Taking a deep breath, Nate strode toward it. “Morning,” he said, licking his lips. God, Raffaele looked so good this morning. He wanted to climb into his lap, bury his fingers into his dark hair, and kiss him.
Raffaele lifted his gaze from the document he was holding and just looked at Nate for a long moment, a very strange expression in his black eyes.
Then he pushed the document across his desk.
Frowning, Nate walked over and picked it up.
He stared at it uncomprehendingly for a few seconds. “What…?”
“You’re transferred to the Game Design department,” Raffaele said. “The position of a junior level designer for the next Rangers game was open, and your CV indicates that you should be well suited for it.”
Nate stared at him, his mind unable to grasp what was happening. “You’re firing me?” he finally managed.
“Hardly. This is a promotion.” Raffaele’s face was completely unreadable. “Isn’t it what you always wanted? You always made it clear that you didn’t want to be my PA. This is your reward for putting up with the job you hated for nine months. You’re a level designer on your favorite game now, effective immediately. Congratulations.”
Effective immediately?
“But…” Nate couldn’t think. “But I haven’t found you another PA yet.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Raffaele said, shifting his gaze to his computer. “I already told HR to find me a new PA. Speaking of… They’re waiting for you to sign your new contract. You may go.”
Nate opened his mouth and then closed it when nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say. What to think. How to feel.
He should have been happy, right? This was his dream job, on his favorite franchise. This really was an incredible opportunity.
But.
Level designers worked on the second floor. They might as well be on another planet from the top floor where the executives’ offices were located. Only heads of the departments ever came here. It was glaringly obvious why he was being transferred there. Raffaele didn’t want to see him again.
Swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat, Nate curled his lips into a smile. “Thanks for the opportunity. Sir.”
Raffaele lifted his gaze.
Their eyes locked.
Something shifted in Raffaele’s—Ferrara’s expression, his mouth tightening. “It’s for the best,” he said in a clipped voice. “Good luck in your new job.”
“Thank you,” Nate said with a wide smile that made his cheeks ache. “Sir.”
He turned swiftly and walked out of the room.
He didn’t slam the door on his way out. He wanted to, but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He closed it, very carefully.
Chapter 26
The new PA, Martin Baddock, was perfect. He was excellent at everything he did. Raffaele’s shirts were always perfectly ironed, the tasks he gave were completed to perfection, and his schedule was better structured than it had ever been.
The sight of him still irritated Raffaele to an unhealthy degree.
He should have been used to the guy by now. Martin had been his PA for nearly two months now. He was excellent at his job. Raffaele had nothing to complain about—rationally. Irrationally, everything about Martin made him angry, even his obedient attitude and brown hair.
At first Raffaele had thought it was just sexual frustration. Except the moment his new PA had helpfully offered to call an escort service for him, Raffaele had nearly bitten off his head. He didn’t want a paid whore. Nate would have known better than to suggest that. Nate would have rolled his eyes and made some insolent remark about his horniness before getting to his knees and wrapping his lovely lips around his cock—
Raffaele pinched the bridge of his nose. He really needed to get laid. It had been two months since he’d had sex—something completely unheard of for him. His right hand wasn’t taking the edge off anymore, and the constant hum of sexual frustration under his skin was seriously interfering with his focus at work.
It was an easily fixable issue. Supposed to be.
Except he didn’t want just any hole around his cock. He’d already tried using one of his booty calls, and even thinking about that attempt made him grimace now. The woman, Clarisse, was gorgeous. Physically, his body had found her attractive, but the moment she climbed into his lap and attempted to kiss him, he had stopped her. He had no idea why. He just hadn’t wanted to fuck her or kiss her or touch her. He’d sent her away, feeling even more frustrated and irritated than he had been.
It made no sense. He’d never been all that selective. His high libido normally ensured that he didn’t even care much about his sex partners’ physical appearance: plump or skinny, blonde or brunette—it had made no difference to him. Sex was just sex. A warm body was a warm body.
Until now, apparently.
But then again, now he was doing so many things he’d never done before.