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“No,” he rumbles, his voice dripping in a menacing tone. “I’ve been waiting for you. It’s time we chat, little girl.”

3

Winston

The cameras lied.

Not about her actions—or inactions, I should say—but about her looks. I’d been too busy fuming this morning to take a closer look. Now, I’m getting my fill.

She’s young.

Really young.

Like I’m not even convinced she’s old enough to drive a car, much less work at a prestigious cleaning company. Her face is makeup free, but she’s somehow still naturally pretty. Dangerously pretty. The kind of pretty that gets men like me in trouble.

Because…I want to fuck her.

She’s barely said three sentences to me, and my dick aches to play with her. If she’s underage, I’m screwed, because I know I’m going to have her bouncing on my dick regardless.

“Name,” I growl, even though I know it already.

She fidgets, messing with the hem of her uniform skirt. It’s just short enough to be distracting, drawing the eye to her golden thighs, but not short enough to be satisfying. If she bends over, I won’t get a peek at what color panties she’s wearing.

“Ash Elliott.” She blows air up, knocking a loose, dark tendril of hair from her face.

“Take your bun out,” I grind out. “Now.”

Her sculpted brows pinch together in confusion. “What?”

“I didn’t stutter, child.”

She huffs and narrows her eyes at me. “I’m not a child.”

Thank fuck.

“Let me see your hair,” I demand. “Stop wasting my time.”

“Why?” she throws back. “I have to keep it back per the rules.”

“You’re supposed to clean per the rules too, but we both know you’re a little rule breaker.”

Her cheeks grow rosy, and she parts her plump, pink lips in shock. Yes. I will absolutely have those lips wrapped around my dick. Imagining her choking on my cock makes me uncomfortably hard in my slacks.

“Do it before you really piss me off, Miss Elliott.”

“I don’t understand—”

“But you will,” I interrupt. “Obey me.”

Her hazel eyes flare at my words. Then, like the pissy brat she clearly is, she reaches up and yanks at her hair tie. She scowls as she tugs it loose, sending her hair falling in bouncy brown waves over one shoulder. Her brow lifts in challenge as if to say, “What now, asshole?”

I’m so used to women who live to please me that I don’t understand why I’m aroused by this unruly thing. She should turn me off completely, as she’s nothing like what I typically go for.

“Come here,” I command, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Now.”

With enough attitude to make my palms twitch to pull her over my knee and spank the fire out of her, she storms right up to me. I get a whiff of her cherry scent, reminding me why she’s here in the first place. She left her candy wrappers littering my office.

“Get on your knees.” I tilt my head up to glare at her. “Where you belong.”

“Fuck you,” she sneers.

“I’m about to,” I threaten. “When I fire you and the entire damn cleaning company because of your incompetence.”

She gapes at me in horror. “What? Why would you fire everyone else because of me? I don’t understand.”

“Because I am a Constantine.”

“Elaborate, because that means nothing to me.”

At this, I arch a brow in disbelief. “You know who I am.”

“An asshole. Yep. Learned that five minutes ago.”

Interesting.

It’s unusual to not be known. Revered. Feared.

“An asshole who will ruin you in every way possible. I’m a tenacious asshole. When someone pisses me off, I go to great lengths to make them understand they fucked with the wrong man.”

“Why?” she demands. “What did I do wrong?”

“Taking wages for a job you didn’t do. That’s fraud, Miss Elliott.”

“I’ll leave—”

“No,” I snap. “You’re going to listen, or I’ll plow through your life, destroying everything before you even make it to the first floor.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I take my job very seriously.” I smirk at her, loving the flare of hatred in her hazel eyes.

“Job? So that’s your job? Terrorizing nice people?” She waves a hand toward my empty desk. “That explains the sparse office. All the nefarious work happens inside that fucked-up head of yours!”

I reach up, gripping her jaw in my punishing grip, and pull her to my face. Her sweet, cherry scent fills my nostrils and stays. I want to lick every part of her to see what parts taste as good as she smells. A whine of fear escapes her as her hands settle on my shoulders, keeping her from falling into my lap.

“I didn’t amass this fortune by being an idiot. I certainly don’t let little girls run my fucking show.” I relax my grip on her jaw, sliding my palm to her throat. Her pulse jumps against my thumb. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

Wait? I am?

“I have a job,” she mutters.


Tags: K. Webster Cinderella Billionaire Romance