A/n: again this will be going through both Tom and reader's days.

            After you had sent the text to you bestie. You changed back into your clothes, stepping out of the changing room. You decide to browse a little more before buying all three items. That you had model for your best friend. Knowing you girlfriend would probably in class. She had been in law school for about a year now and you knew she was stressed out. So giving her a little thrill. After walking out of the boutique, you continued on your way down 5th Avenue. Going to your favorite designer stores. Passing your time was shopping and fashion.

        Finally you heard your phone going off. You eagerly opened it. Thinking it was your bestie. Unfortunately Toms name lit up the screen. Not thinking much of it as you opened it. Then horror filled your eyes as you stared at your phone. Reading his text, Tom: Miss y/l/n, I find this highly inappropriate, and hope that this was a wrong number situation.
Noticing what you had accidentally texted only moments ago. 'Oh god, shit, shit, shit.' You repeatably thought. This was not happening. Clearly red from embarrassment. Not sure how to respond to this. Making sure you text your best friend this time.

        Y/n: oh fuck, I fucking just sent the wrong text to the wrong person. I'm freaking out. Shit.

       Sending the text in all caps. Quickly you got a response back.

         Bestie: Calm down hunny bunny. What happened?

      Taking a screen shot of the texts you sent and responds.

         Y/n: I sent that to my dads Business partner.

         Bestie: Oh the sexy tall British one with the scruff. The one I wouldn't kick him out of my bed. 🤤🤤 Oh please tell me he is going to keep those pictures of you in his spank bank 🍑and wack it to them

         Y/n: yes that one, oi. Can you please be serious about this. What the hell do I do.

        Bestie: 🍆Fuck his brains out instead. I'm sure he has way more experience then those jackass "boys" you go for. 🤤

         Y/n: Oh My God... You're not helping here. Get you mind out of the gutter. And ugh, I'm heading to dad's office now. I can't avoid Tom.

         Bestie: Ohhh you're now on a first name basest. Don't avoid him. March that sexy ass, in that little white number. Go right in to his own office and fuck him in his chair. Ohh or better yet have him take you over the desk. Oh or against the window twenty floor up.

         Y/n: I'm not going to participate in your sick fantasy, of someone who is in his late thirties. You need help.

        Bestie: And you need to get laid. His age Isn't that big of a difference.  And you can't sit there telling me you haven't found that man at all attractive.

            You left it at that. You friend was not going to help you any time soon. You were getting close to you dad's building. She did have one thing right, you couldn't deny he was very attractive. Minus that fact he was older. Maybe, just maybe when he started growing scruff, you thought about what it would be like to have beard burn. Shaking that thought out of your head as you went inside.

           "Good morning Miss. y/l/n." The elderly man with white hair and a mustache sat behind the desk. Who had ran security for your father for twenty plus years greeted you.

           "Good morning Stan." You hummed as you walked past. Almost forgetting about the text, about Tom. Until you stepped into the elevator. Pressing the button to your dad's floor.

       Standing in the elevator your nerves kicked in. Tapping the heel of your stiletto. As the elevator went up. You made it up three floors, when the elevator stopped and the doors opened. You never noticing the person walking in. Until the man cleared his throat. Your head turned looking at who it was. And to your dismay it was the one person you did not want to see. Looking smug and extremely sexy, in his Burgundy Gucci suit. Always looking way to good in any suit he wore. Though you really never thought about these things with him, until now. Making your face turning fifty shades of red.

          "Good morning Miss y/l/n." He purred. Moving towards you. You watched as his long slender fingers pressing the same floor you were heading too. 'Did he really need to hit that bottom? No, no he didn't. He totally did that on purpose.'

           "Uh- m-morning." You stuttered out. Trying not making eye contact with him. While he moved to the back of the elevator. 'Dose he really need to move back there?' You glanced as he strolled, his back turned to you. Pressing himself against the wall facing you now. Before he could see you looking, you went back to looking at the numbers go up.

        The way up felt like it was taking forever to reach the floor you wanted. Silence filled the room. But it felt like his gaze burn a hole in the back of you. Feeling like his eyes racked over your backside. It was probably not the smartest idea to wear a summer dress now. As you stood there waiting you thought. 'Oh god why won't this elevator move faster this is starting to get awkward.' Once the elevator stopped with a ding, you couldn't slip through the doors fast enough. Or walk the hall quick enough without running. And let's face it you were no runner, let alone in heels.

       Making it to your dad's office door. You sighed in relief, for a brief moment. Until you notice from the corner of your eye that Tom walked passed his own office door. 'Shit. Please don't be coming in here, please just keep walking or better yet flirt with dad's secretary.' Who happens to be in her sixties. And looked like the old lady at the  library. You opened the door and stepped in greeting your dad as you did. Once around the desk kissing his check. Your dad smiled getting up to hug you. That's when you noticed the stain on his button down dress shirt. Asking him what happened. Whine Tom cleated his throat and started speaking, making you jump. Your head snapped up looking over at the man standing against the door frame before pushing his hip off of it.
      
               "Again sorry about that Eric. I ended up get a few interesting texts earlier." Tom wore a shit eating grin on his face, as he made eye contact with you. You stood there stunned, he was clearly referring to the texts you accidentally sent him this morning. God you hoped no one else saw those photos. This is more then embarrassment. 'This is going to be an awkward lunch. God, I hope he deleted those photos.' You though.