Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
“Those. The shoes.” The bright-blue fuck-me heels. “You didn’t have those on earlier.” She wore black flats, not that I usually notice these things.
“Oh yeah.” She holds out her leg, turning her foot this way and that admiringly. I’ve stopped looking. But only because she’s flashing a little thigh. “I’m wearing them in.”
I’d like to wear her—
No. No, I would not.
“They’re pretty, though, right?”
“They’re hardly workplace appropriate.”
“They’re shoes. Enclosed toes. Seem plenty appropriate to me,” she argues.
“Yes, if you want to break your neck.” Or wrap them around mine. “Listen,” I add gruffly, “if there’s a problem with my schedule, I expect you to bring it to fix it, not just my attention.”
Her smile dampens as she lowers her leg, then reaches for her iPad. “You have a meeting with Alexander Beckett scheduled the same day. There’s a chance they might overlap. I thought I should ask which you’d like to reschedule.”
“Postpone the FT interview. Beckett is more important.” He’s the reason I was able to raise the finance for this venture. “Is it just Beckett or Olivia as well?”
“Jody made a note,” she murmurs as her attention dips. My attention remains on her face. By sheer force of will. “Both.” She glances up, seeing right through me again anyway.
“Better order lunch. She likes the sashimi from—”
“Okaish.”
“That’s the one,” I return brusquely. I feel like a complete shit. I bring up her shoes, then turn on her like a dog with a sore tail.
“You’ve got emails from another couple of publications requesting interviews… got it!” she tags on, tapping the screen because I’m already shaking my head. “There’s also a note to remind you that Lavender’s birthday is at the end of the month.”
“Shit.” I rub my hand across the bristles already sprouting on my jaw. “I completely forgot.”
“What can I help you with? Lavender is your sister, right?”
“Yeah, she’ll be turning twenty.”
“Then I can definitely help. I was twenty not too long ago.”
I try not to scowl. When she puts it like that, I feel like an old pervert. But Mimi is nothing like petulant, combative Lavender. I mean, I’m thirty-six, not sixty-six, but that still puts a dozen years between us. A dozen years and the fact that I’m her boss. It sounds like a recipe for disaster. For both of us.
“Is there something wrong?”
Me. I’m wrong. Wrong for wanting to bend her over my desk in nothing but a garter belt and stockings. Wrong and such a cliché. I give my head a quick shake and come up with some bullshit answer. “I was just thinking that Jody wasn’t up for shopping for personal gifts. Corporate was the limit. She said it was too much responsibility.”
“I don’t mind.” Mimi’s shoulders jump along with her words. “Who doesn’t love shopping?”
“Well, me.”
“I bet I could convert you.”
“No, Mimi. You really couldn’t.”
“I bet I could,” she retorts happily. “My enthusiasm knows no bounds!”
“Yes, I’ve noticed that about you.” Wouldn’t you be curious? The phantom of her soft words curls around my ears again. Yes. Yes, I am. Curious. Hungry. And ignoring my impulses. Clearing my throat, I reach down and adjust my cock, thankful for the cover of my desk. “Would you book somewhere for dinner that night?”
“On the twenty-eighth? For how many?” She angles her iPad.
“Well, there are seven of us,” I say with another frown.
“I cannot imagine growing up with so many siblings. It must’ve been amazing.”
“Yes, amazing, if you like to spend your childhood banging on bathroom doors,” I murmur. “Seven plus Archer,” I say, carrying on. “That’s Heather, my sister’s husband. Then Polly and also whichever fuckwit boyfriend Lavender has on the go. Miranda, our cousin, her husband, Harry, and their two boys. And you could ask Brin and El if they’ll be bringing a plus-one before you book.”
“Is El dating?” she asks.
“No, not as far as I know. Not seriously, anyway. Why do you ask?” I add, casually.
“He asked me out next weekend.” She makes a diffident gesture with the pen. I frown as I notice her foot begins to bounce again. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
“Why would it be?” I answer a little too quickly.
“I’m just being a good little employee.”
“Well, ask, all the same.” I’m surprised I’m able to form a full and coherent sentence when all I can think of is El seeing her—really seeing her. Feasting his eyes on her long legs. Maybe even getting her out of her underwear.
“Do you suffer from headaches?” At her question, my gaze sharply lifts. “All that jaw clenching can’t be good for you.”
El is taking her out, and she’s treating me like I’m in my dotage. “No. I don’t suffer from headaches.” I just have six siblings who are headache-inducing. And a thing for my PA that makes my cock ache.
I definitely need to get laid.