A/N: Helluu everyone. I am a bit speechless at the responses I got for the last oneshot in this series and can't tell you how happy I am! Or how grateful. I hope I answered everyone privately (except the lovely guest review from sky: thank you so much!). If not... I am sorry! I hope you enjoy this oneshot as well - its written from Eric's POV. Not betaed yet!

Note: This is the fifth part in a series called The Office. Feel free to read them in the following order: The Office, The Car, The Shower and The Kitchen.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Veronica Roth does.

The Phone

I watch her stand on my porch, lips quivering but eyes determined. I don't think she knows how strong she really is and how brave, too. She is a spark in the dark – at least an electric jolt to my otherwise motionless heart. I avert my eyes from her, concentrate on the things that lay ahead because I have to be focused on it to be at my best, to be in control. The engine of my Mercedes hums softly when I turn the key, pull out of the driveway to not linger any longer in her presence that is nearly too much to handle for a man like me.

A man like me, I scoff at myself as I turn my car to drive on the interstate that is the fastest way to the airport. A man like me shouldn't have make a move like yesterday. It was one minute I gave myself to watch her get riled up about my comment, one minute I really allowed myself to look at the spitfire of a secretary I hired two years ago. And it only took her this one minute to strip me off my resolve to not touch her. To stay away from her.

My hands clench around the steering wheel. Its not her fault, though I think I want to load it on her shoulders anyway. On the shoulders of the sweet little secretary with the big eyes I stumbled over two years ago. When her application hit my desk I was of course intrigued at her vita but it wasn't the reason I decided I want her in my company. There were many women, even some men better suited for the position, with more experience in renowned companies and not as fascinating eyes for the job and I wasn't sure how to decide. That changed when she entered my office ten minutes earlier than we agreed on. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, nearly stared at her. It was the way she held herself when she entered my office, a little shy, a little too young for such an important position, but with a determination I don't think she herself was aware of. She exceeded any expectation I had after the nearly one hour talk that ended with me handing her a pen to sign the necessary papers.

I don't think anyone knows how much good she did for the company and in advance for her colleagues. I am, though and need to bite my tongue to not let her know how much I respect her for putting the needs of others above her own. My needs as well. The needs of the man she loved right from the beginning, but who didn't and doesn't deserve this love because he couldn't and can't let himself feel the emotion. At least not in the way she probably hopes for, not in the way any women really hopes for and this realization hits me nearly as hard as the sudden forefront thought a few months ago that she... means something to me.

I clench my teeth, because I need to stop thinking about her. I don't know how many times I told myself to stop it, to stop watching her, to stop staring at her, to just fire her and be done with it. Because she is the reason I feel something inside of me I don't like and I swore I would never let myself feel. I know that my reasons are shallow – and I hate myself for being afraid. But its just the way I grew up, the way I am. Vulnerability is a weakness, comes with affection for and attachment to someone or something, so feeling love as a whole is a weakness. It makes you act silly, it makes you act out of character and in the end you lose more than you thought you possessed. I am not a loser. The things I saw in her eyes let me think she isn't one, too.

Why she chooses to feel something for me then is something I cannot grasp. But maybe she tried to choose and couldn't just like I couldn't stop thinking of her. I don't even know when it started exactly. Someday in the past two years I just decided to let her in. Of course I didn't set her down and told her about my life, my past and hopes for the future, but gave her small clues, small hints every now and then and she absorbed them just like that. She earned my respect with her quick thinking and kept it with staying silent with her knowledge of me. She used it though and I don't think she knows how much I appreciate her. And again someday I started to understand her reasoning, started to realize her feelings however foreign they were to me. And in advance her actions and feelings made me think.

I hit the breaks hard when someone pulls out in front of me and clench my teeth to not curse at the idiot bringing me out of the thoughts in my mind. The clock tells me I have still thirty minutes left and don't need long to reach the airport. This stupid meeting with the company in Seattle. I don't really think it is worth my time because they will try to negotiate the prices down and I am not a person desperate enough to let anyone do that. The people working for Dauntless, for me deserve to be paid a fair salary and I won't change my morals just to expand to a region I am not interested in anyway even though the field of research they work in sounds fascinating.

I take a short look to the right, my eyes glued to the passenger seat where her small body quivered in ecstasy not even a day ago. In an ecstasy I put her in. I won't suppress the smirk at the thought, my ego purring along the engine I drive at the image in my mind. I had my share of women and they all were getting their fun out of our encounters but I think none of them was this responsive to small touches and kisses I gave. Maybe it has something to do with her feelings. Her stupid feelings – and mine too – maybe let her feel more, not with just her body, but with her heart. Maybe they make her more aware then any high passion one-night-stand could ever make someone feel.

