Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 128(@200wpm)___ 102(@250wpm)___ 85(@300wpm)
“So how about I make it up to you with dinner tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m going out with a friend.” A friend? She doesn’t mention that it’s a boyfriend, maybe because she likes Elliot.
“Elliot, stop trying to hook up on company time.”
“I’m just apologizing, sir.”
“Well, stop it before you’re reported for harassment.”
“Yes, sir.” I can’t handle the rage burning in my gut at the way he was interested in her. She’s mine, even if I can’t claim her just yet. She belongs with me, but it’s complicated. I wanted to kill Dickerson, and that’s no fucking joke. The thought of ending the bastard still runs in my head after everything that happened last week. She’s not ready for what I have planned for us. One day I’ll find a way to make her mine, but until that time, I’ll have to keep all these other assholes away from her. She’s like a magnet for horny men.
Chapter Eight
Petra
I swear he looks like he’s going to snap the waiter’s neck. “Mr. Shaw, are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Please call me Jack. After all, I’m calling you Petra.” There’s something sensual in the way he says my name that drives me to find reasons for him to call out for me.
“But you’re the boss,” I remind him, taking a drink of my water while I try to figure out what his intentions are.
“As long as you remember that,” he says in a tone that makes me think he’s not talking about work. My thighs clench together, and I imagine him telling me what to do as he pulls my hair and kisses me hard before demanding I bend over his desk. Heat floods my face so I tilt my head away, looking out toward the window just as a group of men in suits pass by and they notice me. One of them gives me a wink, earning a growl from Jack. Oops.
“You okay?” I ask him as I turn back to him. “You should take a drink of water to clear your throat. Are you getting sick?”
“Sick, all right,” he grumbles. I try to bite back the smile because I know damn well it’s not what’s wrong.
“Mr. Shaw—”
“I told you to call me Jack.” Does he have any idea what he does when he gets all out of control like that? Probably not.
“Jack, you can’t growl and bark at every man that gives me any attention. You’re just my boss, not my boyfriend or husband.”
“We’re at a business lunch.” The waiter just asked me if I needed anything, giving me a smile in the process. It’s not like the guy outright gave me his number or asked for mine. Granted, he did smile at me a lot more and hardly looked Jack’s way, but that’s probably because he looks like he’s ready to kill anyone in a heartbeat.
“And we haven’t discussed an ounce of business, Mr. Shaw. What is it that you wanted to go over?” I ask, trying to do something about this tension growing between him and every single man around. He’s like a wild beast in a fancy suit. I want to crawl in his lap and see if he’ll grunt and growl while he manhandles me, running his hands all over me. I flush as my pussy flutters with arousal. Shit. I clench my thighs together, grateful that we’re sitting across from each other so he can’t see or feel the effect he has on me.
He takes a drink of water and then says, “We have a trip to Vegas this weekend until Tuesday, so I need you to be prepared. Only on Sunday evening will you have time off.”
“Are you serious?” I look at him like he’s crazy as hell.
“I’m always serious, Petra.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Why? It was on my calendar as a full conference, which is listed as something you’re supposed to attend. Do you have something to do?”
“Yes. I have a date,” I blurt out without thinking.
“Break it.” There’s that snarl again.
“What? No,” I argue, taking a bite of my creamy mushroom and chicken rice.
“Yes.”
“I can’t,” I insist, pushing him a bit more.
“If you want to keep your job, you’ll break it.”
What is wrong with me? Am I trying to get fired? “Fine.” I pull out my phone and send a text to Val. Sorry, I have to cancel our date night for a work thing.
Make it up to me later, babe, she replies like the wonderful bestie she is.
I reply, I will with a kiss emoji.
I’ll thank her later. He leans over and sees my message, snarling but not saying anything as we finish our meal quickly.
For the rest of the day, our conversations are short and to the point. He isn’t mean, but he’s not as sociable. I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far with the whole fake boyfriend and if any interest he had is out the window.