Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83994 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I walk over to his desk, shaking, tears in my eyes, feeling miserable and terrible in a way I’ve never experienced before. It’s one thing for a guy to ditch me on a first date, but this is somehow more humiliating.
I’ve known Declan Whelan for two years now, but we’ve never shared anything private with each other. Our relationship has been strictly professional.
Now I feel exposed in a way I never wanted with him. Mr. Whelan’s not the kind of man I want to spill all my pathetic secrets to, but now that it’s too late to shut myself up, my only option is to quit with some little piece of my dignity intact.
A very, very little piece, but still.
I gather up my Spicy Self-Care box. The vibrator somehow turns on again and makes the whole thing buzz. “Oh, shoot,” I say, fumbling it and dropping the whole mess on the floor. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so sorry.” I gather all my stuff up, shut off the vibrator, and get to my feet.
Tears burn my eyes. My throat’s a lump. I want to run away, but Mr. Whelan’s standing right next to me now.
He smells good. I love the cologne he wears. I picked it out for him during Christmas last year, and he still puts it on every day. One of the very few things I like about him.
“Put the box at your desk, please, Ms. Brennan, and make sure you tape it shut.” He licks his lips and for a second, he’s staring at me like he’s picturing what I might look like in that first little outfit.
But that can’t be possible. Declan Whelan is cold-blooded. A beautiful specimen, but I’m pretty sure he’s more lizard than human.
“You don’t want that. I mean, I’m leaving, you don’t have to—”
“You are not leaving. If you’re putting in your resignation, it is not accepted.”
My eyes go wide. I’m having trouble understanding. “But, Mr. Whelan—”
“Call Dolce Vita, ask for a table tonight at eight.”
“Your—your usual, sir?”
He shakes his head. “A table for two. My driver will pick you up at exactly seven forty-five. You will dress appropriately for the venue, Ms. Brennan.”
I stare at him, mouth hanging open. “I don’t—you mean—I don’t understand.”
“You and I are going to have dinner.” He stares at me, completely deadpan. I have no idea if he’s kidding or if he just commanded me out on a date. “If there’s nothing else, please return to your desk and get back to work.”
I can’t move. I’m trapped in his office. I’m pretty sure I must’ve gotten my head chopped off and now I’m in hell. This is a sick joke. Mr. Whelan, my sexy-as-sin Boss Bastard, saw my Spicy Self-Care box and now he’s demanding that I go out to dinner with him?
This makes no sense.
“Yes, sir,” I murmur, mostly out of pure muscle memory, and walk stiffly back to my chair. I slump down as his door closes behind me with a soft click.
I stare at the vibrator. It’s sitting there like a sick joke.
When he opened the box, I assumed I’d be murdered and/or fired.
Instead, it sounds like I have dinner plans.
Chapter 2
Casey
“It’s professional. Right? It’s professional?”
I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror on the back of my bathroom door. Natalie’s sitting on my bed. I have approximately a half hour before Mr. Whelan’s driver will be outside my house, and there’s no way he’ll be anything but exactly on time. Nobody works for Boss Bastard long if they’re ever anything but prompt.
“It’s got to be.” Natalie looks as confused as I feel. “You said he picked up the vibrator?”
“He turned it on.”
“Seriously?” She shakes her head with pure wonder. “Was it hot?”
“No! It was terrifying!”
“Right, scary, but it’s Declan Whelan. I mean, the man’s absolutely insane and probably a sadist, but he’s beautiful. Like, I’d let him burn me with cigarettes if it meant getting to lick his toes kind of gorgeous.”
I stare at her, eyebrows raised. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t kink shame me.”
I groan and turn back to the mirror. “It just doesn’t make sense. He saw the lingerie and the vibrator, and he knew it was all mine. Then I spilled my soul to him, gave him this pathetic speech about feeling lonely, and instead of firing my ass—”
“He made you make dinner reservations. Seriously, the more you tell me the story, the crazier it sounds.”
I think back to that moment when he held the vibrator up and switched it on. He didn’t seem angry, more confused if anything. And there was that other look he gave me, the hungry one, laced with desire and lust. A look I didn’t even think he was capable of. But for the first time since he hired me, it felt like he was seeing me as more than a glorified coffee-fetcher and note-taker.