Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57028 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
I waved a hand and almost said, You won’t get this job with compliments.
She must’ve sensed my mood change.
She leaned forward with a challenge, giving me a look at her cleavage that had me almost pulling her out of her seat. My mind, usually either a purposefully peaceful place or a world of unwanted chaos, became a lust-filled land. I imagined pushing her gorgeous globes together, pressing my face against her, biting, kissing, possessing. “Sorry, Mr Russo. I’m a little nervous. That’s probably not the sort of thing you admit on a job interview… but I sense you value honesty.”
Now, in the car outside her apartment, I smile. She’s just returned from getting a glass of water. That was a clever line by her.
I chuckled. “Ah, a quote from my interview in TIME. It’s worth knowing, the writer took liberties.”
“You don’t value honesty, sir?” she asked, confused.
Of course, my intercom chose that moment to buzz, interrupting us. It was my assistant. “Sir, five minutes until the call with London.”
“Is that an actual call?” Evie asked.
That got another laugh out of me. Evie was going for the record. “Are you always this paranoid?”
She shrugged. “It would be a good way to seem important.”
“Do you honestly believe billionaires need to pretend to be important?”
“Touche. I guess I’m wondering why you’re interviewing me yourself?”
“I think you know why I’m interviewing you myself, Miss Davis.”
She bit her lip. Fuck. That did a number on me. My balls ached as I imagined her trembling in the throes of an orgasm right there in the office, biting her lip so that my assistant wouldn’t hear.
“No, I don’t,” she said stubbornly, refusing to give an inch.
“I’ve known Charles–you ‘previous employer’–for several years. Last night, I called him and asked if a woman named Evie Davis had ever worked for him.”
“I never met Mr. Menezes personally—”
“He examined his records thoroughly. Are you going to keep lying?”
Finally, she huffed, “Fine. Well done,” with a sarcastic clap that almost had me laughing again. “A girl’s got to take risk sometimes. I guess this is the part where you kick me out of your office? I can’t blame you for it. But before I go, I’d like an answer to my question.”
“Do you honestly think you’re in a position to make demands?”
“You knew I was lying from the start–is that why you interviewed me yourself, to make an example?”
She’d hit the nail on the head. I wouldn’t acknowledge the other reason, buried deep. I wanted to see if she was as beautiful in person as she was online.
“Perhaps I impressed you? Maybe you thought, heck, I’ll give the girl a shot? Okay, I lied. I know that’s wrong. But what if I said I had good reasons? What if I said I really, really need this job – and I’d work my ass off to prove it?”
“I’m not impressed by liars, Miss. Davis.”
She stood abruptly, causing her breasts to bounce. Even now, sitting in my car outside her apartment and staring at Evie in her window, my body aches thinking about it.
“Are you trying to intimidate me, then?” she demanded. “Because trust me, Mr. Russo, that won’t work. If you think I’m going to be scared by some CEO after everything I’ve been through, you’ve got another thing coming.”
She turned, dashing towards the exit. The gentle fabric of her dress draped over the roundness of her ass. But it was more than that which had me stopping her. “Wait.” It was her passion. It was… her.
Walking across the room, I stood in front of her, probably closer than any CEO or man, had any right to stand. Her perfume, or maybe it was just her natural scent, washed over me in an intoxicating wave.
“I can’t give a liar a job, but if you’re in some trouble—”
“I didn’t say I was in any trouble.”
“You wouldn’t have gone through all this effort if you weren’t in a bind. Maybe I can help.”
I took another step forward, feeling drunk. For a brief, hungry moment, our bodies pressed against each other. She let out a gasp. I’m sure there was lust in the noise, or maybe that’s wishful thinking.
She backed away at my words. “I’m not going to let you—” she paused, flustered. “I won’t let The Vultures mess with me, and you think I’ll let you?”
She almost ran from the room at her outburst. I reached out, meaning to catch her hand, but then I realized how strange that would be. I came to my senses… for a minute or two. But then I went online and searched ‘The Vultures California’, learning they’re a biker gang out of San Bernardino.
That was the bombshell, the thing that brought me here. Is she in trouble? Does she need my help, even if she’s too proud to accept it?