I am not sure for the moment if I am annoyed that she didn't even tried to hide her feelings from me this morning or if I am just angry because it destroys my balance to be confronted with them and in advance with my own. I think it would be easier for both of us if yesterday – and this morning, a self-satisfied part of me whispers – hadn't happen. It would have been easier to continue living the pretense that she doesn't love me and I don't feel anything for her. But I couldn't control myself any longer and looking back at it, I wouldn't change anything as well. It would have been easier, but it would have been the coward's way to deal with something this obvious and I may be a lot of things but I am no coward. And I don't regret sleeping with her more then once, taking her with me to my house I keep anyone away from, letting her sleep next to me with the hope she still will be there when I wake up.

The parking lot at the airport isn't as crowded as I thought it would be and I find my way to the VIP slots easily enough. My hand glides over the passenger seat before I can stop it and I feel my face turn into a frown at the silly gesture. Maybe after tasting the sin I am lost in it and need another bite. But it would be better to stay away from her in the future, now that everything is difficult.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, if you would follow me?" The COE – Johanna Reyes is her name a voice that suspiciously sounds like that of my secretary – says, opening the door to the conference room and leads the suit-clad minions, male and female alike, and myself into it. The bright light is causing me a headache, the blends are pulled shut. We take our seats around a huge, oval glass desk with bottles of water, juice and lemonade placed on red and yellow serviettes on it. The room smells like it looks: new and barely used. And I know even without looking them up beforehand that they don't have any experience in the business they want to pursue worth mentioning.

Amity International is a rising star on the market. They work with Erudite – who probably recommended Dauntless as their security firm – on finding a solution for the growing need of food all around the world, their main goal to eradicate the hunger in the emerging and developing countries. Its a goal I can respect being a supporter of many aid agencies myself but by the looks of it Amity International could be a dying star not too far in the future – burning bright for a short time and decaying in the next in its individual parts. Being in business myself for the last ten years I know what to look for when visiting future partners or companies that want to hire Dauntless to update or install their security program. Its like a six sense.

A curvy woman dressed in a red suit showing off her endless legs places a hand on my arm, pulling me out of my observation, her voice suggesting when she asks:

"Do you want a coffee or a tea, Sir?" I look up at her, take my time to let my eyes linger on her inviting cleavage, her pulse, visible under her skin, quickens when I moisten my lips. It would be so easy to answer her with an innuendo or brush a part of her body to find out how she reacts. Instead I shake my head and she smiles a self-assured smile that lets her features shine. I think if I wanted to I would have no problem having her sprawled in my hotel room later, naked, wet and begging. But I don't want her because her features look false, her smile suddenly plastic and her smell is annoying. Not even her swaying hips as she goes away change my resolve in the slightest. I frown. It seems I got spoiled without even noticing.

Honestly though, I should have expected something like this. Seeing my secretary's creamy legs wrapped around my waist, her writhing body under me, the small sounds she seems to emit just for my pleasure, her reactions to my hands, her bold try to tease me... everything about her is perfection. I groan slightly, images invading my mind, my pants tightening when one picture of her throbbing pussy is accompanied by her scent and taste...

"Mr. Coulter. We would begin if you are ready?" I nod, push myself forward, elbows on the desk, face serious and ready to listen to her speech about her company, their field of research, their goals and partners, what they expect from the future. The same, not in the slightest fascinating information you can find on their homepage I reviewed before meeting with them. They should be aware that a man like me with a company like Dauntless is always prepared and informed and just cut the long-winded unnecessary speech short. But they don't and I am bored out of my mind.

I continue to pretend listening, refresh my e-mail in-box methodically every five minutes to see if anyone – maybe my secretary – has written me. But she doesn't. She keeps quiet and I shouldn't expect her to communicate with me after I just left her like that. Instead I skim through the report the financial unit send me, marking things I need to speak with them about and send a notice to the head of the unit to meet me Monday morning at nine. His reply comes two minutes later and he tells me he will send my secretary the needed information as soon as possible for her to prepare for me.

