Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24777 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 124(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
John Elliston nods, his expression thoughtful.
“And you have everything you need?”
I begin to smile, but then catch myself. There’s no way this guy is motivated by kindness or empathy because John Elliston isn’t built that way. If anything, this is someone who stomps on the weak in order to elevate himself.
“I’m fine,” I say in a polite tone. “We’re fine. We’re getting by on my salary here, so I’m grateful for the job. Thanks, Mr. Elliston.”
John merely chuckles, his gray gaze assessing.
“Yes, but you could use a little help, right?”
I pause for a moment. Of course we could. The lights in the trailer flicker a bit because the wiring is bad. Plus, we’ve been eating a steady diet of boxed mac n’ cheese, canned chili, and stale bread that I buy from Tootsie’s whenever I get my paycheck, using my employee discount of course. But for some reason, I don’t want John Elliston to know. I don’t want this man’s pity, and really, I’d like to avoid him if at all possible.
But how do you avoid the big boss? As a result, I merely smile again.
“We’re fine,” I announce in a confident tone. “Yes, times are tough, but Bart and I will make it.”
John Elliston puts a sorrowful look on his face while shaking his head.
“That’s not the way it should be though. Young women shouldn’t be supporting their fathers at home, because it’s supposed to be the other way around. He should be supporting you.”
I smile, nodding my head as if I understand.
“Yes, but this is just a temporary thing. A blip on the radar. We’ll get past it in no time.”
John nods, still with a sorrowful expression on his face. To be honest, it grates on me. Who is this man to judge me and my family? As far as I know, John inherited most of his riches, so really, his business empire was staked by generational wealth.
But it does no good to get into a fight with your boss, so I merely smile again.
“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Elliston? Otherwise, I’m going to restock the ice cream freezer.”
I’m about to skip away without waiting for an answer, but my boss holds up one broad palm.
“Actually there is,” he rumbles, that grey gaze devious. “I have a proposal for you, Christy.”
My heart sinks because this can’t be good. I don’t want to hear what it is, but I make myself smile and turn, nodding.
“A proposal? Sure, what is it? I’m all ears.”
John clears his throat, like he’s getting ready to make a big announcement, and then smiles.
“Well, I know your family needs money, and that’s something that I have plenty of. I thought … well, ah, I’d give you some money.”
I stare at him.
“You’d give me money? For just being me?”
Of course, the disgusting man shakes his head immediately.
“No, not exactly. I’d like to get to know you a little better, Christy. Your body, in particular. In fact, I’ll double your salary if you let me enjoy your curves.”
I stare at him, all the energy draining from my limbs. Is this asshole serious? Does he want me to have sex with him in exchange for a higher hourly rate?
“No can do,” I say in a stiff voice. “Thanks, but no thanks. Besides, I’m a virgin,” I lie through my teeth. “I promised my mother before she died that I’d save myself for my husband, so I can’t. Sorry, Mr. Elliston.”
But the older man isn’t put off at all. In fact, he taps his fingers together like he’s Scrooge counting his cash.
“Well, there are things we can do that don’t involve taking your innocence,” he says in a smarmy voice. “Plenty of things, in fact. I can teach you.”
I shake my head as disgust runs down my spine. Having this man’s hands on me is the least sexy thing I can think of, and in fact, the very image makes me nauseous. I just went on a date with his son the other night too! Seriously, the Elliston men are too much.
But I manage another smile.
“Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Elliston, although of course, I appreciate the offer. Now, I’ll just head back to grab that ice cream—”
The older man stops me then, his gray eyes flinty.
“No need,” he says in a soft voice. “If I can’t train my employees, then you know what that means, Christy: you’re no longer an employee.”
I turn to stare at him, my jaw on the ground.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” I whisper.
John merely nods his chestnut head.
“Yeah. I need my workers to be flexible, and that means potentially taking on tasks that aren’t a part of their so-called responsibilities,” he says in a silky tone. “You know, going beyond the scope of a job. Being a self-starter. Contributing to the team.”