Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97865 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
“Gross!” Mindy laughs over the phone. “Sounds horrible. Just don’t go back. Tell your mom it didn’t work out. I can ask Harry to give you more hours.”
“I wish. My mom would kill me. Plus, my parents spent the whole day drawing up plans for their new workout room. They’re counting down the days until I’m out of their hair.” I sigh and fall back on my bed, kicking off my heels. Talk about cliché. They could at least turn my room into a game room. Or a bar. They don’t even work out. My dad has a bad back, for heaven’s sake.
“You can always stay with me.”
“I know. I need to tough this out, though. And probably send more resumes in hopes someone throws me a bone.”
“Okay, well, the offer’s there. Sucks your boss is a dick. At least he’s eye candy. You can fantasize about riding him while stabbing his eyes out.” Mindy chuckles. “Actually, that sounds hot. You know, in a morbid way.”
“Vomit. He may be hot, but no thanks.” I’ll admit, at first, he was well on his way to making a cameo in my next sex dream, but as soon as he spoke to me, it was a total turn-off. Not to mention, my life is already a shitshow. The last thing I need is to add lusting for my boss to my list of problems. The one good thing that came from this job was the hiring bonus—and the lead my aunt Rita emailed me for an available apartment lease. “Listen, I’ll see you Friday, ’kay?”
“Yeah, girl. Good luck. Keep me posted on how it goes with the hottie boss.”
“He’s not that hot.”
“I bet he knows his way around a woman’s body. Can you imagine? Did you look at his hands? You know what they say—”
“Dude, no!” Yes, yes, I did. They’re big. Which tells me other things. Big hands, big feet, big. . . “I have zero intentions of doing anything except work for him. And I don’t know if I can even do that. If today was any indication, I might end up poisoning his coffee and moving into a nice jail cell.”
Mindy bursts out laughing, and I chuckle. “Whatever you say. I’ve gotta go. Harry walked in and looks like he’s on a rampage. Love you, girl.”
“Love you.” I hang up and toss my phone onto the bed. Rolling to bury my face into the pillow, I cock my head and spot a new poster on the wall. “Are you kidding me?” I gripe at the kitten in a sweatband holding weights. I turn onto my back. I seriously need to find a job. A different job. One that doesn’t include tight skirts or an asshole boss—and has lunch breaks. Speaking of food, I’m starving. I bounce out of bed. “Mom! What’s for dinner?”
My morning ride to the thirty-fifth floor of the MIC building is painful. How could my mother do this to me?
After inhaling a whole cheese pizza last night, I blasted my resume to every job listing I could find. I pull my phone out of my purse and check my personal email for the tenth time this morning. Still nothing. My shoulders slump. I hate this hollow feeling. I should be behind a flaming hot stove, fulfilling my life’s dream. Instead, I’m walking into a corporate office, reporting for assistant duty. This can’t be my life. Maybe it hasn’t refreshed. I delete five spam emails and stare at my phone while it searches for new mail. Your email has been updated. Nothing. Crap. Not a single nibble. I mean, it has only been, like, six hours, but still. There is no way someone more qualified than me applied for a fish cook position in Alaska.
Desperation sure does look good on me. And honestly, so does this new sleeveless, velvet blazer jumpsuit. It would have looked even better with the scarf I styled it with if I hadn’t spilled coffee on it while running to the subway.
The doors open, and I step into the main office. The friendly receptionist from yesterday, Amy, pops her head up from the desk. “Morning. You made it to day two.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do people normally not?”
She stands and leans over the counter. “He’s kind of. . . tough to work for.”
“You don’t say,” I reply, and we both snicker. “Well, off I go.”
“Have a good day. Oh, head’s up—he’s on an important conference call and gets grumpy when he’s disturbed.”
“Oh, do the fangs come out?”
She grimaces. “Let’s just say you’ll be happy if that’s all that comes out. I’m the lucky one who gets to work double duty every time he fires an assistant.”
I open my mouth to ask exactly how many assistants he’s fired, but her phone rings, and she takes the call. I wave and walk off, dropping my purse on my desk. I’m sure he’ll at least want to know I’m here, so I gently knock on his door and walk in.