I want her to prepare something else for me... I scowl at myself, my mind in the gutter. It annoys me to no end that I can't stop thinking about her even though I should. I should stop thinking about her silent more or less confession that she in fact is in love with me – the first stupid decision she made since I got to know her. And I should stop thinking about possibilities this fact could or couldn't bring. I am torn between wishing I wouldn't had to leave her this morning so that we maybe could have worked out something – preferably after another shower... or breakfast – and the urge to cut all ties with her except the business ones. I ask myself if she thinks about the same things.

A sudden emotion spreads through me. What if she decides that she can't continue working for me? I realize slowly that making a move on her wasn't my best decision as well. At least not before I would have been sure what I want or expect. I frown slightly and the sounds around me stop for a moment. I look up in questioning faces and clear my throat.

"Go on." I lazily drawl and the presumably head of their marketing unit starts to speak. I tune him out when he presents the same already seen campaigns to raise the public interest and inwardly shake my head at their gall to prepare something like this to show someone like me.

I wish that she would write. Anything really. I want to make sure she is alright, that she got home safe and arrived at her desk sometime in the morning. The notion annoys me greatly, because it is a bold sign how attached I am to the small, petite secretary. But I don't stop my typing fingers when I write Hayes to send me some documents I already have on my laptop to have an excuse to contact my secretary indirectly, to get the calming message that she is at her desk and hasn't left Dauntless for good. He replies shortly after, stating that he doesn't know what I mean and I hoped he would say that. I tell him to reach out to Ms. Prior – because calling her Tris in a mail to someone else would give away too much – and that she should send me the documents asap.

She does, without a flaw, pointing out the crucial information the way I like them. Tris also attached a document she composed from the mail exchange I had with Amity International until this day, giving me her inside on the subject without speaking out of her position. Its fascinating that everyday things like that are suddenly so clear to me and I only now realize how much she really does, how important she really is besides being the first woman in my life that stayed in my head after having my way with her.

"Thank you for your attention." The man from the marketing unit concludes and sits down with polite clapping for his speech.

"I want you to send your presentation to my secretary." I speak up, looking him square in the eyes and he nods. I like my effect on people, though his slightly bobbing Adam's apple speaks more of fear then the respect I look for. I stand up then, make my way up to the front and see a laid back guy exchange the presentation with the one I came up with. I nod shortly in thanks and he gives me a thumbs up when he is finished. I take a short sip from my water and take a look around the table before I start to speak.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. My name is Eric Coulter, Head of Dauntless, a security company with headquarters in Chicago that has specialized throughout the years in guarding information, digital and paper-pen, with the newest technology developed by our own team of researchers..."

"Did you take a look at their presentation for their campaigns yet?" I ask her and I am relieved she doesn't sound sad or too distant. She sounds professional and I respect her even more because I think I wouldn't be able to still keep the front up if my feelings – if I had them like she has obviously – were put out in the open by the person this... love is reserved for.

"I can't believe they would offer this for such an important business meeting." She sounds incredulous and I can picture easily how her eyes glint in annoyance. Going to the mini bar I open a bottle of water and take out some cashew-nuts. I sit down, legs crossed at my ankles on the chair at the desk and stare at the screen of my laptop.

"I know. But I am not sure if we shouldn't give them a chance anyway." I answer her, small smile on my face when the end of her line falls silent.

"Are you asking for my opinion or just thinking out loud?" She asks, voice small and I just know she bites her rosy and soft full lips because she thinks and isn't sure how to react to my statement. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from groaning at the image.

"I want your opinion." I simply reply and I know I can count on her to think this through before blurting out anything stupid. I realize I trust her judgement. Its stupid and I frown slightly at my own sudden awareness. I think I am a man that is always on his guard, always highly alert and picks up more things then the normal human being because I educated myself from a young age and make it a point to stay afloat when it comes to business and knowledge. But my own feelings and her impact on me seem to not be as important – or are a too dangerous topic to consciously think about. Her voice stops my musings and I listen intently.

"Well, looking at their financial plan I think they have this really thought through, maybe even asked their partner, Erudite if I remember correctly, to plan for them. The etat they thought up for us seems reasonable enough and I don't think we have to worry too much about them negotiating to down our price. I know you worry about it. They should hire someone else for their campaigns though. I think I could come up with better slogans... and I am not even creative." I think she is really creative, remembering her sudden idea in the car but I don't point it out and concentrate on her words.

"I would suggest another meeting at Dauntless. Maybe they worked out by then what they really want from us and we could suggest certain conditions on which we would sign the contracts with them making sure they can pay for the things they want." Tris concludes and I think a moment about her plan.

