I shrugged. I knew she was right. However, it didn’t appear professional when the skirt swayed as she buzzed around the office and my dick stood to salute it. She’d bent over to talk with Bob, and I’d almost called her to my office so I could press the privacy button and have my way with that ass.
Here I was, running the damn show, and I couldn’t think past my dick. I’d fired countless men for that very reason. I’d thought about firing a few more because they’d been doing the same damn thing I’d been: staring at her ass all day.
“That bow under your tits makes men think you want them to rip that dress open. I promise.”
“You’re deranged. You aren’t thinking straight. Probably because you work too much. Go home.”
“You go home and take the ride.”
Her nails dug into the shoulder strap of her bag. “Good night, Jett.”
“Good night, Victory.”
She walked out of the office toward the elevators, and I watched her the whole way. She didn’t turn back to look at me.
Not once.
The next morning,Bob and I combed through the Armanelli files one last time to check every possible angle.
We were fully prepared for the meeting. Bob assured me that he and the legal team had it handled. I knew the Armanellis better than him though. We had nothing handled. As he sat there reworking one last scenario with me, I looked out of my office to see Vick laughing at something Stevie said.
The two grew closer every day. I saw the way she relaxed in his presence, her shoulders loosening and her posture slouching. Her chin in her hand, she rested her elbow on the table, honey eyes gazing longingly at his lips as he spewed something dumb.
I couldn’t hear it, but I knew. Stevie wasn’t bright. He’d brought no equity to the business so far. The best thing that ever happened to him was his father leaving him the company and my team immediately seeing an opportunity. Stevie would have run his business into the ground. Now, his employees would have a chance to flourish. They wouldn’t suffer the boredom of a mediocre, dead-end job.
What Vick thought was so damn funny as she laughed at him, I couldn’t understand.
I pulled up my messages as Bob explained he would video conference with Antonio to talk about the club the Armanellis and I owned together. I could recite our agreements about that club in my sleep, but I nodded and let him carry on.
Me: You wore bright pink for our meeting today. With a bow, Pix. We just discussed this last night.
Victory: Pink calms people. Also, discussing my work attire is probably not approved in the HR handbook. Actually, I seem to recall it stating that I should reach out to HR if I had questions regarding my attire. I don’t, but I will if I do.
Me: I know you don’t have questions. I do. Like why you think pink calms people.
Victory: Look it up!
Me: That dress is inappropriate.
Victory: How?
Me: Well, you can see every curve of your ass in it for one. Stevie’s looked at it about 5 times today.
Victory: These are our company messages, Jett!
Me: I own the company, Pix.
Victory: Goodbye.
Me: See you at one.
Thankfully, she’d stopped smiling at Stevie. I’d burst her bubble in the next few hours, which shouldn’t have been a goal of mine. Victory Blakely was interesting, but she was downright mesmerizing without her facade of happiness.
Bob stopped mid-sentence. “Are you okay, Jett?”
“Yes, why?”
Bob’s bushy eyebrows formed a frown as he considered his next words. “You’re smiling, son.”