Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
As dinner dragged on, Chere made it more difficult to look at her by growing increasingly silent. Raneesh didn’t bother to ask her if she was all right, the asshole. In fact, they pretty much ignored her until the end of the meal. Our waiter brought coffee and cream, and Jennifer finally turned to Chere.
“You graduate soon, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Chere glanced at me briefly. “Next month. The end of April.”
“That’s exciting,” said Raneesh, who got excited about everything. “What are your plans?”
“Well, I’ve been putting together a portfolio. Some projects I’ve worked on, accessories and metalware, silverware, rings and earrings, cufflinks.” Her eyes darted toward my wrists. I sported another pair of her creation, small, spare polished-silver ovals in her signature style. “I hope I can interest some of the bigger jewelry houses in my work.”
“Or you could start your own company,” I said. “With your own vision. Your own designs.”
I’d been considering how to give Chere a leg up in a highly competitive business. I thought I might give her some seed money to start her own jewelry line. She could make exclusive pieces for the rich and famous, glittering works notable for their delicacy. She could design under her own name, instead of disappearing into the back rooms of some big conglomerate.
Hannah raised a glass to me. “That’s what you did, isn’t it, Price? Started your own business right out of school?”
“But he went to school for ten years,” laughed Raneesh.
“Yes, and I got four degrees in those ten years. Mainly because I didn’t know what I wanted to do.” I clinked Hannah’s glass, ignoring the way her eyes raked me in the ambient light. I looked across the table at Chere. “Do you know what you want to do, Ms. Rouzier?”
I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to take her back to the hotel and fuck her, and she knew it.
“I’m not completely sure yet,” she said after a moment.
“I was younger than you when I started my firm.” I stirred my coffee to watch the cream swirl on top. “I made a ton of mistakes, but I had an end goal. I still have an end goal. Do you have an end goal?”
My associates watched me, admiring and silent. I was the boss teaching the intern, passing along my experience and power. They thought I was mentoring. No, I was badgering. Do you have an end goal, Chere? Does it involve surrendering to my sexual needs?
“I haven’t made any decisions. My world is kind of...” She spread her hands. “Kind of wide open right now.”
I wanted to spread her legs wide open. I wanted to be inside her. It was so hard to sit across from her and pretend I was just her boss. Why had I brought her here? So I could suffer from 24-7 temptation, instead of the usual 9-5 agony? Great job, Price, you stupid prick.
It would be better at the hotel. Out of sight, out of mind. To reduce temptation, I’d had her room booked onto a separate floor. I hoped she appreciated my efforts.
I raised a hand and signaled the waiter for the check.
*** *** ***
The first few days were busy. We were overscheduled and jetlagged, and Chere bore the brunt of everyone’s irritation. We sent her for coffee and food and electrical adapters, and medicine when Jennifer developed a recurring headache. She was the intern, so she did what we asked.
Then Saturday arrived, and I told everyone to head out and explore the city. I knew they wouldn’t. I knew all of them would work so they’d be ahead on Monday. That was why I’d hired them.
But I didn’t want to work. I went to Chere’s floor and walked by her room, as I’d done a dozen times by now. This time I allowed myself to knock.
No answer. I knew she was there, that she could see me through the goddamned peephole. I knocked again. “Open the door.”
She did, looking irritable and rumpled in her robe. I looked past her into her room.
“Were you sleeping?”
“Resting.”
“You’ve been a sport,” I said, acknowledging her thankless grunt-duty over the past few days. “I’d like to show you Oslo, if you’re interested. If you’d like to go for a walk.”
“A walk?”
“A walk,” I repeated acerbically. “It’s this thing where you advance your feet in a forward motion, perambulating by your legs—”
“Okay. All right. Give me a minute to get dressed.”
She made me wait in the hall, which was wise. I’m not sure I could have restrained myself in a hotel room with her, even a small, rather ascetic hotel room in downtown Oslo. Once she was ready we set off, bundled in warm, high-collared coats. I was relieved we didn’t run into the others on the way out of the hotel. I wanted Chere and only Chere, because I wanted to see the city through her detail-oriented eyes. If I couldn’t have her body, I could at least wallow in her mind.