Total pages in book: 224
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 215705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1079(@200wpm)___ 863(@250wpm)___ 719(@300wpm)
“He’s a hot piece of arrogant man. That means demanding and difficult.”
“Yes to all. Is that a problem?”
“Just one of my random observations.”
Which I normally like, but at this moment, I’ve had enough arrogant, demanding man for one day, and the day has only started. “An accurate one,” I say, and with that, she stands and heads for the door while my phone buzzes with my father’s extension. I pick up the receiver. “Yes, Reid?”
“Yes,” he says, as Sallie shuts me inside my office, in what could represent peace, if not for this man on my phone. “I like that word,” he says. “My secretary, Connie, is joining us tomorrow, after the announcements. I need her cleared to get past security.”
I wonder if he’s been between Connie’s legs and before I stop myself, I say it. “Have you been between Connie’s legs, too?”
“No. I have not. I told you—”
“You don’t fuck where you work unless it’s a public service, and who knows how easily you decide it’s a public service.”
“Never,” he says. “As in never, Carrie, but you changed our dynamic, not me.”
“For the record,” I say. “I never planned to actually—”
“Have an orgasm?” he supplies. “Those are the best kind. The unexpected ones.”
“I didn’t say it was good,” I say.
“You didn’t have to,” he says. “I was there, remember?”
All too well, I think. “I’ll have my assistant Sallie handle Connie’s security clearance,” I say tightly.
“I’ll have her call Sallie. When can I expect you and those reports to be back in my office?”
“Soon,” I say, which translates to too soon.
“In other words, you haven’t had time to call your father and talk about me.”
That comment pisses me off. He’s trying to find out if I function without my father. I don’t say a word. I hang up, grab my MacBook, round my desk, marching out of my office and toward his office. This man will not make me cower, and damn it, I think, when I reach the door about to open it, he will not make me quiver, quake, or moan either. Period. The end. I won’t let it happen.
With that vow, and once again, without knocking, I open the door and walk into Reid Maxwell’s new office, ready to prove I mean it.
Chapter seven
Carrie
Ienter Reid’s office and pull the door shut to find him, once again, sitting behind the heavy wide desk that somehow fits him, like this entire office fits him a little too well. This isn’t his place and yet it is, and I still haven’t had time to digest this, to accept it. He arches a brow and looks too damn good doing it. He’s so damn good looking that it makes every arrogant action ten times more arrogant. “Did I hear a knock?” he asks.
“You did not,” I say, and I offer no apology. I walk toward the small round conference table to the left and just in front of the sitting area, and claim one of the four seats, choosing the one that allows a view of Reid and the door. “Which email do you want the reports sent to?”
He stands up, towering over the desk. He is just as big as he is good looking. Tall and broad with the kind of body that comes from hard work and good genetics. His brother looks just like him. He’s probably just as arrogant.
Reid grabs his own MacBook and crosses to claim the seat immediately to my left, no doubt to allow him a view of the door as well. Close. So damn close that his knee brushes mine and I quickly yank it away. Heat radiates up my leg, and my God, my sex clenches. Those full, harsh, beautiful lips of his quirk with my reaction. He now knows that outside of me intentionally seducing him, he affects me, and I hate him and me for it, too.
I want to get up and change seats, but I can’t without handing him power that I won’t give him. Not when he already has too much. “You can’t reach your father,” he says, “but you rushed in here to prove to me that you don’t need to speak to your father to do your job.”
“I didn’t try to reach my father,” I say, leaving out the part where I’ve tried plenty and failed. “Which email do you want these reports to go to?”
“Reid underscore Maxwell at Maxwell dot com. Tell me exactly what your father told you about the takeover.”
“That’s irrelevant,” I say, keying in his address and attaching my document before hitting send. “The file’s in your inbox.”
“What did your father tell you?” he repeats.
My lips tighten. He won’t let this go. “On a professional level, he told me nothing we haven’t talked about.”
“I want more than that.”
“I’ve gathered that to be your way in all things.”