"Arrange a meeting with them one month from now. I think the time will be enough for them to figure everything out and the new year's stress won't be as noticeable anymore." I say. She is silent for a moment and I am confused why.

"Alright. Think of it as done." She finally says and I hear her sigh heavily.

"Anything else I should know about? Did Edward send the information I asked for?" I ask her and I hear her shifting some papers.

"He did and I am nearly done writing the report for you. Everything else I could handle on my own, I think. But I wrote a protocol about the calls I got from Erudite for you to look through and added everytime someone called that these informations aren't necessarily the right ones giving you the opportunity to change something if you want to." She explains and her slight insecurity puts me off. It doesn't suit her.

"I am sure you didn't make a mistake, Tris." I answer her, feeling that maybe my words from this morning and my decision to not praise work I already expected to be perfect are the roots of her sudden overly careful work. But she should know by now that I am not a person that is overly outspoken with words of encouragement. I expect some things from her and everyone else from the company and if they don't meet these expectations I tell them so, if they do I will remember it in the yearly wage negotiations and if they exceed them I am open to praise and give it freely. But it is seldom the case because I know they are the best of the best and my high expectations are just and fair.

"Are you finished with your work soon?" I ask her and feel more then hear that she is slightly taken aback.

"Yes. Everyone else left already for the weekend and I just need to finish up the report for Monday. I will send it to you as soon as I am finished." She answers and again I hear the rustling of papers being browsed through.

Other then that there is silence over the line now that we talked about anything that happened throughout the day and it is uncomfortable to be quiet like this. I feel like I have to say something, to maybe address the issue at hand but I don't feel like it. Not now. I scowl at my own fear and indecisiveness, both not something I am used to or comfortable with.

"So you are alone at the office?" I ask, laying down on the bed of my hotel room and look up at the ceiling, following the patterns of the rich design with my eyes.

"Uhm...yeah." She answers and I smirk at the shakiness in her voice. A plan slowly starts to form in my mind, the heat going down to my abdomen strengthening my resolve to try how far she would be willing to go.

"So what do we do on Saturday?" She asks out of the blue and I frown a bit, pulled out of my starting fantasies.

"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice a bit distant because the picture of her sprawled over my kitchen desk, my cock pounding into her still at the forefront of my mind. When she answers her voice is unsure and the image starts to fade.

"Well.. you told Lewis I am busy this Saturday and because I didn't know it until you said so, I thought you have something planned. Business related or otherwise." She explains and I squint my eyes for a moment.

"Oh, that. I just didn't like a person like him asking out my secretary." I casually reply to not show her how effected I was after the bimbo tried to make a move on her – in my office. I may not be sure what I want from her besides the obvious – a replay of the encounters we already had – but I won't tolerate any male in her vicinity as long as she is in any way involved with me. I know I don't have a right to act like this, but I am possessive and dominant and I don't like the thought of her going out with anyone else. Its hard enough to see Four making puppy eyes at her whenever they meet. Tris speaks again and it stops my angry and annoyed thoughts.

"Oh, I see..." Her voice is soft and I flinch at the hurt I hear in it. I hope the device obscures my slip up good enough.

"Tris, look..." I begin and curse my own weakness for facing my feelings, for not thinking about everything before I started what I am not sure will end or not soon. She interrupts me before I can continue.

"Well, I wouldn't have said yes, anyway. He was too young and insecure. You spoiled me." She chuckles lightly, a bad acted try to camouflage her obvious pain.

"Tris..." I try again, but she continues and I feel my own chest contort at her willingness to hurt herself to not show me that my behavior affects her so much. Always looking out for anyone else. Stupid girl.

"And its not like I am looking for a relationship anyway. I enjoy my alonetime in my loft far too much to share it with anyone." I frown because she lies right through her teeth. I feel anger rise within me for her words and let her hear it without holding back.

"Tris." The one word lets her stop her senseless rambeling and lies.

"I know this situation is probably not easy for you and I am not a man that is vised in the emotional ways a woman reacts. Not at all. So if you aren't up to it, say so and we will stop it." She stays silent for a while before her voice now soft and a bit on edge reaches my ear again.

"But what is it?" She asks and I can hear her desperation. It hurts me to hear her like that. Its wrong. I feel responsible, I am responsible and maybe thats the reason why I am honest with her when I speak up again.

"I don't know what it is, Tris. I just know that we will figure it out. Lets meet tomorrow afternoon at the Navy Pier. We can talk then, ok? Do you feel alright with that?" I think its strange for her to hear me like that, just as it is strange for me to speak like that.

