“They’d better, or there won’t be a cover. See to it. Arianna’s on the cover with me or no deal,” I say crisply.
Jacob looks at me in shock but quickly scans my face, reading me like an open book. “Whatever you say. Consider it done.” He narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued, and that’s never a good thing. I wait for the interrogation, knowing it’s coming. “Anything we need to discuss, Liam?”
“No,” I say, not leaving room for further questions. “But I do need one more thing.”
“What’s that?” Jacob asks, lowering his phone where he’s probably already emailing Helen about my stipulations since he’s so damn good at his job.
“Find out who Arianna reports to and get back to me.”
He’s got that look on his face that tells me I’m doing something that he calls ‘fuck stupid’, but I don’t care. “Dude, are you trying to—”
My look silences him, and he sighs. “I’m going on the record now that I’m against this, whatever this is. Man, you can’t chase pussy around the office. ‘Don’t shit where you eat’ is a saying for a good fucking reason. And an intern? Really, Liam? I can see the HR nightmare coming already.”
I glare at him, letting his argument roll right off me. I do what I want and we both damn well know it.
He clenches his jaw, and I know I’ll hear more on this, but for now, he gives in. “All right, I’ll get that for you as soon as possible. You put me in charge of the interns anyway. It’s in my office somewhere.”
“Good. And tell them to hurry up and clean this place up. I want work back to normal here in an hour.”
Jacob leaves, and I settle in my chair, one thing and one thing only on my mind.
Getting Arianna in my arms again.
* * *
After the photoshoot is over, whirlwind only begins to describe the rest of the day. I quickly get bogged down by work and two conference calls, and I temporarily forget about what happened earlier.
Temporarily.
Now, as the last glow from the setting sun fades to deep purple in the west, I can’t stop thinking about her as I sit in my office, my back turned to the door while I watch the city from the floor-to-ceiling windows that give me a commanding view of downtown.
Those brown eyes. That smile. The way her tits felt pressed against me . . .
My thoughts of Arianna are interrupted by my phone ringing, and I turn away from the skyline, my cock yet again hard in my slacks. It’s probably the worst time for a stiffie, considering whose customized ringtone, Avicii’s “Hey Brother”, is playing on my phone.
“Hey, big bro!” my little sister, Norma Jean, chirps sweetly. Just turning twenty this year, she’s the most important person in my life, even if she does push all my buttons sometimes. It’s not her fault she’s still wearing little girl blinders about our asshole of a father—although he’s admittedly been a kinder parent to her than he ever was to me, something I think Norma Jean’s mother had a heavy hand in. Maybe if my own mother had been stronger, I would’ve had a different father-son relationship with him too. But that ship sailed long ago.
“Hey, NJ!” I say. “What’s up? I’m a little busy.”
“Oh, please.” Norma laughs. “I know your schedule. You’re almost done with work and were probably looking out the window while considering your kingdom and coming up with your next plan to take over the world.”
Damn, she’s good. Still, I can’t let her know she pegged me exactly right. “I’m never done with work. You know that. And my kingdom is everything the light touches . . . everything,” I say in a wise voice. I must’ve watched The Lion King with her a hundred times when she was young, and I’d wager that she still watches it pretty often, even if we don’t sit down and marathon watch movies together anymore.
“Slick quote usage, Liam.” I can hear the smile in her voice as she remembers those nights curled up on the couch too. Back then, I’d been barely a teenager and she’d been the toddler little sister my father had sprung on me with his new wife, my stepmom. I’d never felt like I was being replaced simply because I’d never felt like I’d had a place in my dad’s heart to begin with. But Norma Jean did then and still does. Her sweet laughs and strong will had let her worm her way into my heart all too easily back then. “So, Mr. Busy, what did you do today?”
I secretly love when she does this, call just to catch up. Everyone else wants something from me. She just wants to chat. It’s a rare treat for me. “Oh, a bit of this, some of that, some conference calls, a photoshoot and interview, a few contracts. The usual.”
