Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Her legs wobbled beneath her, pins and needles attacking her foot. Gasping, she caught her weight on the desk. He was very close and the scent she had picked up on in his closet was now intensified and heated by the warmth coming off his body.
“What does that say?” he barked and jammed his finger to a note scribbled on a slip of paper sitting in the center of the desk.
Scout stared at it, hating the cryptic cursive letters. She thought the first letter was a D and then an O. After that she couldn’t tell. She may have detected a T, but there were too many letters she still didn’t recognize.
Finally he snapped, “Do not touch the desk!” He enunciated each word with a stab of his long, thick finger on the note. “If I took the time to leave you instructions not to touch my personal items on my desk, what makes you think I’d be okay with you rifling through my paperwork?”
Scout gasped as he ripped the pages out of her hand.
“Sir, I—”
“You’re not Bridget. Where’s Bridget?”
She needed to get this guy to not freak out. If he told Tamara, she might wind up getting suspended or worse, fired. This guy couldn’t submit a complaint with her managers or she might lose her job.
“I’m sorry, Bridget called out today. I’m new. I didn’t mean to touch your desk, but I accidentally knocked over a pile of papers.”
A piece of ice settled in his glass and she jumped as she waited for him to speak. She wasn’t usually this skittish around others. Long ago she had mastered keeping her emotions behind an iron expression of indifference, but she was completely out of her element in the presence of this man. She’d observed his wealth and power firsthand by simply admiring the world he existed in, and Scout had never been more aware of her insignificant position in this life.
His cold black eyes scrutinized her dress and gazed dispassionately at her too-large sneakers. He frowned.
Scout batted away a wisp of windblown hair that had fallen loose and accidentally knocked her paper bonnet askew. Righting it quickly she said, “If you’ll just let me collect my belongings I’ll be out of your way.”
He stepped aside, not providing much space for her to pass, and waved his hand for her to be gone. He was broad and daunting, hulking in his power suit over her slight form.
“By all means,” he purred. “Please remove your things.”
Scout scurried past him like a mouse running for its life. Her hands shook as she gathered the vacuum cleaner and wound the cord over its handle. Very aware of him watching her, when her shoe caught on the thick tread of the carpet she whimpered, but kept moving.
She couldn’t remember where she left her basket of supplies. Frantically she searched the surrounding area.
“Looking for something?” He glared at her, his arms crossed over his wide chest, stretching the sleeves of his crisp silk shirt. When her gaze reluctantly met his, she froze.
“M-my basket. I forget where I left it,” she stuttered, hating the way her voice wavered.
“Perhaps you left it with more of my personal items.” His clipped accusation had the effect he’d intended.
Shame and fear for her transgression choked her. Scout’s eyes suddenly spotted the basket of supplies beside his desk. Shit.
Knowing she couldn’t leave the items, she pulled back her shoulders and met his gaze with as much bravado as she could fake.
“Sir, I’m sorry I disturbed your things. I didn’t see your note, but I assure you it won’t happen again.” Her eyes glanced at the basket on the floor pointedly and he followed her gaze.
He looked back at her but said nothing, and Scout had the sense he was daring her to retrieve her things. Her lips twitched nervously at the challenge in his eyes.
She was outmatched. Quickly, she brushed past him and collected her items. He didn’t make room for her to pass and she again found herself cornered behind his desk. The gaping glass view made her feel as though she were on a plank suspended high above the city, being backed into her death by a formidable pirate.
“Whom do you report to?”
Scout’s heart sunk to her knees and she quickly blinked back the sharp sting of tears. Her voice cracked. “Tamara Jones, sir.”
His eyes moved over her face and she took his inspection as her penance, lowering her gaze to the floor. She needed this job. In that moment Scout let go of all her stubborn principles, realizing she would do anything to keep it.
The touch of his fingers below her chin caused her breath to quicken. His large hand tipped her face up so that her gaze met his. His glare narrowed as he inspected her.
She felt naked under his watchful eyes.