FUCK!
What the hell is happening to me?
I've never had a single improper thought about anyone working for me or with me, so what is it about this girl that's making me act out of character?
Nic's niece lifts her phone up for me to see, and this time I'm able to read what she's typed on the search bar.
DOES SLATER STANFORD HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?
My gaze flicks back to her in disapproval, but all she does is flash an impish smile in return.
"I was curious, sorry."
"You're here as an intern, Ms. Duke," I say icily. "Do I really have to explain why your interest in such matters is inappropriate?"
"But I was really just curious," she protests. "And I wanted to see if you had the same taste in women as Uncle Nic's. He prefers the ones who's really curvy—-"
"Ms. Duke!"
"And I was worried at first that you'd be the same, but from what I can see here—-"
I'm starting to get a fucking headache. I have never met anyone this unaware - or this uninterested - in observing the usual norms.
"I'm relieved to see that you're the opposite."
Nic's niece looks at me expectantly, but I have no fucking idea what she thinks I should say. What I do know for sure, though, is what I should say as her employer, and that is—-
"Do you know how many rules of my company you've already violated in the past five minutes?"
Words like that should've knocked some sense - and even shame, hopefully - into her, but all Ms. Duke does is slowly cross her legs—-
FUCK!
I lose my train of thought the moment I see what I'm not supposed to see.
The skirt she's wearing is formal enough, but its length leaves a lot to be desired, literally and figuratively.
Her skirt is too damn short, with the way it reveals the most improperly intimate things about its owner.
I may be a friend of her uncle's, but I'm also her goddamn boss, and so she should've known better than to wear something so goddamn inappropriate.
A boss isn't supposed to know that his employee has a penchant for panties made of sheer black lace...or that she also happens to be wearing the sexiest pair of garter belts attached to her fucking panty hose.
I gesture abruptly to her outfit. "If you start working here, you'll need to wear our company uniform."
"But I'm just an intern," she protests.
"Doesn't matter," I snap.
"What if your uniform doesn't fit me? I mean..." She suddenly bites her lip, and the worried look on her face makes me want to swear anew.
I feel like I'm being baited, but in the end, I still hear myself say, "If you've got a problem..."
She nods vehemently. "I do."
"What is it then?" I ask reluctantly.
She leans forward and takes a deep breath, and the rise of her chest is like a fucking magnet, with the way it immediately draws my attention.
"Some people say..."
My hand clenches and unclenches over the desk, but I can't seem to take my eyes off the barely visible imprint of her bra.
Her tits are perfect, dammit.
Some men like a woman's breasts to be big like fucking melons, but I want them just small enough—-
"My breasts—-"
"Miss Duke!"
"—-are too small," she ends.
My fist slams down on my desk at the end of my words, but she doesn't even flinch, and the urge to drag her to my lap grows.
She's so fucking impertinent, it's like she's begging to have her ass spanked so she can learn her lesson.
"Has no one ever taught you what you may or may not say to your boss?"
The last time I roared something out in anger like this, I had grown men literally breaking down in tears.
But this time, all it does is make my intern's strawberry-red lips curve into the sexiest little smile.
"Mm. Is that your way of saying my small breasts are exactly to your taste?"
I feel like I've just slammed my head pointlessly against a wall.
This conversation is clearly going nowhere, and while I'm tempted to tear her internship contract into pieces so I can have the pleasure of telling this brat to leave and never come back—-
Shit, shit, shit.
If I fire her on the spot, Nic will want to know what his niece had done wrong. My friend's one of the most detailed-oriented guys I've ever known, and he won't be satisfied if I simply tell him she's not suitable.
He's going to want to know exactly why I'm unable to handle an eighteen-year-old kid, and and what do I fucking say then?
Do I tell him that if I let his niece continue working for me, it might only be a matter of time before I check for myself if her tits are really too small?
"Sir?"
The mischief in her tone is more evident than ever, but no fucking way am I going to waste another minute playing games with this brat.