Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90255 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
“Anyway, I still plan to go into social work, but I need a fresh start. Who I dated in the past has no bearing on this job. Especially since there is no danger of history repeating itself.”
If Noah knew how many times I’d pictured my dick in his mouth during the past fifteen minutes, he’d be rethinking that position.
“Look, if you’re that offended by my past . . . indiscretion—”
“I’m not. I give no fucks about who you got horizontal with. I just wanted to hear your side of the story. Joe was the one making a big deal about it.”
Noah’s glare blazed again, but this time it wasn’t directed at me. I probably needed to stop feeding his dislike of Joe, but Joe made it so easy.
“You had the job as soon as you told me why you wanted it,” I said. “You want money? Fine. I got money. As long as you do what you’re supposed to do and don’t try to fuck me over.”
Noah slumped back in his seat. “If you knew, then why did you make me explain all of that? I didn’t take you for the kind of person who liked playing games.”
I stood. My crotch was level with Noah’s face. I hadn’t planned it that way, but it worked.
“Playing games is my expertise. If you want to work with me, and temporarily share this stupid house with me, you’d better get used to it.”
Noah didn’t move. “So I’d be living here. With you.”
“During the week, yeah. I can’t go out.” I lifted my foot and pressed it against the armrest of his chair. My beautiful ankle bracelet glinted in the sunlight. “If I leave the property, the police will hunt my ass down and drag me down to County. I need permission from the court to go anywhere.”
A cringe pulled at the side of Noah’s mouth. “At least your house arrest is in a palace, and you’re not in jail.”
“Right.”
He rolled his eyes. “Is the living situation negotiable?”
I dropped my foot back to the ground. “We’ll talk. Just keep it in your head that I’m not going to morph into Mr. Happy Fun Times. I couldn’t give a fuck about making you comfortable as long as you do your job. And if you do something shady, I will crush you.”
Noah visibly swallowed, but he finally rose so we were eye level. “I can handle it, Mr. Brawley. Believe me when I say this would hardly be the biggest challenge of my life.”
A three-tone chime rang through the property. I ignored it.
“Don’t underestimate me. Or what it will be like to be locked in this mansion with me. I’m not a pleasant person, and no amount of anger management or therapy will turn me into one.” I held his gaze for a full moment longer before heading back inside. “And never call me ‘Mr. Brawley’ again. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To nail down the details with Joe. I told him I was meeting with you. He can handle the rest.”
Noah caught up in two long strides. “I’m confused, are you in charge of hiring me or is he?”
I came to an abrupt stop and wheeled around, finding myself less than a hand’s span away from Noah. I was suddenly very acquainted with the smell of his soap. Citrus.
“Let’s get one thing straight now. You’re my employee. For the next six months, you work for me. I’m in control.”
“So you’ll be there while I talk to him?”
Did he want me there? The relief on his face when I said yes answered the question. Noah Monroe was definitely one weird cat.
We walked through the house and let Joe inside. He was blatantly displeased that I’d arranged this without his approval, and that only made it sweeter. Call it childish. Call it passive-aggressive. Whatever the case, nothing got me going faster than the look on Joe’s face when he realized I’d done something without asking his advice.
We settled in the living room, and I watched Noah during Joe’s spiel about what he’d be doing for me. Which was, essentially, everything. Running my life. Making payments, phone calls, appointments, going places I was supposed to go but couldn’t even if he just had to sit there and take notes, vetting my phone calls and emails, my shopping, arranging services around the property—basically managing me and my house in a way that was so personal I could already feel my skin crawling. It was embarrassing. He had to make sure I took my meds? For fuck’s sake. Was I a toddler? But I didn’t say anything, because if Joe disagreed with me in front of Noah, I’d flip my lid. Boundaries could be set without my manager around to piss me off.
It was a relief when they started talking about rules and money.