.]
I practically threw my stuff into my bag and bolted for the elevator.
Outside the office, Maxwell leaned against his car door, all sharp suit and effortless cool, turning heads without even trying. Oblivious, he just scrolled through his phone until I skidded to a stop in front of him, breathless.
"Made it, Maxwell."
He hesitated, like there was something he wanted to say, but just nodded. "Get in."
The Japanese place he took me to was tucked away, the kind of spot you'd never find on your own. One bite of their sushi, and my crappy day melted away.
Maxwell watched me wipe my mouth. "Done?"
I nodded. He checked his watch, cleared his throat. "So. There's something I need to say."
"Shoot."
He fidgeted with his collar—weird for someone usually so composed.
"I… I just—"
Now I was nervous. "Yeah?"
His gaze locked onto mine, dead serious. "I like you. You can say no, but I'm not giving up."
My brain blue-screened. Mouth open. No words.
Chaos. Did I like him back? No clue. All I managed was, "I—I need time to think," before booking it out of there.
One last glance back: Maxwell looked like I'd kicked his puppy.
I hardened my heart and left.
For days, no Maxwell in my dreams. At work, he still drove me, but the hugs stopped.
Then Mom called. "Dinner with someone nice. Escort them home."
I agreed, then texted Maxwell:
[11:10 PM]
[Got a dinner thing tonight. Don't wait for me.]
No reply. I sighed and pocketed my phone.
The restaurant was fancy. The woman across from me—Vanessa—cut to the chase: "Fifteen-K a month. Two houses. One car. Six-figure savings."
Under her expectant look, I mumbled, "Caleb. Thirteen-K. One house, one car… hundred grand saved?" (More like fifty-something, but close enough.)
She smiled. "Not bad. Let's eat."
I forced a smile back. The food might as well have been cardboard—something felt off.
After dropping her off, I fumbled with my keys—then a handkerchief clamped over my mouth.
Huh. Smelled nice. Like Maxwell's cologne. I inhaled deeper… and woke up chained in a basement, a collar around my neck.
Maxwell crouched in front of me, stubbled and reeking of cigarettes, eyes dark.
"Maxwell—what the hell?"
"Didn't want to do this," he said, voice icy. "But ‘thinking it over' while dating behind my back?"
His grip on my chin hurt. Then his mouth was on mine, rough and claiming.
When he pulled away, I was dazed, lips tingling.
"Since you're so eager to replace me," he hissed, "let's see you try from here."
The door slammed behind him.
I stared at the chains.
…Since when were his kisses better than his hugs?
End of His Basement, His Office Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to His Basement, His Office book page.