Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37761 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
While most women did whatever they could to grab his attention, she had always stood out, had always been different without even trying. The first time this brat had entered his life, she had been one of the dozen applicants to make it to the final stage of his recruitment process. The last test was to complete an obstacle course, and unknown to them, Etienne had an audio patch installed in the car so he could listen to how the driver operated on his own.
While she hadn't been the only female to apply for the job, she had been the only fucking one to invoke his name like a curse and say things like 'I'd never have applied for this job if I had a choice.' It had been interesting to say the least, but what truly clinched the deal for him was when the results had come out. Although the brat hadn't registered the fastest time in completing the obstacle course, she had been the only driver that day to keep her vehicle free from any damage and her passenger dummy free from any serious injuries.
That meant everything to someone like him, whose life was constantly under threat, and when he had hired her on the spot, he had taken extreme pleasure in letting her know he had heard every word she had said about him.
'Everything?' she had asked, as if wanting to make sure.
'Yes.' He had expected her to apologize after that, but instead she had looked at him like she wasn't certain he still possessed all his marbles.
'You heard everything,' she had remarked dubiously, 'and yet you're still hiring me?'
That had set the tone for their working relationship, and although there wasn't ever a week he didn't threaten to fire her and she didn't threaten to quit, both of them had known they were just words. The truth was, everyone who directly worked for Etienne knew that the brat had become his stress reliever, and there was no time he was more relaxed than when he was trying to get a rise out of her.
Could that be why, Etienne thought broodingly, he had failed all these years to realize that there was an incredibly fuckable woman hiding underneath all those hideously drab suits?
IF LOOKS COULD KILL, Spencer would be long dead by now. The boss had been giving her murderous looks for several days now, or more specifically, ever since she had returned to work after taking an afternoon off without the usual advance notice.
And honestly, was it really that big a deal? He was a billionaire, for heaven's sake. It wasn't as if he'd have a hard time finding another person to drive for him. It just didn't make sense, and although she had firsthand knowledge of how much of a jerk he could be if he wanted to, she would never have thought he could be this...petty.
He could be rather ruthless with the way he demanded perfection from his staff, sure, but he more than amply rewarded everyone's loyal service with the best pay and benefits. He was no sentimental fool, but he had always been fair and objective, and he had even told her once he appreciated the way she always spoke her mind in his presence, never mind if her waspish attitude could occasionally wear on his patience.
He didn't mind she was a shrew most days, and a total bitch on her red days, as long as she did her job. That were his very own words, darn it, and it was why she had been counting on him being reasonable, once she got back to work and apologized for her unscheduled leave.
But obviously, she was wrong. Dead wrong, actually, with the way he was either acting like she didn't even exist or gaze at her broodingly - almost furiously, in fact - from the backseat.
She really hated to think of it this way, but maybe...maybe this unexpectedly shallow side of his proved just how little Spencer really knew her boss...and, consequently, how mortifyingly silly it was to think she was in love—-
"Fuck."
The expletive, uttered in a low, furious hiss, had Spencer twitching in her seat and her fingers tightening instinctively around the wheel. "Sir?" Her gaze flew to check on him through the rearview mirror, and she saw that his gaze was fixed on his phone. Bad news, probably, but about what? Maybe he was no longer a billionaire, and he was left with just $999,999,999 in his bank account?
If she had found the guts to ask, and he would have been in a mind to answer, Spencer would find out that she was partially correct. It was bad news, but it wasn't over money. Instead, the email that arrived in his inbox was from a company she was also personally familiar with.