Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
That he was fucking his employee. That he… No, he wouldn’t think about that. Marc was hot. He was good in bed; hell, he was a fucking professional, so he ought to be.
What was that like? Was fucking Darius different from being with a client? Marc wasn’t faking it. He couldn’t be. And why would he? He knew Darius wasn’t going to fire him if he didn’t sleep with him. Darius had told him that to start with. Marc did believe that, didn’t he? Shit! This was exactly why Darius didn’t fuck employees.
Not that he’d had a lot of chances to enact that rule. Of the five assistants he’d had since Clarice, two had been women, and one had been aggressively straight in the way of a closeted man. Darius had no need to be involved in that shitshow. The other two had been such useless, incompetent pricks, Darius had no interest in them.
Marc was really the first test case for this rule. Darius was failing badly, and he didn’t accept failure.
Get your dick under control.
But even as he thought it, his dick reminded him that it had been just about to get some satisfaction before Clarice called.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted several minutes later when he exited the bathroom and saw the time on his alarm clock. Now he’d barely have time for coffee before he needed to leave. It was Marc’s fault. Fucking bastard.
Because he’s so hot, you wasted time jerking off to thoughts of burying yourself in him.
No.
Yes.
The coffee finished just as he needed to leave. He scorched his tongue trying to get enough caffeine into himself to be able to speak civilly to Clarice when she started grilling him. Then he plunked his mug down on the counter, grabbed his keys, and rushed out the door.
Driving to Ivan’s wouldn’t save any time. He’d just end up circling for ages, trying to find a place to park. So he walked quickly. Clarice was always on time, and so was he, except when he was busy fantasizing about assistants with mouths that could make a man beg.
As he neared Ivan’s, Darius saw Clarice approaching from the opposite direction. Whew! He’d made it.
Why was he so worried? He wasn’t a fucking schoolboy. He was thirty-six years old. But an angry Clarice was fucking scary.
She looked him up and down as the distance between them narrowed.
“You’re not eating right or sleeping enough.”
“You look lovely today as always,” Darius said, ignoring her jibe.
“You don’t.” And people thought he didn’t mince words. “You’re going to sit down in here and tell me all about it.”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Do you think I’ve gotten stupid since I retired?”
There was no winning with her. “I…no. Of course not.”
“Good, because I’d hate to have to embarrass you in front of all these nice people.”
Just as she said that, the door of Ivan’s opened, and Marc and Kathryn stepped out. Motherfucker! Was everything against him today?
He couldn’t stop staring at Marc. Looking away was hard enough when he was in dress pants and a classic button-down like he wore to work, but today he was wearing skintight pants that looked like they were made of pure silver and a pink angora sweater that was just short enough to give peeks of skin above his waistband. It would’ve looked ridiculous on most anyone else, but it was hot as fuck on Marc. He’d gelled his hair too, so it did this swooping thing across his forehead. It wasn’t a style Darius would usually like. At all. And yet… Just like the sweater, he made it sensationally hot.
Marc smiled at him, and he got the feeling Marc knew how uncomfortable he was.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Darius said.
Marc shrugged. “I thought Kathryn deserved to be introduced to Ivan’s bagels.”
“Everyone does. I’m glad to see you called her.”
“Oh, yes, I was most obedient.” Marc was mocking him, but his cock didn’t care. Marc obeying his commands was all he fantasized about these days.
“Marc’s designs are amazing,” Kathryn said. “And I must thank you again for dressing my brother so well.”
Darius beamed at her. “I do what I can for Thorne. Fortunately, he has Riley to help now.”
“True.”
Clarice cleared her throat.
Shit! He’d not introduced her. Marc stole his ability to think with that sexy-as-fuck soft sweater. “Marc, Kathryn. This is Clarice. She hired me and then stayed on when I took over and transformed the shop.”
Marc grinned. “You have my condolences.”
Clarice laughed. “I like this one. You should stick with him.”
Marc nodded. “That’s what Ivan said.”
Darius clamped down on the urge to say something Clarice would make him regret. He stepped toward the door. “We’d best head on in. The line is long, and I’m sure Clarice is hungry.”
She sniffed. “I can wait. You’re the one who’s likely starving since you lay in bed all morning.”