I glared at him. This man was such an epic bastard.
“As I thought,” he said arrogantly, “no real backbone.”
His words pinned me under a rock, infuriating me, challenging me. I wasn’t weak or afraid. I just found his reasons for wanting to hire me to be outrageously insulting. Degrading. I mean, where did he get off? Asking me to work for him like this was insane.
It’s like if I were to tell him…
“Fine. I’ll come work for you, Mr. Cole. If you sleep with me. You can be my first fuck. Because I won’t have surgery. I won’t ever be beautiful. And I will never have a hot piece of dick like you in my bed. So if your terms require me to do something I find morally repugnant, then it will be quid pro quo. All the fucking way, buddy.” My chest heaved with heavy breaths as I stood there with my angry fist parked on my hip.
See my damned point, asshole?
Maxwell Cole stared at me for several awkward moments, not a twitch on his lips, not a flicker of fear in his hazel eyes. “Deal.”
“What?”
“I said deal.” He got up, walked toward his desk, and began gathering his things.
Me, on the other hand, stood there feeling like a giant invisible truck, filled with regret, had run me over and was backing up.
What did I just do?
You just threw your own ass under the bus. I didn’t want to fuck him. I certainly didn’t want to work for him.
“Be here tomorrow morning. Keri will show you your office,” he said flatly.
“You—you’re serious?”
He turned and frowned at me. “Don’t go backpedaling on me now, Miss Snow. Not after you’ve just shown me your pretty little teeth and sharp claws. We might make a CEO out of you yet.”
I shook my head no. “Not. Back. Pedaling.” Just wondering where the nearest exit was. Now I really felt like an idiot. I’d just proposed to my future boss that he have sex with me in exchange for my acceptance of his offer.
Wasn’t it usually the other way around?
And what was that other feeling? It was…shock or excitement or something connected to that little spot in my brain that controlled my sexual fantasies.
“Good,” he said. “Have your ass to my house Friday at eight p.m. sharp. And bring your running clothes.”
Today was Wednesday, so that meant I had two days to get psychiatric help. Wait. You’re not doing this. You can’t.
“You okay?” were the words he asked, but his tone and expression accused me of being a spineless coward.
I stared at him, trying to comprehend what was going through this man’s mind. Honestly, I was confused as hell. Possibly frightened, too. He, on the other hand, looked like he’d been given an injection of piss and vinegar. He also looked sort of…happy? Okay, maybe not happy, but excited or determined, like challenging me turned him the hell on. But that couldn’t be right.
“Why aren’t you sweating anymore?” I asked.
He blinked as if startled by himself. “It seems you’re already having a positive effect. Too bad it’s your ability to piss me the fuck off that’s doing the trick.”
Speechless, I turned for the door again and grabbed the handle. I needed to retreat. I was way over my head with this situation.
“Oh, and Miss Snow?”
“Yes?”
“Do me a favor, would you? Fire Craig on your way out. He’s the one waiting for me out there.”
I blinked. “Sorry?”
“It’s your first lesson in running a company: You’ll have to come down off that pedestal of yours and get your hands dirty.”
“What did he do?”
“He’s an asshole.”
“Yeah, but so are you,” I pointed out.
“I have an excuse. He does not.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
He looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I am, and I’m afraid it’s time for my departure.”
Right on cue, there was a light knock on the door.
“Yes,” he replied in a deep, full voice.
Keri’s head of silky red hair popped through the doorway only a foot or so away from where I stood shaking in my heels, probably pale as hell.
“Sir, your helicopter is waiting,” Keri said meekly.
He nodded. “Thank you, Keri.” He then looked at me, but only briefly, before turning to his desk to grab his leather bag. “And thank you, Miss Snow. I’m eagerly awaiting the chance to become acquainted with your many talents.”
Oh shit. That was a sexual pun. No one had ever made one with me before. And the fact it was this guy did something to me. It made me feel a little naughty and sexy and…
No. No way. Absolutely not.
