Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say.
She steps back, hands clasped in front of her, as though she’s a servant waiting for instructions. It leaves a foul taste in my mouth.
“Is there anything else, sir?” she asks expectantly.
I wave a hand at Ethan and Cindy. “Could you two give us a moment? I’d like to speak to the new hire.”
They leave immediately. Cindy gives me a look as she leaves, one I’m familiar with. I’ve never once returned the look or given her any indication I want this sort of attention. I don’t date employees. Never have. Never will?
That’s not a question. It’s a goddamn reality.
“Please, sit,” I say when we’re alone.
She gestures to the hard hat on her head. “May I?”
“Sure, you don’t have to wear them inside.”
She sits opposite me and sets her hat on the edge of my desk. Her hair spills out, wild, unruly, and beautiful. I swallow the thought, bury it deep.
“Is this your first day?” I ask.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m not big into corporate culture,” I tell her. “If you want to call me sir or mister, go ahead. But Dom’s just fine too.”
And yet, bossing her around, not in a work context…
She’s a young woman trying to make her way in the world, for fuck’s sake.
I take a sip of coffee. “You get an A-plus here.”
She smiles, averting her pretty eyes.
“So, why did you leave your last job?” I ask.
Her eyebrows shoot up. She looks at me as though she’s afraid to answer.
“Hey, relax,” I tell her. “This isn’t a second interview. My company has grown. A lot. But when I started this business, I made a promise to get to know my employees. I’ve never wanted to be one of those bosses who frightens his workers… except when I need to.”
She stares at me with wide, scared eyes.
“T-that was a joke,” I say quickly, putting my hand on the table… then quickly removing it.
What am I thinking? Was I going to push my hand toward hers, touch her, which I’ve got no damn right to do? I need to keep my head. I don’t know what’s come over me except she’s gorgeous and shy, and maybe I’ve been working too much.
But hell, I’ve met pretty women before and never had to force myself to focus this hard before.
“Oh,” she murmurs.
“I’m not very funny, I know,” I chuckle sheepishly.
“No, that was, uh, funny.”
Tell that to your face.
“So, why Vale?”
She chews her lip hard. Am I seriously so intimidating? No matter how hard I try not to be this off-putting, I always notice people shrinking away from me. As if my size and the general aura that a therapist would have a field day with… were something I could help.
“Your low-income housing projects are admirable,” she says after a pause. “Other people in your position would invest in glitzy offices, or use their reputation to get bigger projects. But you seem like you care, sir.”
When she says sir, a knot tightens in my gut. But there’s something else, too. Warmth spreads through my body, uncoiling some of the tension in me. I bury the sensation as soon as it manifests.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “And remember, you don’t have to call me sir.”
“Old habits die hard,” she murmurs.
“Your last boss was a hard ass?” I ask.
She winces slightly. I wonder if there’s some trauma there? Did he hurt her?
“You could say that,” she says, voice quiet.
“You were on the West Coast?” I ask. “If I remember correctly.”
She chews her lip. Fuck. She looks good when she does that. But I’m not like them. The wolf whistlers, the ogling ogres, the perverts. I’m different. Right?
“Yes,” she says. “My last boss… he insisted everybody call him sir. I think he saw his employees more as chess pieces than as people. Or maybe cogs is a better word.”
“It sounds like corporate doublespeak bullshit,” I say wryly. “But you’re not just a cog here. I won’t say you’re part of the work family, because I think that’s bull too, Izzy. I think people use that as a method of control. Family connections, even when they’re not family.”
A dark look passes across her face. “Family can be controlling too.”
I want to pry, to ask more. Who is she talking about? But the fact I’m even experiencing these impulses is a sign of danger. I’m friendly to my employees, sure, but never overfamiliar.
“I’m sure,” I murmur.
I almost don’t want to do the next bit. She seems like a nice woman. Kind-hearted and keen to get on with her work. But perhaps my past has made me distrustful.
My father's voice comes to me, shrunken to a tiny thing on his deathbed. “Don’t trust anyone. Ever. Unless you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you can rely on them, assume they’ll betray you.”
“I’ve got a job for you,” I tell her, taking the memory drive from my top desk drawer. “I need you to run this back to the office. It’s highly confidential, so please don’t share it with anybody else.”