Series: Werewolves of Wall Street Series by Renee Rose
Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Why am I seeing your cleavage?”
I look down to make sure my tits aren’t hanging out–they aren’t–then slowly look back up, making a moment out of it.
Frankly, I’m a little pissed. Up to this point, the Big Bad Boss hasn’t personally offended me. I tend to have thick skin. But I happen to think I look great in this dress, and there is definitely nothing shameful or wrong with it. Also, it feels personal. His usual complaints and reprimands are related to job performance, not the way people look.
“There is no cleavage,” I clip because it’s true. The window cut-out in my dress is well above the cleavage area. “Just the skin above my breast bone. Why do you find it offensive?” I tilt my head like I’m genuinely curious, but I’m sure he doesn’t miss the flash of anger in my eyes. “Do you have a hard time seeing skin?”
A muscle tics in his jaw. I’ve gone too far.
“Enough,” he warns, holding up his hand. “Don’t wear that again.” I’m already dismissed, and he’s on his way to his office.
I watch his retreating back, still annoyed. “Should I find a burka?” I call as he enters his office.
Oops. Probably went too far.
He closes the door, ignoring me.
I wait a few minutes. No call comes from HR telling me I’m fired.
Good to know. Blackthroat tolerates a little pushback when it’s deserved, and in this case, it was totally deserved. Where does he get off telling me not to wear this dress?
I text Aubrey, Blackthroat found the peek-a-boo dress offensive. I may or may not have gotten a little snarky with him over it.
Do you still have a job? She texts back.
For now.
I wonder why? I’ll bet he’s into you.
More like disgusted, I type, but her words worm into my veins and give me a little thrill. This is another sign he’s attracted to me, right? My pulse picks up speed.
Brick Blackthroat, the sexy billionaire, attracted to his lowly secretary?
That might be where his disgust came from. He wants me but would never slum with the secretary. Maybe he hates the weakness it shows in him that he even noticed my cleavage.
Is he gay? Aubrey fires back.
I consider the question. I don’t have much to go on, but the more I think about it, the more sure I am that Aubrey’s original assessment is right. I look great in this dress, and it makes him think about doing dirty things with me, which pisses him off.
Oh my God, I so want to do dirty things with him!
No, I type. I take a selfie and send it to her. Offensive? I ask.
Hot! she types back. You look amazing. More please. Wear only peek-a-boo dresses. That would be hilarious.
Lol.
I’m going to hit the store on my way home to find you another one. New life mission. Piss off your boss with dresses that make you look hot.
Brick
On Friday, my little temptress of an assistant comes in wearing another dress with a window to her boobs.
She is screwing with me.
Quite possibly she wants to get fired over this. I suddenly wish I knew more about her, so I can figure out her angle. Is she a feminist who’s taking a stand against the objectification of the female body? Or is she conniving, hoping to get fired and then file a lawsuit? Or is she just testing boundaries, curious to see how far she can push me?
I realize I dug myself into this hole. I showed my hand by saying something in the first place. A guy in control of his urges wouldn’t have to warn his assistant not to wear something that makes her tits look edible. The trouble is, the longer New Girl works here, the more appealing she gets. I like her brains. Her confidence. Her sass. I can’t find anything to complain about the way she performs the job although I still complain, simply to keep her on her toes.
She fields my calls better than anyone has. She’s quick with any task I give her, often beating me to the punch with the requests she can anticipate. She makes decisions she’s really not qualified to make, but I let her because it keeps the idiots out of my office and off my phone line.
I wish to fuck she looked like an old hag.
Because all I can think about is how she would taste with her back flat on my desk and her legs spread wide.
I’ve done my best to keep a distance between us. To ensure our interactions are as short as possible. I don’t like to be in her presence for too long, or her nutmeg and orange scent starts driving me insane.
Yet I also find myself staying in the office more than usual, needing to breathe it in during all hours of the day.