Just as I gleefully expected, she screams, “A photoshoot and interview?!? What the hell, Liam? Tell me all about it. You know I live for that stuff.”
“I know. But it’s hush-hush, top-secret, okay?” She hums her agreement, so I tell her all about the interview with Cutting Edge, making sure to give all the details I know she wants.
She sighs blissfully. “One day, that’s going to be me. I’m going to be sitting in penthouse offices, interviewing bigwigs, and finding out what makes them tick. I’ll get all the low-down dirt on the country’s biggest companies. And then maybe politicians too—that’s where the real gritty stuff is.”
I can hear her excitement, her passion, and I smile at how similar to me she sounds. We’re both driven to the point of near-obsession, and we get what we want ninety-nine percent of the time. “You’ll do it too. Get your degree, work your ass off, and you can do anything, Norma.”
“I did apply for a job at the university newspaper. It’s really competitive, and they mostly only hire seniors, but my interview went really well. Even if I get it, it’ll probably be small human-interest stories for a while, but it’s a start. Cross your fingers for me.”
I recognize that this is a big deal for her, a reach for something she really wants but isn’t sure she’s ready for. But I know she can handle it. “You don’t need crossed fingers or luck, Sister. You are ballsy and brave and have more brains than just about anyone I know. You’d be a perfect journalist for a hell of a lot more than puppy adoption stories, and they’ll see that. So swallow those nerves and go get what you want.”
It’s my version of a pep talk, more ‘work for it’ and less ‘you deserve it’ because I’m well aware we don’t always get what we deserve, but we damn sure get what we work for.
“Thanks, Liam. That means a lot, especially from you. I tell you what. When I get hired, I’m going to interview you and do an insider’s look at the country’s hottest CEO.”
I notice she didn’t ask but rather told me, and I smirk at her assumption. Big clanging balls on that girl. Nobody tells me what to do, except her . . . and sometimes Jacob.
As if my thoughts conjured him, Jacob steps in, and I hold up a finger, having him pause. “Listen, gotta go. Keep working hard and nothing’s going to stop you. Love ya.”
She responds in kind, and I hang up, turning my attention to Jacob.
“She’s a college student. Summer internship,” Jacob says quickly, setting a file on my desk. I run my thumb along the label . . . Arianna Hunnington. “She’ll be gone in two weeks until next semester . . . assuming we bring her back.”
I tap my fingers on the file, quickly fingering out a quick little rap beat as I think. Two weeks to make her mine.
Or to make her stay.
Either way . . . I’ll have my way.
“I can almost see the dirty thoughts running across your face and I’d like to reiterate my stance that this is a bad fucking idea. A human. Resources. Nightmare. With a side serving of PR shit show for the company you’re supposed to be taking into the next market wave. Liam?” Jacob asks harshly as I finish my beat.
“I want her moved up here,” I declare, turning to him and completely tuning out his reasoning. He’s right, he almost always is, but I don’t care this time. “Starting tomorrow, she’ll be my secretary.”
“Huh?” Jacob asks, confused. “She’s just a college intern. And in case you didn’t notice
, you don’t need a secretary. You have an executive assistant. Me.”
“Well now, I’ll have a secretary too. It’s not like you can’t use a little assistance from time to time.”
Jacob shakes head. “There are protocols we have to follow. You can’t just move her up like that.”
That’s Jacob. If he can’t get me to listen to reason, he’ll try another tactic. He learned that from me, and he is always a stickler for the rules. “Such as?”
“Well, she’d have to be interviewed.”
“Fine. I’ll conduct it myself.”
Jacob shakes his head. “You can’t just interview her yourself! There are rules—” Jacob stops when he sees my expression. He should already know I’m going to get what I want. And I want her. “Fuck it . . . we’ll interview her together. Satisfied?”
He sighs and nods but gives me a hard look.
“Get her up here,” I growl. “Now.”
