Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 55093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55093 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 275(@200wpm)___ 220(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
“Who says I’m taking the job?”
“I do. Now settle your ass down and tell me which one of those airheaded friends of yours you suspect of selling you out.”
From her reaction it was obvious that she hadn’t given much thought to that. When would she have had the time? Seeing as I’d shown up here not long after the story broke.
She took her seat again looking bemused as she left off giving me shit about the job and concentrated on her answer. “I don’t know. No one else knew but me and Simone, but I don’t see her for this.”
“Who’s Simone?” I settled back and relaxed since she no longer seemed ready to bolt.
“She’s my friend. It was her idea to sell some of my old things.” Smart of her, unless she’s the one who’d betrayed her.
“And you don’t think that this Simone is the one who talked? You will know her better than I so I’ll reserve judgment. As to the other, the situation surrounding your dad’s death, I think I have a pretty good idea who leaked it. I don’t want you to worry about any of this, I’ll take care of it from here.”
“And how do you plan to do that? The cat’s already out of the bag, no way to put it back in.” She had a point, but I could fuck some people’s shit up for the heartache they’d caused her. Now I’m a high school jock fighting for his girl’s honor. This is what happens when you spend your formative years with your head buried in a book, looking forward years ahead. You miss out on all the good stuff. Like making a complete and utter ass of yourself over the other sex. I’m too old for this shit.
“Don’t worry about it. Now, to your new job. I need a personal assistant, someone not associated with the business, but to look after my personal calendar and shit like that.” Fuck if I did, but what else could I tell her? That I wanted her close, wanted to micromanage every aspect of her life and time for the foreseeable future? Or should I tell her the truth? That I was counting down the days ‘til I had her beneath me, with my cock buried to the hilt in her sweet young body.
Yeah, she’d probably bite off my dick if I got anywhere near her now. I’d have to groom her, bring her along until she sees things my way, and then I’ll pounce. A bit underhanded I guess, but how else am I supposed to win over her prickly ass?
“Your personal assistant huh. I don’t know. What would that entail?” At least she wasn’t dead set against it. Proof that I was right in my assessment that she’d have more sense than to turn me down. I relaxed and crossed one leg over the other as I turned to look at her seated beside me. “Why don’t you Google that shit if you don’t understand the meaning? I’ve never had one before so I’m guessing we’ll both be learning together.”
“For now I imagine it would entail errands and shit like that. Making sure I keep after hours appointments, keeping track of my social obligations.” I shrugged and left the rest for her to think about. I wasn’t interested in whether she remembered to pick up my dry cleaning, as much as I wanted to help her out of her present situation. And also keeping her close, two birds with one stone.
EMILY
There was something about his offer but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I know how much a personal assistant makes, mother has had one of those for as long as I can remember and the woman made a good living as far as I can tell. She drove a luxury car and was always adequately dressed for the neighborhood. I could always take a look at the books to see just how much she made. I’m sure it wouldn’t be close to what my allowance used to be, but it was better than nothing.
It’s weird that his offer should come at this time on the heels of the disastrous expose. I’d only just accepted earlier in the evening that I would have to find another source of income once my closet was depleted. I could and will sell off some of mother’s old things, but those too wouldn’t last forever. With a job and a bit more downsizing I just might be able to pull this off.
“How much will this job pay?” If his smirk had carried even a hint of ‘aha’ in it, I would’ve asked him to leave. But it was more a ‘good girl’ kind of look, or that’s what I choose to convince myself of.
“We’ll start at a hundred and fifty grand per year for now.” I almost fell out of my chair. I was sure that some assistants made that much, but they usually had more experience.