Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84401 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“I don’t have clothes that fit the occasion.”
“Buy them,” he said, then pulled out his wallet from the back of his jeans and handed me a golden credit card. “My birthday is my PIN code. Go to Harrolds or David Jones.”
I took the card gingerly. “You trust me with your card?”
“Do you plan on breaking my trust?”
“No,” I said firmly. “But you don’t know me very well yet. Did you give all your assistants your credit card?”
“No. But I doubt you’ll run off with my money. And my former assistants didn’t come recommended by Connor.”
“Connor only recommended me because Fiona bugged him, you know that, right?”
Xavier chuckled. “Yeah, he’s whipped.”
I slipped the card inside my purse. I’d have to guard it with my life. I doubted my year’s salary would be enough to pay off the debt I’d gather if someone stole the card and went all out with it.
My eyes were drawn to a medal in a frame above the bed. I moved closer. “Clive Churchill medal. Best Player Grand Final 2017,” I read aloud. I looked toward Xavier. His expression had changed, had become almost…reverent. “You won the medal as best player?”
He nodded. “Once. But I have every intention of winning it again this year. My team is the best in the league. We need to win the final.”
It was obvious by the fervor in his voice and his keen expression that he really lived for his sport, which made his scandalous lifestyle even less explainable. I knew as a fly-half Xavier had a lot of responsibility directing the play of his team, and yet he couldn’t be bothered to organize his own life.
Before I left the apartment, Xavier handed me his spare keys. “So you can come in.” He said it with a devilish grin. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”
My alarm sounded at six thirty, which gave me enough time to get ready and have coffee before I had to head off to wake Xavier and prepare coffee for him.
I couldn’t believe Xavier needed an assistant to wake him. How hard could it be to set an alarm? I drank my coffee in quiet, watching the early morning sun glittering on the ocean from the kitchen window. Fiona and Connor were still asleep, or doing other things I didn’t want to think about. Fiona had spent an hour last night interrogating me about my meeting with Xavier. If she kept up the surveillance, even my ridiculous salary wouldn’t be worth it.
When I arrived at Xavier’s apartment thirty minutes later, I wondered if I should make sure to be as quiet as possible or announce my presence audibly. I really couldn’t believe that a grown-up man required waking up. Maybe this was only part of him testing me, but from what his brother and Connor had hinted at, Xavier was indeed too lazy to organize even that small part of his life.
Opting for the quiet option, I pushed the key into the lock and turned it carefully before I slipped in. A low noise, like a groan, startled me. Maybe Xavier was having a nightmare. My annoyance wavered as I considered that he had something that bothered him enough to haunt his nights. Maybe he hid a soft side behind all those muscles and arrogant smiles.
I set my purse down on a barstool at the kitchen island and made my way toward the winding staircase. Another low noise made me walk a bit faster, and I hurried up the staircase, hoping he didn’t expect me to serve him coffee in bed. The moment I reached a point at the staircase that allowed me to get a good view at the bed, I froze completely and let out a gasp. Only my hand on the rail stopped a very undignified fall.
Xavier wasn’t alone, and he wasn’t sleeping. It took my brain a moment to comprehend the scene before me. A woman was lying on her back before Xavier, her ankles on his shoulders, and he was gripping her hips and thrusting into her. That had been the source of the strange groans, which were now accompanied by the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. I really wished she were a screamer, then I wouldn’t have headed upstairs.
Both turned my way. Heat rushed into my head.
I whirled around, mumbling some half-ass apology, and stumbled downstairs, my heart beating in my chest. Was I supposed to leave? I could hardly stay while they were at it. The bedroom wasn’t really separated by a door from the living area below. What if they kept doing it as if nothing had happened?
But he had told me to wake him, he was paying me to do it. Maybe this really was a test. I wouldn’t put it past him. Or maybe he just didn’t care if someone watched him getting it on? I couldn’t believe I’d worried he had a nightmare, couldn’t believe I’d entertained a second of pity for his soft side. Soft side. He definitely hadn’t looked soft a moment ago.