The King - S.R. Jones Page 0,25
I know how much Montblanc stuff costs. So now I know he’s also the kind of man who drops hundreds of pounds on a personal organizer. I file it away with the other Konstantin facts I hoard.
“Thank you, Cassie. This has been helpful. And so you know, your job is secure. You won’t be affected by any reshuffles, but keep that to yourself.”
I love hearing him saying that. I want my job to be secure, but I don’t want to get any special treatment. Instead of keeping my thoughts to myself, I stupidly open my big mouth. “Thanks. That means a lot, but I don’t want any special treatment because you know me. Or because of what happened the other day?”
He turns to me, his face puzzled. “I don’t understand?”
“Erm, I mean, it’s only that … after you gave me the lift, I don’t want any special treatment. It’s not fair.” Shut up, my brain is screaming, but my stupid mouth doesn’t know when to stop.
“What happened between us? I didn’t think anything had happened between us. I gave you a lift; you gave me a lot of cheek and fucked up my car. Why would I give you special treatment for being a spoiled, rude brat, jailbait?”
Ugh, I hate him calling me that. Hate the condescending way he says it as if I’m some whore for wearing clothes of the sort most young women wear. Where does he get off with the judgmental tone? A man like him judging me?
I looked him up—yes, I did, ashamed as I am to admit it—as soon as I got to my desk after the meeting. I nipped to the ladies and did some intense googling. He wasn’t that hard to find mention of. It turns out, he’s someone the media have talked about now and again, normally in relation to the women he’s shagging. He doesn’t seem to have any social media accounts. No Facebook. No Instagram. No Twitter. And he himself also doesn’t seem to do much publicity wise; except for a couple of dry business interviews. My god, though, he picks women who hog the headlines, and on a couple of occasions, he’s been mentioned alongside them as their date. Only six months ago, he was cavorting with not one, but two models. He’s a slut, yet he acts like I’m the one in the wrong.
My temper flares. I’m a good girl. Always have been, and where has it got me? Dumped by my fiancé. Humiliated in front of my whole workplace. Broke. And now, treated as if I’ve committed a crime for wearing a sexy outfit by the world’s biggest hypocrite.
“You know, for a man who dates a lot of models, you seem to have an issue with any woman who dresses in remotely sexy clothes.” As soon as the words are out, I regret them. Shit, I’ve just let on that I looked him up. Way to go, Cassie.
His eyes narrow. “How do you know who I date?”
I sigh. “It’s online. Not a lot, but there’s info showing you as the new amor of two different models in the space of six months, so I don’t get why you’re angry at me for wearing a perfectly normal outfit.”
He says nothing, but his face tightens as he watches me.
“I’m not rude either. Not normally, anyway, but you’re … very trying. I try hard to be nice to people.”
“Oh, I’m sure you do, Cassie. Too hard.”
What does that even mean? Where does he get off with this attitude? This man drives me crazy.
“I don’t purposefully hurt others. I don’t buy up companies and asset strip them and fire people.”
Oh, holy shit!
I need to get out of this room before I really do lose my job. I’ve always had a temper, but normally I keep it well in check. Even Tim cheating on me didn’t bring it out to this degree. Why does Konstantin drive me so crazy?
“You think I’m the bad guy, do you?” he sneers. “And you’re Snow White? Well, jailbait, if you’re so squeaky clean, how come you nearly lost your place at university for being involved in a hacking project.”
I feel the color drain from my face as he watches me.
“What? You think I didn’t read your file? You looked me up, and I looked you up. Don’t worry, jailbait, it’s not a black mark. In fact, it’s one of the reasons you’re keeping your job, which we’ll discuss later. But cut the holier than thou crap;