Mr. Bossy Devil - Lindsey Hart Page 0,4
get ahead. Or to get in bed. Both are pretty gross options.
Even if Raiden is insanely good looking and looks and smells expensive, he’ll always just be a rat in rat’s clothing. Yeah, so what if I’m not very inventive with my comparisons. He’s the one looking discomfited, not me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he squirmed when he sat down, and his voice cracked. Yup, he’s so high up there, he had no idea I even worked here, or that I have since I was twenty-two. Eight. Years. For eight years, I worked my butt off, just so he could come and take it all away and wreck everything.
Raiden looks surprised when I ask him if he’s always an asshole. I used to have this major hang-up about swearing. I still kind of do. I think it sounds really unprofessional, so I have my own inventive repertoire, but no, I’m not above using the real words when I think it counts.
Raiden was always athletic. I used to be really jealous of how he could just pick things up. There wasn’t a single sport he couldn’t play well, and he went to college on a track and field scholarship. Who the heck even gets one of those? Anyway, he wasn’t rich back then. Not until he finished and invented some random software crap that made him a frizzle-fracking ton of money. He then bought out another tech company since he had the money to do it. That only made what he was already doing garner more success.
He branched out into apps a year later, then games, and now us. Or at least the company I work for. We do home security. Why he wants that, I have no idea. I think he just finds joy in dropping a smelly load all over everyone else’s day. That’s right. Raiden is definitely one of those people who would purposely leave the house ten minutes early, even if he felt something brewing, and drop it in a public bathroom somewhere just so other people would have the pleasure of basking in the smell of his poop. He probably thinks it would be a real treat for them.
“Am I always an asshole?” Raiden mulls it over. His voice has changed. It’s deeper. Smoother.
He looks different from his pictures. In pictures, he doesn’t seem so threatening, his eyes aren’t the right shade of blue, and his hair is not so raven black. He’s tall and broad in the videos and photos, but not like he is in person. In real life, it looks like he enjoys eating kittens as a snack and toddlers for dinner. He’s nothing short of menacing in the kind of way that women eat right up and fall into bed with twenty minutes later.
I can almost hear them now. I just happened to slip and fall, and Raiden’s dick just landed right inside me while he was trying to save me.
Everything about Raiden is frustratingly perfect and annoyingly strong and square. I’d like to punch him in his perfect nose, his perfect mouth, or his square, perfect jaw just so he wouldn’t be so perfect. His clothes, his shoes, and even his haircut look expensive. It gives me the urge to take a pair of scissors to some of that shit.
I’m not usually this evil. Raiden just brings out the worst in me.
I meet his cerulean gaze, stare for stare, unblinking. “That’s right. Are you?”
His lips twitch at the corners, and he drops his eyes to my mouth like he’s thinking about doing something very work-inappropriate with it. A strange heat starts in my belly, and a disgustingly disturbing pooling of wetness goes on a little lower. Apparently, my hormones are a little off. I’m two or three days away from ovulating, so it’s just my body acting freaking crazy. Biological clocks are no joke, and hormones aren’t either. But still, I’m grossed out at myself.
“Let’s just say I’m an overachiever. Most people probably think so, and I’d hate to disappoint them.”
“Disappoint them?” I scoff. “There’s probably nothing you couldn’t buy your way out of or into, and that includes a new image. If you screw up and do something nice for someone, I’m sure you could cover it up so your reputation wouldn’t suffer.”
Raiden’s eyes get a strange new glow then. How could I have forgotten he was on the debate team? When I knew him, at least. Sparring with people was something he always loved doing, and