The Interview Read Online Donna Alam

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
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He’d pressed his finger to my lips. “Don’t date anyone else,” he’d said softly. “Just be with me. I promise not to fall in love with you.”

I fell. That was all it took.

I give in. I surrender to this thing that’s bigger than me. That’s bigger than him. But that doesn’t mean I have to admit to it. As far as Whit is concerned, I’m just making up for lost time. He doesn’t need to know that I’m in love with him. What would that knowledge even do? It might frighten him off. Or worse, it might not.

No, it’s better that he thinks this is just sex. There’s no future for us.

But, gosh, I need to get it together because when my phone rings in the afternoon, and Whit’s name flashes up, my hand shakes like maracas.

“I’ve been expecting your call,” he says smoothly.

“But you rang me.” Okay, so I’m a little slow this afternoon. “Aren’t you supposed to be in meetings all afternoon?”

“Yeah, but I would’ve excused myself to take a call from you.”

“Did you used to skip meetings to take Jody’s calls?” I ask, trying to bring the conversation back to work.

“I wasn’t getting a stiff cock under the boardroom table thinking of Jody naked. Oh, what do you know. It looks like I’ve discovered the cure-all.”

“What are you talking about?” I half say, half giggle.

“The words Jody and naked in the same sentence is an erection killer. It might’ve been helpful if I’d realized that earlier, but better late than never, I suppose.”

“That’s not very complimentary.” I fill my tone with more disapproval than this silly conversation warrants.

“But it’s better for my health this way.”

“Yeah.” My agreement hits the air in a chuckle. “Jody would probably unman you for that two-word sentence alone. She told me last week that the third trimester of a pregnancy should be called the I will cut you stage.” The first is the I want a glass of chardonnay more than my next breath stage, and the second, get your hand off my bump before I snap your wrist. Being pregnant doesn’t sound much fun.

“I can’t tell if you’re playing this really cool or you just haven’t opened the box sitting on your desk.”

“I usually lean more toward dorky, I’m not sure if you’ve realized. Second, there isn’t a box sitting on my desk.”

“According to the tracking information, it’s already been delivered. You’d better get your delicious arse down to reception,” he suggests softly. “Track down your gift before someone else opens it.”

“You bought me a gift?” It’s hard to sound excited and disapproving at the same time.

“Just a little something. Something we both might enjoy.”

The soft hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle. “I hope whatever it is, it doesn’t look suspicious. If I go to reception and they hand me a banana-shaped package, I won’t be happy.”

“It’s not a banana.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So suspicious.”

Our call ends to the sound of his laughter. Of course, I know the parcel isn’t in reception because it’s sitting on his desk. I’d been distracted this morning and assumed it was for him.

I close the door to his office behind me because there is no way I’m opening that box at my desk. Who knows what might fall out. I snicker a little as I round his behemoth of a desk and pull out his chair. Sure enough, the parcel is addressed to me. I must’ve missed it, I think, as I swipe up a fancy silver letter opener that looks like it belongs on a Bridgerton set, and slice the tape. Dropping the cardboard to the floor, I pull out a gift box wrapped in pink ribbon. The box reveals sheets of white tissue paper and a tiny envelope containing a spiky, handwritten note.

Amelia,

Please accept these gifts as a token of my ardent desire.

I can’t wait to see you use them.

Wx

PS You’re a little too old and a lot too lovely to have only balding Barbie dolls in your toy box

I shiver, the sense of excitement and trepidation causing a wave of goose bumps to spread across my skin as I peel away the rest of the tissue to find Whit has gone a little overboard in a high-end sex shop. I pull out sex toy after sex toy, laying them on his desk in a row. After a moment of just staring at them, I order them from smallest to largest, scattering the, erm, accouterments, around the very expensive-looking phallic display. Blacks and golds, each comes in a velvety bag and a fancy name tag.

The Luna.

Aphrodite

Venus

The Blessed Bullet and—

“Whoa.”

I hold what I’m pretty sure is known as a wand in my hand. I might not have owned sex toys because I shared a room at college, then later, my parents never once knocked before stepping into my tiny above-the-garage apartment. Not to mention Mom insisted on popping in to run the vacuum across the floor or help me out with laundry whenever I was at work. Heaven forbid I do anything that might cause me to break out in a sweat!


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