Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
I knew she was mine. There was no doubt. And I intended to get inside her as fast as possible and make my fantasy a reality by putting my baby in her belly. Fuck. This woman was going to make me a daddy, something I hadn’t even realized I wanted until I saw her.
Everything else was forgotten as I jumped to my feet and stalked swiftly out of my office. “Blake!” I attempted to hide my hunger with a jovial tone. My head of human resources turned and looked at me as if I’d grown another head. “I’m here to welcome our new interns,” I fibbed. It was partly true, but I was only interested in one.
“Um...interns,” Blake mumbled with a confused frown. “This is Rhett Whitney, CEO and owner of Whitney, Inc.”
They were all gaping at me with looks of surprise and a lot of hero worship, which made me uncomfortable. Yeah, I’d made the World’s Sexiest Billionaire Bachelors list a couple of times, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Apparently, short, light brown hair, green eyes, a strong jaw, and narrowed chin with some perpetual scruff did it for some women. Add that to the fact that I kept myself in top shape, which meant defined muscles that would have been bulky on someone who didn’t have my large frame, and it seemed I was worth being added to a list that only made my life more annoying.
That damn article, which my brother had done the phone interview for—behind my back—had haunted me with every love letter that arrived, every pair of panties thrown my way, every woman—and man— who eyed me like a piece of meat. If I’d been remotely interested in a relationship or believed any of these women weren’t seeing dollar signs when they looked at me, I might have been open to the idea. Instead, I had to hire a private security team and bodyguard because some truly psycho people existed out there.
I only cared what one woman thought about me, and I scrutinized her expression to catch any hint that she felt a sliver of the connection that had slammed into me. Her features were mostly neutral, but her eyes were trained on my face, and I felt the zip of electricity snap between us. Then—for only a couple of heartbeats—her eyes dropped to take in the rest of me, and when they returned, there was a spark of appreciation.
Okay, she’s definitely attracted to me. I can work with that. I’d have her in my bed, legs wide open, and filling her womb with my come in no time.
Blake cleared his throat, and I rattled off a bunch of platitudes—welcome, glad to have you, I’m sure you’ll do a great job, etc., etc., etc. My gaze stayed glued to my woman’s face the whole time, and eventually, though she tried to hide it, she squirmed self-consciously.
When I finished speaking, Blake thanked me and urged the group to follow him once more. I was sorely tempted to grab the object of my growing obsession, but a voice in my head was yelling at me to stop thinking with my dick and have some patience. It was annoying as fuck...but not wrong.
Clenching my hands into fists, I glowered as I stomped back to my office. I needed her near, and the only way I could think to do that was to make her one of my assistants. Luckily, one of them had just been promoted so there was a spot open. However, it was unlikely an intern would be qualified, so I was going to have to come up with a plausible explanation that didn’t include, “Because she’s mine, and I need her where I can fuck her any time I want.”
I stopped at Lois’s desk since it often came in handy that Lois seemed to know everything and everyone around here. “The red-haired intern in the front of the group. In the gray skirt and white blouse.”
Lois raised a brow and waited.
“Find out who she is and send me her resume.”
She cocked her head and studied me for a minute, likely debating whether it was smart to pump me for more information. Wisely, she simply nodded and turned back to her work. I wasn’t ready to talk about my future wife. Not yet.
I intended to google her while I waited, but by the time I had unlocked my computer and signed into our private server, bypassing the firewall, my email pinged with a message from Lois that had several attachments. I printed them out and relaxed in my chair as I read the information in her personnel file. Her name was Charlotte Kennedy—beautiful. But it would be even more so when it was Charlotte Whitney.
Twenty-one, although her birthday was in a couple of months.