“Now? She may have already left for the day,” Jacob reminds me as he looks at his watch. “You know, most people go home about an hour ago.”
He’s got a point. “Tomorrow morning then. First thing.”
Arianna
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe what happened today. I mean, going upstairs to deliver some papers to the top floor was already exciting, but to then be picked out of the crowd and pulled into a photoshoot with Liam Blackstone?
Holy Fuck, that man is sex in a suit. He’s an alpha in every sense of the word, people scurrying to do what he says, not because he’s wealthy or the boss but because he has this air of dominance. I’ve never felt anything like that before, the weight of his very presence effortlessly drawing my attention and tuning my body into his.
I’ll admit that the feeling of being pressed against him, his cock hard on my ass, was shockingly erotic. The desire and surprise in my eyes as I looked over my shoulder at him weren’t pretend like usual. And I’d had a weak moment when we’d separated where I wanted more, wanted it all, had even considered for a moment that he might be The One, considering the way he made me feel. But that’s a danger zone I don’t need to venture into . . . no sex, not now. Not until my career is on target and I find the right man, preferably in that order.
But there’s no harm in fantasizing, and I definitely did that as soon as I got home, touching myself to the thoughts of his hands on my body, his whispered words hot in my ear, his thick cock taking my pussy for the first time.
* * *
The next morning, I’ve barely walked in the door before Dora is riding me. She follows me into the breakroom, and as a peace offering, I make her a coffee while she complains about the time I spent away from my desk yesterday. “I had to pull another intern from her duties to cover for you, so you’ll be returning the favor to her today and handling her tasks.”
I nod, not interrupting her tirade as I hand the steaming mug over, made to the exact specifications I know she prefers, and she accepts it without a single word of appreciation. I turn back around to make my own cup of caffeine nectar, wishing I could have something stronger to make dealing with Dora a bit easier. I wonder if there’s an espresso machine on Mr. Blackstone’s floor?
“Your to-do list is on your desk so you’d best get started because I expect it to be complete before you leave today. You’ll need to stay on task today, Ms. Hunnington.” Dora huffs at me with a stern look.
“Of course, Ms. Maples. I did complete the tasks you assigned me yesterday. I apologize if the change in plans once I got upstairs left you short-handed.” It takes everything I can to apologize to her, especially since I know I didn’t do anything wrong. When the CEO tells you to do something, you do it, and she damn well knows that. But she’s getting too much evil joy out of putting me in my place.
“Hrrmph. You’ll be staying behind the front desk today, that’s for sure, because apparently, you can’t be trusted to complete a simple delivery task upstairs.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
Someone clears their throat from the doorway and Ms. Maples and I both turn to look. “Excuse me. Ms. Hunnington?”
It’s Jacob Wilkes, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than here. Speaking of, why is he here? The ground-floor coffee room isn’t exactly his area of the building.
Dora looks at me with smug glee in her eyes, and I realize that Mr. Wilkes is not just looking at me. He’s looking for me, which can’t be good. “Yes, Mr. Wilkes?” I force myself to stand tall, refusing to wilt like some mild-mannered nitwit. If I’m getting fired for doing that photo shoot yesterday, I’ll be pissed since Mr. Blackstone is the one who demanded I do it in the first place. “Can I help you?”
He scans me up and down, not creepily but almost analytically, and then sighs. “I need you to come with me, please.” He turns. “Dora, I overheard your assignment and I’m afraid Ms. Hunnington won’t be at the front desk today. Please reorganize staff as you see fit.”
She dips her chin, and I swear I can see her fighting the urge to fucking curtsy. “Of course, Mr. Wilkes. I have several other interns who are more than qualified to do what Ms. Hunnington isn’t able to do.” The dig is sharp and hits home, just as she intended.
Mr. Wilkes doesn’t respond, just tilts his head at me, silently telling me to follow him. And like a damn puppy, I do, following him obediently across the foyer to the elevator, watching as he pushes the button for the top floor, and down the hallway to Mr. Blackstone’s office.
