How to Have Your Boss's Secret Baby - London Casey Page 0,26

course. She was going to stay pretty sober and take mental notes of anything said that I could use later.

But if my head was scrambled with the sight of Maya in a dress…

My right hand reached down, and I grabbed my cock through my boxers.

I groaned and opened my hand right away.

“Fuck no,” I whispered.

There was no fucking way in hell I was going to jerk off thinking about Maya.

I curled my lip and got dressed in one of my nicest suits.

I checked myself in the mirror and that was it.

It was time to get serious.

I exited the bedroom with a mean look on my face.

For good measure, I put my sunglasses on.

When I saw Maya waiting, I ground my teeth and felt a small growl in my throat.

She looked too good.

I should have stuck with my original plan and found someone else to come up here with me.

“We’re getting a ride there,” I said.

“Isn’t it like a one-minute walk?” Maya asked.

“It’s freezing out,” I said.

I put my hand out and Maya reached for me.

We held hands and walked out of the cabin.

Maya instantly shivered.

“Told you,” I said.

I let her hand go and put my arm around her bare, soft shoulder.

My cock throbbed in my pants.

I needed a fucking drink.

“So I told the son of a bitch, you like the whiskey that much, shove it up your ass!”

Mr. Pickle laughed and slapped the table.

I forced a laugh.

Maya smiled.

Mr. Pickle’s date was a woman named Marissa - or Rissa as he called her.

She wore a dark blue dress that wasn’t much of a dress.

The front was loose and she showed off the majority of her tits minus the nipples.

Mr. Pickle reached around to Rissa’s shoulder and pulled her close to him. He kissed the top of her head.

“But that’s not the crazy part,” Mr. Pickle said in a low voice. “The son of a bitch poured whiskey on the bar. He got a straw. And I swear on my grandma’s grave, he snorted it.”

“That must have felt great,” I said.

“He was so high off pills he didn’t feel a thing,” Mr. Pickle said. He laughed again and waved his right hand. “Oh, listen to me. Telling these terrible stories. You must think I’m a bad man, Maya.”

I looked at Maya.

She stiffened and smiled. “Well… to be fair… I work for Cole. Not sure much compares to him.”

Mr. Pickle belly laughed and reached for his drink.

By my count, that was his third of the night.

Right on cue, the fourth drink was delivered by the bartender.

“Hey, Thomas,” Mr. Pickle said. “What do you think of my friend here? Cole.”

Thomas looked at me. “He’s alright.”

“Just alright?” Mr. Pickle asked.

“He’s down to earth. He’s not digging in your pockets like the others do.”

“Are you vetting me?” I asked Thomas.

“He gets paid for that,” Mr. Pickle said. He winked. “Thomas is a master of research. He loves bartending on the side. He feels people out for me.”

“Wow,” I said. “This is all very official and intense. I’m pretty sure I’ve made my position clear here. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Don’t get pissed, Cole,” Mr. Pickle said.

“I am a little,” I said. “I thought we had trust.”

“We do,” Mr. Pickle said. “I’m just asking Thomas a question.”

“Which I answered,” Thomas said. “You’re a decent one, Cole.”

Maya let out a laugh.

“Ut-oh!” Mr. Pickle said. “The secretary feels otherwise.”

I glanced at Maya and wanted to scream.

She cringed and reached for her drink. “I need a few more of these. Then I’ll start talking.”

“What else will you start doing, honey?” Mr. Pickle asked.

Maya sat back in her chair.

“What’s wrong?” Mr. Pickle asked. “Scared of me?”

“Not at all,” Maya said.

“So play the game. Flirt back.”

“With you?”

“Why not?”

“What about your date?”

“She’s paid for,” Mr. Pickle said. “I’ll share her with you.”

“I’m not the sharing type,” Maya said. “I can be very greedy.”

“Well, in that case, name your price.”

I saw Maya’s face drop. She was as strong as anything. Tough and beautiful. But Mr. Pickle just implied she had a price tag. She could be bought for the night.

In other words.

Maya was a whore to him.

My mind quickly justified the words… because, face it, wasn’t I doing the same thing to Maya? She was getting paid to be there with me.

Except the look on her face.

She was either going to cry or throw her drink at Mr. Pickle’s face.

Either result would not be a good thing for me.

“Come on, have a little fun,” Mr. Pickle said. He winked. Then he looked at me.