Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
“He’s feeling under the weather,” he says. “Get in.”
“I’d rather not ride with the boss,” I say. “I don’t want anyone thinking you’re giving me any favoritism.”
“After your little review stunt, I guarantee that no one will think I’m favoring you.” He rolls his eyes. “Get in the car. Now.”
“You know, I think it may be best if I take the subway for old times’ sake, you know?”
“I’m not a fan of repeating myself.”
“I’m just saying...” I swallow the worst of my word vomit. “I’m used to seeing you via screen or from afar at the big meetings, and I think it’s a little soon for us to move to the next level, you know?”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Miss Clarke.” His eyes roam my body. “I would enjoy every second of tossing you over my shoulder and forcing you into my car.”
My cheeks flush red and I hesitate for a second before walking past him and slipping onto the passenger seat.
He shuts my door and slides behind the wheel, pulling onto the street.
“Can we stop somewhere for breakfast?” I ask.
“Hmmm,” he says, turning up the volume on a Financial Times podcast. “I’ll think about it.”
I’ll take that as a no.
The silence in the car hums louder than the engine. Every time I steal a glance, he’s focused on the road like a machine, his hands gripping the wheel with military precision, veins standing out as if he’s controlling more than just the car.
“You do know there are drive-thrus open at this hour, right?” I ask.
He raises a brow. “Do I look like someone who eats fast food?”
“Maybe you should give it a try,” I say. “An overload of carbs might be what you need to finally fall off your high horse.”
He smirks, but doesn’t respond to that, and the car keeps gliding past diners and coffee shops like he’s allergic to them. By the time we reach the downtown skyline, I’m starving, and he hasn’t spoken another word.
When we finally arrive, the security gates part for him without question, and we pull into a private garage beneath the Pearson Tech tower.
Inside, the building is still asleep—dark halls, echoing footsteps—until we reach the top floor.
Instead of heading inside the office where we were yesterday, he leads me down the hall and into an obscene space with floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city like it’s his personal screensaver. A hidden bar gleams in the corner with bottles older than me.
There’s a fireplace, a massive desk carved from some exotic wood that probably has its own Wikipedia page, and an entire side room with a glass wall that looks more like a spa than part of a workplace.
There’s also a treadmill that looks like it belongs in NASA training, a flat screen looping stock tickers in real time, and a crystal decanter set that probably costs more than my house.
The air reeks of money and power—and of him. My pulse jumps, hating that even his office smells good.
“Okay, Miss Clarke.” He sets his briefcase down. “This is where you’ll be working until the rest of the team gets here.”
“What time do they come?”
“Noon.”
“Why can’t I get on their schedule?”
“Because you’re supposed to show me how you’d supposedly do my job better.” He takes a seat behind his desk before gesturing toward a mountain of messy files stacked on a coffee table.
“We need to read through all those purchase files and double-check them against our digital records,” he says simply. “It has to be done by morning.”
I glance at the stack and then back at him in disbelief. “So, after that, I’ll work with the team on something else?”
“Don’t be silly, Miss Clarke.” He points to an even larger stack standing in the corner. “We’ll spend the afternoon on that stack.”
“There’s no way you actually do this by yourself.” I feel my chest heaving at the thought. “You’re just trying to make a scene.”
“Not at all.” He picks up a pen, already signing something with a flourish. “But I’m glad you’re here, because now I get to split it with someone.”
I grab a file and take a seat.
Suck it up.
It’s only for six weeks…
THE CEO
LUCIAN
The idea of having this woman around me reveals itself as a terrible idea by nine o’clock.
She keeps a pen poised between her lips while she works, and every time she asks me a question, her eyes linger on mine a little longer than they should.
Whenever she comes across a complicated file, she moans, and it only makes me wonder how she would sound if I had her bent over this chair or pressed against my windows.
“This is the same thing that kept tripping me up in the quarterly report,” she says, looking up at me. “The vendor report will match what we have on file, but the money is deposited elsewhere.”