Okay, I hadn’t decided what I’d do about this possible employment situation. But I sure as hell wouldn’t agree to firing that guy sitting outside in the private lobby.
Mr. Cole sailed past us without another glance, leaving behind a trail of his delicious cologne mixed with a spoonful of “don’t fuck with me. I’m the boss.” Did alpha males have their own distinct scent that subconsciously told others to watch their step? Because this man shouldn’t be fucked with. Not ever. He had no fear.
Except of ugly people. Yet, he’d clearly said he would…
Oh my God. I can’t even think it.
Keri and I watched him disappear into the stairwell, to the roof, I supposed.
Once out of sight, I released the breath I’d been holding in. “Holy shit. That man’s…that man’s…” I didn’t have a word. Domineering? Fearless? A huge coldhearted prick? Sexy as fucking hell in the most aggravating way? “…different.”
Keri grinned and nodded. “Oh, you don’t know the half of it, but I prefer the word eccentric. You’d never know from looking at him, would you?”
I shook my head slowly from side to side, feeling like I’d just been trampled by the world’s biggest pair of balls masquerading as a human man. A gorgeous insane man who had the world at his feet, yet had serious issues. “Um…no. I can’t say I would’ve guessed it.”
She smiled warmly and patted me on the shoulder. “Well, if it’s any consolation, he’s a damned marketing genius. Even if only a tenth of what he knows rubs off, you’ll be a god. If you can survive working for him.”
I lifted a brow.
“Just look up ‘perfectionist’ in the dictionary. His picture will be right there.”
Oddly, it was the only thing about the man I’d guessed correctly. A perfectionist. But now as I stood there, my heart pounding inside my chest, my nerves sparking erratically like black market fireworks, a greedy part of me hungered for what he’d offered: Power. Over my own damned life. I was beginning to see there was so much more waiting for me if I was willing to take it, to fight for it.
I took a deep breath, feeling like I stood high on a hill. Off in the distance was a tall rugged mountain with snow on its cap, surrounded by a forest of green trees, its peak so high, it touched the clouds. That was my goddamned mountain. All that stood between us was a whole hell of a lot of rough terrain—quick sand, tar pits, and an enchanted forest with a big, mean sexy ogre toting a huge fucking club.
Suddenly, I felt the surge of determination welling inside me. Perhaps because I now saw how this path clearly lead to my endgame. A beautiful future awaited. All I had to do was push forward and take the job.
I looked at Keri. “See you tomorrow, bright and early.”
“Welcome aboard, Miss Snow,” she said cheerily.
I marched over toward the elevator banks and the seating area where Craig sat with his laptop open, typing away. He glanced up at me with a flavorless expression. “Mr. Cole ready for me now?” he asked prickishly.
I shook my head no. “No, he had to leave.”
Craig let out a huff. “What a fucking dick,” he whispered to himself. “I was up all night preparing this bullshit for him.”
Now, I get how strange this is going to sound, but good old Craig here calling Mr. Cole a “fucking
dick” somehow rubbed me the wrong way. I inexplicably felt like I was the only person in the world who’d earned that privilege. Also, I was at least brave enough to say it to Mr. Cole’s face, and not to some stranger I didn’t even know, behind Mr. Cole’s back. It was completely unprofessional to speak about your boss like that to someone who wasn’t a trusted friend or family member you leaned on for the requisite boss-venting.
“Craig, I’m going to give you some advice: don’t be such a whiny asshole. It makes you look weak.” I walked over and pushed the call button for the elevator.
“Excuse me? Who the hell are you?”
I shrugged, completely blown away by my need to stick up for Mr. Cole. “Lily Snow. And by the way, Mr. Cole says you’re fired.”
His jaw dropped. “He can’t fire me.”
The elevator doors chimed and then slid open. “Apparently he just did. Have a great day.”