“Wait here, please,” Mr. Wilkes says after seating me in the plush leather chairs now rearranged in front of the desk. The click of the door closing sounds like a gunshot, right to the heart of my career. Dead before it even really started.
I feel like I’m a bag of silverware. Everything is jangly as my nerves go into overtime and my mind races through possible scenarios. Why am I here? Is it about yesterday? Was Mr. Blackstone as hot for me as I was for him?
Hold up, let’s hit the brakes right there . . . that’s only in my dreams. More likely, I’m about to get fired from my internship and lose any chance at a good reference or post-graduation job I might’ve had.
All my thoughts black out at that, the pit in my stomach sucking down all my hopes like a vortex, and I go vacant. My eyes mindlessly float around the room and I get my first real view of the CEO’s office without the photoshoot madness. It’s spectacularly opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows that give a great view of the western skyline of the city. Right now, the shades are half-pulled and the sun’s starting to peek through the upper windows, but still, the view is breathtaking.
The rest of Mr. Blackstone’s office is just as tremendous and screams him. Rich, dark brown leather chairs sit in front of a huge oak desk. Behind it is another leather chair that looks damn-near like a throne, and the walls are lined in oak bookshelves.
After a minute that seems like an eternity, the door opens once again as Mr. Blackstone comes in, followed by Mr. Wilkes. I’m not sure if I should sit or stand, but I take the safer approach and rise, offering a hand. “Sir, you wanted to see me?”
He smiles subtly as he shakes my hand, the formality awkward considering how physically close we were just yesterday in this very room. “Have a seat, Arianna,” he says, not turning around. “Jacob, you may go.”
“We were supposed—” Jacob starts, then nods at the sharp look he receives. “Of course.”
I don’t have time to wonder what that was about as he leaves, closing the door behind him. Mr. Blackstone gestures to the chair behind me. “Please . . . have a seat.”
I smile a little and sit down. “Thank you. I hope everyone was pleased with the shoot?” I’m fishing, trying to suss out why I’m here without asking outright.
To my surprise, he doesn’t walk to his throne-like chair to sit, instead choosing to sit in the guest chair next to me. I get a whiff his cologne, or maybe that’s just him . . . musk and leather and spice. He smells like power.
“Oh, yes . . . definitely,” he replies, more profe
ssional and formal in his speech than yesterday, but dancing underneath is still the cocky bastard who whispered in my ear and spent last night invading my dreams. I don’t know what the sudden change is about. Perhaps he realized he was being unprofessional and wants to reestablish that level of things.
My confused expression seems to say it all, though, and he chuckles. “I was actually rather impressed with your ability to adapt to the high-pressured situation, roll with the punches, if you will. I wonder if you are usually so adept at doing what you’re told?”
The compliment is tied up in innuendo, and I’m getting whiplash from his switches between professionalism and definitely not-professional. “Thank you,” I hedge. “I enjoy working at Morgan and was willing to take one for the team to insure a positive result for the photoshoot. I’m glad my work was to your liking.” And like a hot knife through butter, I use the same tactic on him as well, mixing a small hint of naughty into my formal words.
He smirks, seemingly enjoying the back and forth play, then leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Let’s cut to the chase. I’m hiring a secretary and you’re here to interview for the position.”
I’m pretty sure my chin hits my knee. Is he fucking kidding me? His secretary? That’s like a fifty-step leap from where I currently sit, and that gig ends in just two weeks. This could be a dream come true. This could be the start of everything. “Uhm . . . but . . . sure.”
His smirk grows as he revels in my brain’s apparent shutdown. “Take a deep breath, Miss Hunnington. I’ll get you a drink.”
At first, I think that he’s going to get me a scotch or something from the small minibar on the side of the room that he goes over to, even though it’s barely mid-morning, but when he comes back with a clear glass of soda water with a twist of lemon, I’m relieved. This is a real opportunity and I’d better take advantage of it.
The Virgin Diaries Page 13
