Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
I turn the knob and step inside.
Half of me expects to find him sitting on the desk, naked, chiseled chest and abs glistening.
Instead, he’s hunched over a file, wearing his normal suit, and barely glances up as I enter.
“Hello, Mr. Rossi. You called me in?”
He gestures at a chair. “Sit.” And he still hasn’t looked up from whatever he’s reading.
I walk over, hands smoothing my dress slacks. My oversized sweater is a little scratchy and warm, but it’s a safety blanket, a way to hide myself from the world. Nicole’s always telling me to wear something that accentuates my figure, but I don’t want the attention or the fuss, and anyway, Mark never seemed to care.
Mark’s gone now. He’s a snake fucker. Can’t keep thinking about him.
An agonizing minute passes before Renzo sighs and pushes his papers aside. He looks up at me, dark eyes haunted, red-rimmed, exhausted, but there’s a glimmer of that desire again. It’s the way he glances at my lips, the way his tongue pokes out for only a moment as if hungry before disappearing back into his mouth. It’s the way his Adam’s apple bulges, swallowing back his need. I shiver and cross my legs, heart racing.
“I know it’s strange that I asked you to come in on a Saturday,” he says at last.
“It’s okay, Mr. Rossi. I wasn’t busy.”
“Call me Renzo.” He sits back and I get the full brunt of his attention. He’s studying me and not trying to hide it. “How long have you worked here, Madeline?”
“Uh, two years, just about.”
“And in all that time, how often would you say we’ve spoken?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe a few times? I keep to myself and you’re always so busy.”
“That’s true. You do keep to yourself.” His head tilts, lips pressed together. “Except for last week in Lisa’s office.”
I let out a soft whimper and stare down at my lap. “I’m sorry. That was a really stupid, unprofessional decision and I swear, it’ll never happen again.”
This is it. Renzo didn’t call me in for sex—he called me in to fire me in the cruelest way imaginable. Which isn’t a surprise, given his reputation as a cold-hearted bastard.
“Are you sure?” he asks gently, and it’s strange, because I swear he sounds almost… regretful.
Like he wishes I’d change my mind.
I look up, frowning. “Yes, absolutely. I know this is really weird, but I was just trying to do something nice for my boyfriend, and Lisa has all that really good lighting—”
“Boyfriend?” He cocks his head.
“Ex-boyfriend now. We broke up.”
“That’s good. I’m happy to hear that.”
“Most people are a little more sympathetic,” I blurt out before I can stop myself.
But he only smirks. “Do you want sympathy from me, Madeline?”
“Call me Maddie. And no, I really don’t.”
“Okay then, Maddie. You’re single, which means no reason to take explicit photos in the office anymore. It’s a shame, but I can accept it.”
My heart does a double-beat. It’s a shame. Is this actually a booty call then? I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. I still can’t make up my mind, and that’s the most awful part of this.
I want Renzo. He’s sexy as all hell and I find him attractive in a way I’ve never experienced before.
But he’s my boss, and he’s got a terrible reputation, and I know better than to get involved with someone at work.
Oh, god, what a mess. My heart’s at war with itself, wanting a risk, but terrified to screw things up again.
“Why did you call me in today, Renzo?” I like the way his name forms on my lips, and he seems to like it too. He’s looking at my mouth with serious interest.
“I want to have dinner with you.”
I sit back, surprised. Stunned, really. That’s not the answer I was expecting. “Dinner?”
“I have a reservation for two at Les Bouchard. Do you know it?”
“Uh, yeah, but isn’t the wait list at that place like a month long? My friend Nicole tries to get reservations whenever they open up.”
“I’m friendly with the chef. Are you interested?”
“Yes,” I say before I think better. Dinner isn’t sex, but dinner usually leads to sex, at least in situations like this.
“There’s a catch.” He holds up one finger and I shiver. I wonder what that man can do with a single finger. Nothing good, I’m sure about that.
“Which is?”
“I have a proposition for you. And before you let your mind wander, it isn’t what you think.”
I chew my lower lip. “What would I think it is?”
“You’re asking yourself if I called you here to fuck you, Maddie. We both know it. Why else would I contact you on a Saturday after walking in on you half naked just a week earlier, when we’ve barely ever spoken before?”
I clear my throat, shifting in my chair, supremely uncomfortable and more than a little aroused. I’m worried he can see my stiff nipples through my sweater, and my pulse pounds between my legs.