"Ok." She answers, but her voice doesn't sound like it. It sounds like she cries and I don't think I could stand it. Not because of me. She should know that she shouldn't cry because of me.

"Tris? What is it?" I ask her, voice calm and I hope it reaches her. I hear her clear her throat and she chuckles a bit. I feel a weight lift from my chest and smile slightly.

"Its ok. I am ok. Just a bit on edge thats all." She finally says and I wonder if I interpretate her tone right and she really just invited me for something I was sure was far from her mind.

"Mhm, on edge?" I ask carefully, voice deeper and I can picture her pure face with rosy red cheeks because she blushes at my tone.

"Yeah, you know... a bit hot, a bit yearning..." She says, her voice low and a bit more sensual and I groan slightly when her eyes appear in my mind, half-lidded and suggesting. Before I can stop myself I spring the most important question at her that bothered my mind since I called her an hour ago.

"What are you wearing underneath today? Color? Material?" I know my voice is husky and her shaky inhale lets me know that she shivers at it. So responsive, I think and smirk when she answers.

"You can't be serious..." She mumbles, probably squirming in her office chair like she did in my car. I decide to tease her, to be blunt and brash to elevate the last lingering heaviness around us.

"Oh, you can give me a blow job while driving along the most busy street of Chicago but when I ask you on the phone what underwear you wear so I can get off on it it bothers you?" She probably knows that I am smirking and rolls her big grey-blue eyes at my behavior and words. But I hope that she gets the meaning, that I think of her to release myself of some stress. She doesn't know I did long before I seduced her in my office and she doesn't need to know it. Yet.

"See through panties and matching bra, trimmid red. No stockings." She answers finally, voice low, just above a whisper and a few octaves deeper then her usual voice. I groan appreciativly and start to push up my shirt, opening my pants.

"Tell me more..." I say, my voice deeper. Her breathing changes slightly, she hums softly and I close my eyes to concentrate on her sounds and the pictures in my head.

"A black skirt, dark blue high heels..." She continues and I interrupt her to boost her confidence.

"Oh god, I love those shoes on you." My hand goes around my already hard cock and her small sounds urged me to touch myself, slowly pumping my length, picturing her in the various states of arousal I already saw her in. I hear a moan leaving her soft lips and I bite my own lips in response.

"So you watched me, Mr. Coulter?" She asks and there is just something forbidden about the way she uses my name in this situation. Her voice sounds innocent and I growl slightly when I think I start to understand what she does.

"Are you touching yourself?" I ask back, voice even deeper now, my breath a bit labored. My movements increase slightly and I feel heat spreading through me.

"Yes..." She whispers and a deep groan follows her admission. I imagine how her fingers glide through her wetness, ready for me to take her like she was the last few times. Her scent invades my nose even though she is nearly four hours flight time away. I groan again.

"I wished it would be you doing these things to me..." She whispers softly and its a hard contrast to her labored breathing, the ecstasy in her eyes I saw whenever I touched her, when she touched herself in my shower. I picture her down on her knees infront of me, nothing on her delicious body then the shoes she wears, her lips around my painful hard cock, my hands in her blond long hair.

"I wish it would be your fingers pinching my clit, rubbing my entrance before you give me your cock I need so much right now..." I groan hard again and I know she is probably blushing this insane red, a mixture of cute innocent and hot cheeks after being penetrated.

"I miss your tight pussy clenching down on me... god... you don't know how good you feel, how tight you wind up when I am pumping in and out of you, your perfect breasts crowned with these small pink buds that beg me to bite them..." She moans throatily and I imagine her fingers slipping inside of her, that she spreads her legs apart to get more room for her hands and her movements and for me to watch when she pinches her small bundle of nerves, her muscles rippling.

"Eric..." She breaths and the sound lets me groan hard, my breathing heavy, my hand at my cock pumping fast. The way her eyes met with mine when she masturbated in my shower lets me groan a last time before I feel the release like a explosion behind my eyes, my length twitching in my hand, accompanied by her sweet voice, moaning my name loudly, probably biting her lip when she comes undone.

We stay silent, breaths slowly calming, images burned into my memory for good now. I don't think I could ever forget the way she moves, talks, responses to me and at this point I don't want to.

Thank you for reading - review please. I don't know if I got everything across I wanted to and its the first time I even tried to write Eric's perspective on things... I hope it wasn't too bad or cliche. Until next time!