As the doors closed, I distinctly heard Craig call me a “fucking ugly bitch.” It was the first time in my life I recalled being unpleasant to someone, who probably deserved it, and it felt kind of…ugly. Maybe because Mr. Cole had just gotten me to do his dirty work.
On the other hand, I did need to toughen up, because working for the boss probably meant doing things outside my comfort zone all the time.
I laughed at myself. Ya think?
I really needed to sit down and figure out how I’d deal with seeing Mr. Cole every day and not allowing it to get to me.
He’s expecting you at his house Friday night. How are you going to deal with that?
Later that afternoon, I went for an insanely long run in the heat, trying to digest my meeting with Mr. Cole.
My conclusion?
Temporary insanity.
Mine, of course.
It was the only explanation for why I’d asked that man—now my boss—to fuck me. I’d wanted to push him and make a point by asking for something as equally appalling as his request to help him with his phobia. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, and I never really expected him to say yes.
Only, he had.
Obviously, I couldn’t go through with it, but now I really wanted the job for my own damned reasons. And I wanted Mr. Cole to respect me. No, not because I needed the man’s approval, but because I needed him to teach me everything he knew and he was not the sort of person who’d waste his precious time mentoring someone he saw as weak and hopeless.
Well, having sex with him is not the way to get his respect. I’d have to think up some way out of it that didn’t paint me as spineless. Hell, he couldn’t stand the sight of me, so it wasn’t like he would mourn the lost opportunity. If anything, it would be the opposite.
I kicked off my running shoes and stripped off my socks, getting ready to take a shower, when my cell rang on my desk.
Oh crap. It was my brother, and I knew exactly why he was calling. “Hey, John. Tell Mom and Dad to stop using you as their spy.”
His deep laughter poured through the phone and immediately put me in a better mood. John, who was three years older, had that effect on everyone. He was warm, genuine, and feisty like me, but there was a sprinkle of shameless comedic smartass in everything he did.
“Sorry, Lily, but they promised to stop coming over to my place unannounced if I give away all your secrets.” John had moved out on his own about six months ago, and my parents had been freaking out ever since, despite the fact John was twenty-eight, very capable of getting around in a wheelchair, and had been basically taking care of himself since he left home for college. Of course, after he graduated, he’d made the huge mistake of moving back home. I think he tolerated the lack of privacy until he started to get serious with his girlfriend. They eventually broke up, and I was pretty sure it was due to my mom’s constant intrusions and mothering—making sure he was up on time for work, cleaning his room while they were still in bed, and washing his clothes, despite his very polite and sincere objections. My father would’ve been just as bad, only he worked during the day—a math teacher at the local high school—and he taught night classes at the J.C. All of which kept him busy most of the time.
Anyway, John’s new job—he was a math teacher, too—didn’t pay much, so I knew his place was small, but I could tell he savored his space.
“Ha!” I laughed. “I wish I had juicy secrets.” Oh, wait. I actually sort of did. It was something I wasn’t used to.
“So do I,” he said. “That’s why I’ve reverted to making up flagrant, inflammatory lies about you—oh, by the way, if Mom asks you about that itch, just tell her you saw the doctor. All clear.”
“John, you didn’t.”
“And that the police dropped the shoplifting charges. Everyone knows you wouldn’t steal lipstick on purpose.”
Oh God. “You’re an ass. They’re probably on the plane to Chicago right now, getting ready to do an intervention.”
“That was the point; getting them in another state.”
“I hate you.” I laughed.
“Be nice, or I’ll tell them you got another DUI.”
“Another one?” I didn’t even drink. I mean, the occasional glass of wine, yes. But that was it. “I’m going to text Mom and tell her you’ve been crying every night because she’s not there to tuck you in.”
“Don’t you dare, Lily,” he warned.
Oh. I dare. “So what do you want?” I asked, but I already knew.
“The job? Did you get it? Mom’s been texting me every ten minutes, asking if I’ve heard anything.”
