Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“I believe we have met the terms of your counteroffer, so do you accept the position at my firm?”
“Just business?” she clarifies again.
I give her a thin-lipped smile. “That is the agreement.”
She smiles in a way that soothes every nerve in me and steps closer to me than is professionally-acceptable. Even the small concession of our agreed-upon boundaries has my cock straining.
As if she knows exactly what she’s doing to me, she says, “Yes, I accept. See you Monday morning, Mr. Sharpe. Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
I’m frozen in place as she climbs into the car and it pulls away. I watch the red taillights turn the corner, swallowing.
There’s no fucking way I’m going to be able to keep it just business between us.
CHAPTER 13
RAVEN
My heart hammers, excitement and fear course through my veins, and my nerves tingle as I step into the Baxter building, the skyscraper that houses Dylan's hedge fund. Any other time I’ve visited buildings like this before, it’s always been for interviews. And it’s always the same—sign in at the front desk, take a seat in the lobby, and get the side eye from everyone as if they can sense I don’t belong. Or at least, that’s what my mind tells me they’re thinking.
This time, there’s more than a little something different about being surrounded by the polished floors, pristine glass walls, and sleek chrome accents. This time, I know that it’s going to become my building, and as I approach the modern reception area, I’m impressed by every little detail, from the architecture to the decor.
“Hi there, you can sign in here.” A petite woman with an upbeat tone and wide smile cuts through my thoughts from her seat behind the large desk that spans at least ten feet.
“Hi. I’m Raven Hill. I’m starting at Sharpe Fund Management,” I tell her. I didn’t realize how incredible it would feel to say that out loud. I have to resist the urge to pump my fist and do a little happy dance after scribbling my name down. “First day.”
“Welcome,” the young woman says, giving me my temporary badge for the elevator as she points across the lobby to it. “They should get you an official employee badge today, so just drop this one off on the way out.”
“Thank you very much.” I answer her smile with one of my own and then nod. “I will do that.”
Swallowing down my nerves, I focus on only the positives and not my clammy hands and racing heart.
I’m starting my new job. This is the moment I’ve worked for.
I clip the badge to the waistband of the skirt I obsessed over last night when I was getting ready. I needed something conservative, professional, and that says ‘trust me with your money.’ And after way too long, I finally decided on a knee-length black pencil skirt. A classic. I stuck with the theme, choosing a tailored button-down blouse that’s a baby’s breath of blue above white, and black high heels. A tasteful watch, stud earrings, and my leather bag complete my outfit.
I even woke up a super-grumpy Maggie at dark-thirty this morning to confirm that I look perfect. I’m walking into the lion’s den, but I’m certainly not going to give them ammunition by showing up in something less than beyond reproach.
The elevator up to the forty-second floor is whisper quiet, with no music and barely even the hum of the elevator’s mechanics audible inside the large, well-lit car. It makes the cargo elevator at my apartment look like a death trap… which it honestly might be, if I remember when the last inspection sticker was dated.
Taking a deep breath as the numbers tick upward, I steady myself. This is an unparalleled opportunity for me, and I can’t afford to ruin it. I know there’s more to Dylan’s offer than just business, or a healthy amount of greed. I know that he wants me, and honestly, he was right on Saturday night. I want him too. I was still hot and bothered when I got back to my apartment, and I was only able to get myself to sleep with the help of my vibrator.
It doesn’t matter. I’m going to prove myself. Stay focused on the mission, Raven.
All of the confidence I manage to delude myself into thinking I have is lost the moment I think about everyone else I’ll meet on the forty-second floor. If America runs on Dunkin, offices run on gossip, and the idea that everyone is going to accept me based on my performance is pretty much a fairy tale.
I’m sure that people at the firm will know I was on Dylan’s arm at the Faulkner charity event, and some have probably heard that Dylan and I fucked. My stomach dropping has nothing to do with the speed of the elevator’s rise.