“Everything,” he says. “We’re now in a contractually secure working environment. The NDA goes both ways—didn’t you read that?”
“What do you want to know?” I ask, because I should have read that contract a little better.
“I want to know who I’m working with. Who is working for me. I want to know what you want out of life, I want to know what makes you tick. I’m starting to think I do. I think I infuriate you a lot. Which begs the question, why would you work for a man you so despise?”
We’re still standing close to each other, and now it’s starting to feel suffocating. I make a move to inch back, but he quickly reaches out and grabs me by the wrist, and his grip is tight.
It’s enough to make me raise my arm in defense, to set off alarms throughout my body, to remember that this is the son of the devil, and the apple never falls far from the tree.
“Easy now,” he says, frowning at my raised arm, and yet he doesn’t let go. “You’re a little reactive, don’t you think?”
“I’ve had some bad experiences,” I say, my voice hard, my head echoing with my heartbeat.
“I can see that,” he says, peering at me closely. I stare right back, not willing to give him anything. Finally, he lets go. “I suppose I can relate in some way.”
Not even close, I think, quickly stepping back so I’m on the other side of the desk again. Out of habit, I rub at my wrist.
He stares, brows raised in surprise. “Did I hurt you? You can’t be that fragile . . .” His eyes trail over my body. “Even if you do look like you might dissolve into fairy dust at any given time.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him quickly. “Being in New York teaches you a lot about boundaries. I’ve taken self-defense. You can never be too careful, as you say.”
“No,” he says slowly. “But New York’s crime is no different from Paris or London.”
I shrug. “Then I guess I can handle myself anywhere now.”
“As long as you can handle working for me,” he says. “Now, how about we begin by giving you my schedule for the week.” He reaches across the desk and hands me a smartphone. “Here. This is yours. This is my link to you. It’s your job to keep up with it, to check in on me regularly in case there are appointments made that I forget to tell you about. This includes all appointments, including dates.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Dates? Do you even go out on dates?”
His eyes narrow just a bit. “You think I don’t?”
“I think you’re not one for formalities. That whole getting to know each other business.”
“How can you say that when all I wanted to do yesterday was catch up? And I still want to know more about you.”
“That’s different . . .” You’re not trying to fuck me.
I don’t think.
At least I sure as hell hope not.
I start to slip the phone into my apron pocket, but he jerks his chin at it.
“Don’t put it away yet; I happen to have a date you need to add,” he says. “Tomorrow night with the front-desk clerk at your old hotel.”
I roll my eyes. “You made a date while you were there to get me?”
“How do you think I got your room number? I have to have something to trade, and my cock is a very hot commodity.”
My eyes go to the ceiling again. The ego on this guy.
I bring out my phone, and when I open the calendar app, I can see his schedule already. He’s not kidding when he says he’s busy. In fact, I can see he has numerous meetings today that he’s already missing.
“Now,” he goes on, “I don’t remember her name, but I have no doubt she’ll be texting me to remind me about the date. So put it in for Friday, make reservations at the fanciest place you can think of, and then it’s your job to find out her name so I don’t look like a complete pig. Got that?”
“I got that,” I tell him. “Anything else?”
“Sure,” he says, getting up and walking around the desk to the door of the office. “This place is a bit of a mess. Tidy it, will you? I want to see it shine.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left staring at his phone, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.