I had forbidden my overly protective and nosy parents from prying anymore. No more nagging texts, phone calls, or emails. If I had something to share, I would share it when I was damned good and ready. And if you think I’m being mean, let me set the scene. My first week away at college, my mother and father insisted I video chat with them once in the morning and once in the evening to confirm that I was still alive and adjusting to campus life. After a few weeks of that, I began to feel a little stupid. I was in college, and my parents were making me check in with them twice a day. It kind of screamed “loser!” After a few weeks of arguing with them about it, I just stopped doing the chats.
Mistake.
Then they came in person. It took months before I finally weened them off their worried-parental crutches, but I still had to email or call at least once a week or I’d find one of my parents on my dorm-room doorstep.
And I’ll be honest, part of me really felt bad for them. They literally worried themselves sick about me and my brother, which was probably why we never felt unloved. If anything, it was the opposite: “Could you please not love me quite so much? I’m twenty-five now. And I live in another state for a reason.”
Those were the words I’d barked so rudely to my mother during her last “surprise” visit. It was the first and only time I’d ever yelled at her. But during my one year in Chicago, I’d seen my parents five times, excluding my trip home for Christmas. They were out of their frigging minds and definitely couldn’t afford it on my dad’s salary.
“So?” John asked. “Did you get the job or not? And if you say ‘not,’ please tell me it’s because the guy demanded sex and got fresh with you. That would guarantee Mom and Dad getting on the red-eye to console you.”
I felt my blood pressure do a little dip. His comment hit too close to home.
I sat down on my bed, thinking about how to respond in a way that would prevent any parental concern.
“I start tomorrow, but I’m not sure it’s going to work out with my new boss,” I said. In my heart, that was the truth.
“Well…congratulations! But why aren’t you sure?”
“I really don’t want to talk about it.” I wasn’t in the mood to spin a big fat lie, and the truth wasn’t an option.
“Lily, you’ll have to do better than that or get ready for the avalanche of text messages and phone calls from Mom. What happened?”
Okay, so this was the part about my family that I loved, but also drove me crazy. They wer
e protective to the nth degree. They wouldn’t stand for anyone treating me badly for any reason. My brother had been known to show up a few times unannounced, along with my father, to my high school after learning a guy had said something mean to me. My mother had the principal on speed dial. For as long as I could remember, they acted like a vicious pack of wolves when it came to protecting me, and I couldn’t exactly claim to be much better. I’d kicked the crap out of a girl who’d once decided to use my brother as her personal trash can for her unwanted lunch tray. Then there were my friends—the Lisa “fruit cup” incident was only one of many.
Regardless, we were grown now and didn’t need protecting. We could stick up for ourselves just fine.
“I can’t deal with this right now, John. I gotta go.”
“Lil, tell me what the asshole did.”
Jesus. “He didn’t do anything. I just need to decide if C.C. is really what I want. Mr. Cole is very…tough to work for,” I said.
“Liar. You’ve been talking about this job for months. I think you’re afraid you can’t cut it. But you will, Lily. You’re our little flower who fears nothing.”
“Thank you, John. But I really have a lot to do.” Mainly some serious thinking.
There was a notable pause. “Good luck, Lily. I’m proud of you no matter what.”
John could be such a shithead, but he was also a good big brother.
“Thanks. I’ll call you next week and tell you what happens.”
“Okay. But don’t forget, or I’ll tell Mom you’re in jail.”
I laughed and ended the call. I knew my family meant well and just wanted to know what was going on with my life, but I wished they weren’t so neurotic about it.
Staring at my phone, feeling a little pang of guilt, I picked the damned thing up again.
Me: Hi, Mom. Interview went well. But not sure the job is what I really want. Will keep you posted. BTW, I spoke to John. Sounds like he’s not eating or sleeping. Think he’s lonely. Maybe you should check up on him?
I grinned, imagining John’s face when my mother showed up tonight with groceries and her slumber-party gear. She’d probably stay on his couch for the next week.
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