Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
The elevator came to a halt, bringing me back to reality. My panties were wet and the urge to squeeze my thighs was so strong shame gripped me. I tried not to fidget as I recalled the insane fantasy I'd just indulged in. What would he think if he read my mind?
When the elevator doors slid open, Mr. Frost stood aside to let me out first. That old-fashioned gesture amazed me; I never expected him to be so gentlemanly after the way he had treated me all day in the office.
Saying nothing, I walked out into the basement, before stopping and turning to face him. And. Wow. The overhead light caught his eyes and turned them translucent. They would have been freakishly beautiful if there wasn't so much frost in them.
"We’ll take my car and I’ll drop you off. You can take a cab to work tomorrow morning. Put it under expenses." Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked away, taking big strides that carried him away swiftly.
Seething at his impervious attitude, I hurried to catch up with him, wanting to tell him that no, I wasn’t going to go in his car, and there was no way I was taking a cab in the morning whether the company was paying for it or not. The problem was, by the time I caught up, Mr. Frost was already inside his car, a gleaming SUV that was as dark as his personality.
I had no choice but to enter.
“Shut the door. I haven’t got all day,” he barked, without looking at me. He was staring straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He was obviously used to giving orders and having them instantly obeyed or he saw red. Even before the door had shut properly, the engine had roared to life and the car was moving.
The arrogance of the man was unbelievable.
What an asshole. He didn't bother to tell me anything about the client we were meeting, nor had he taken the time to check if I had any other plans for the evening. No wonder he never kept an assistant longer than a few days.
It was tempting, really tempting, to tell him where he could shove his stupid job, but of course, I kept my mouth tightly shut. It was not just losing the bet with Maggie, but also my bank account balance that bought my silence. Everything wasn't only about me, my mother needed help with her mortgage until I could convince her to sell her house and buy a smaller one.
In the meantime, she depended on me.
Gritting my teeth, I stayed stiffly silent.
As I usually did when I was feeling down, I searched for a memory that would make me smile. In this case, the one that came was Mr. Frost’s face when I told him I'd finished inputting the data into the system. The way he had looked at me in stunned disbelief before clicking on his computer to check for himself.
That moment was pure gold.
And when he confirmed I wasn’t lying, he looked up at me with a grudging respect in his eyes. It hadn't lasted though, and he had gone right back to his impossibly rude self. Still, my little triumph had carried me through the rest of the day… until he demanded I accompany him for dinner while looking down at me like I was a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of one of his expensive shoes.
I made myself breathe in and out evenly and promised myself that I wouldn't be Mr. Frost's assistant for long. I'd keep applying for jobs until I found the perfect one. In the meantime, I was going to take all the crap that he was going to dish out - as long as it was just words. After all, words had never hurt anybody.
Or so they said.
When we reached the restaurant entrance, he tossed his car keys to the valet. I noticed he didn’t bother to say thank you or even acknowledge the man. It wasn't much of a comfort, but I found myself relieved to see I wasn't the only one he was rude to. It wasn't personal. I stood behind him while he barked something at the hostess. Silently, we followed her across the restaurant to a corner table.
To my surprise, an older woman dressed in pastel-colored, clearly expensive clothes, and a pearl necklace was already at the table.
"Maximus," she cried, staring at him as if he were the most precious object she’d ever laid eyes on. This odd reaction led me to believe she must be his mother. Only his mother could look at him like that. Also, she had the same silver eyes, the only difference was his were hostile and hers were haughty. He bent his face and allowed her to kiss both his cheeks, but I could feel his impatience even from where I was standing.