Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Business?” I ask in exaggerated surprise, sarcasm dripping from my words. “If what we did last night is business, then why did you fire me? Huh? Was my performance not up to your standards?”
“Your performance exceeded my standards,” he grits between clenched teeth. “And last night had nothing to do with business, and you damn well know it.”
A warm flush sweeps through me, pointing out that I had been harboring massive insecurity about whether or not last night was any good for him. It eases the anger and levels me out slightly.
I take in a breath and let it out.
“Look,” I say in a conciliatory tone. “I get we crossed a line. It was bad judgment. But I do not see why we can’t hold to what we originally said, that it would be a one and done type of thing. I don’t understand why I have to lose my job.”
“It’s complicated—”
“No, it’s really not,” I cut in over him. His eyebrows rise, showing evident surprise at my nerve, and screw him and his sense of humor… his lips then curve upward because I amuse him.
“Miss Robbins,” he says as if I’m becoming a mild annoyance.
“Don’t Miss Robbins me again, Declan,” I growl. “After last night, we are on a first-name basis.”
“Declan?” he muses, his words sounding like silk and dark chocolate. “I thought it was Dicklan last night.”
“That was well deserved,” I admit primly. “But the fact of the matter is, I’m good at my job. I’ve been a good employee… better than any you’ve had in a long time. This job is important to me, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I need it.”
“Why do you need it?” he queries, and that stops me in my tracks. Because it’s frankly none of his business why. In fact, I’m fairly sure it’s against labor laws for him to ask me such things.
Granted, I’m sure it’s against some labor laws him fucking my brains out too, but I digress.
Another deep breath, and as I let it out, I straighten my spine. “I’m not letting you fire me. I don’t deserve it. But I will gladly continue my job, and I’ll give you a hundred and ten percent as always. And we can both agree to forget about last night, and we can both damn well forget a line was crossed. We’ll reset back to the way things were.”
I brace myself, waiting for him to perhaps pick me up and toss me bodily from his office. Instead, he asks, “And if I refuse to give you your job back?”
I lean toward him, baring my teeth. “I dare you to try it. You don’t want to know what a really pissed off Bailey Robbins looks like.”
Fire flames in Declan’s eyes, and it’s clear I’ve pissed him off. It’s punctuated with a deep rumble from his chest.
And yet, he remains stoically silent.
I take this opportunity to assume he’s consented, and I take one more step toward him, close enough I can shove the reports into his chest. “Those are the department notes from last night. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”
Pivoting quickly, I march to the door, my head held high, and a silent prayer on my lips that I don’t do a clumsy stumble or something equally stupid to lose my cool points right now. I wait for him to say something, to order me to leave the property and never return, but he doesn’t say a word.
I make it to the door, open it, and finally let out a sigh of relief as I cross the threshold.
My job is intact.
For now.
CHAPTER 11
Declan
“Miss Robbins,” I call out, my voice not overly loud but with enough force to carry out my office door and across to Bailey’s cubicle where she’s been diligently working all day without even taking time out for lunch.
Her body immediately pops up out of her chair, and she grabs her iPad with its Bluetooth pen. As she hustles into my office, I take a moment to admire her.
Physically, of course. That’s all I have at this moment… an appreciation of the way she rocks the mustard-yellow pantsuit. The crisscross swath of silk that wraps around her upper body does lovely things to her tits, and I realize I’m quite the pig to be thinking about her this way.
But fuck… can’t seem to stop thinking about her in that way. It’s why I knew us crossing the line would be a bad idea; because, deep down, I knew she would never fade into the background of my memories.
I knew it would never be a one and done like we agreed on.
Since she reclaimed her job—and let’s face it, I didn’t really have the heart to let her go—this past week has been tense. We are both being overly professional, our words crisp and efficient. Miss Robbins or Mr. Blackwood are the only names to leave our lips, although I do wonder if she still calls me Dicklan in her head.