Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Is there a standard template for—”
“Fourth. Since I can’t leave this stupid fucking house, you’re gonna need to run all my errands. At the top of that list is grocery shopping and then getting my cars serviced. I’m pretty sure I haven’t had an oil change since the end of last season.”
“How many cars . . . do you have?”
“Six. A Phantom, Maybach 57, Range Rover, Wrangler, an Altima—”
“An Altima? That’s really breaking the trend you had going.”
Gavin shot me a death glare over the interruption. “That’s the car I actually drive. The others just exist in my garage. I also have a Triumph that I can’t ride.”
“Why not?”
“My contract forbids me from riding a motorcycle. I’m saving it for when I finally tear my fucking ACL and have to live off the insurance policy I got for my knees.”
I did not understand the life of athletes. Like at all.
Gavin jutted a fifth finger in the air. “Fifth—lunch. Same dietary restrictions as breakfast but I expect more protein. Sixth—screening my phone calls and going through voice mails. Seventh—dealing with my schedule. You can get with Joe on that one. He’ll be happy to get some of my shit off his hands, even though he’ll probably act like you’re too stupid to handle it.”
Getting with Joe sounded about as good as rolling around naked in waxing oil. “Do you have a planner or anything?”
“No. Feel free to make me one, except I won’t look at it, so it will be for you.”
I nodded, but at this point felt like I was sweating just as much as him. “Okay, not to be . . . a bigger pain in the ass, but I have a small problem with the hours we talked about.”
“Tough shit. They’re not changing.”
My teeth clenched. “The train stops running at five on the dot. There’s no way I can cab it from here to the station in time to catch it, which would leave me stranded until the next time it runs at eleven at night! I have no idea why the schedules out here are so jacked-up but—”
Gavin snorted. “They’re fucked-up because nobody living in Westhampton is taking the LIRR on a regular basis, genius. Like I said, that’s why the position is meant to be live-in. Deal with it, or buy a car of your own. You can use the Altima or the Wrangler for errands, but you’re not keeping one of my rides overnight in Queens.”
“Oh. Great. So what am I supposed to do?”
“Figure it out. You’re the one who made this difficult by deciding to commute.” Gavin pushed away from the counter. “What you need to understand about this job is that you have no personal life while you’re working for me. You have no plans. I am your top priority. And considering how much money you fought Joe for, arguing that point is pretty much a joke.”
“I’ll be spending most of that money on cabs,” I protested. “Or else I’ll have to hang around here forever waiting for trains. How am I supposed to—”
“Save it.” He turned away and headed out of the kitchen. “I need you here in the morning, so you’ll be here in the morning. Your salary ensured it’s not negotiable.”
I had an overwhelming urge to tell him he was being an unreasonable ass, but I swallowed it. He was doing this on purpose. He had to be. Either because he really had a stick up his ass about the print on the contract or because he was trying to see if he could get me to quit.
Either way, I wasn’t going to let him win. I’d do everything he asked for, and more. And I’d be a rock star in the process. Gavin would have no choice but to take me on for the full six months once I aced the hell out of whatever jerkish tests he threw at me.
I looked at my sweaty, flustered reflection in the shiny, black screen embedded in his refrigerator—because apparently a 4K TV needed to be there—and gave a firm nod.
“You can do this. You’ve overcome worse odds, Noah. Get it together.”
With that affirmation hitting the air, I hurried out the room and after Gavin.
I was determined for it to be a good day.
***
Gavin
Noah wasn’t having a good day.
First, Simeon had been right. Noah had shown up late seriously looking like a mega fuckable Clark Kent. That had been mistake number one. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to impress with his office job outfit, but I’d have been a lot happier if he’d arrived in nothing at all. I’d never been into the whole geek thing before, but his lean body, thick, dark hair, and square-rimmed glasses did it for me. I wanted to fuck him while he was wearing them and see if they fell off his face.