“I don’t pick sides, Mr. Crone,” he finally says without a single muscle moving on his face. “I pick jobs.”
“And it got a little complicated, didn’t it?” I don’t smile now, tension burning the screen as both of us keep silent for some time. “I am simply offering you another one. I’d very much like you to consider it.”
I raise my eyes to look at Kat outside my office, making sure Mr. Ortiz understands the importance of his decision.
Truth is, this man’s background is more impressive than any guy in my security. He would be an asset to my team.
We schedule another call for tomorrow. I need more info on this guy. Kat might be too young and careless, but her father is a professional, and I need more leverage.
When I finally walk out of the office and toward her desk, she tears her eyes off the files and leans back in her seat, arms crossed at her chest, which gives away her tension but also pushes her full breasts up, creating a deeper cleavage. She doesn’t wear makeup, but her scorching eyes framed with long black lashes are mesmerizing.
“What did you have to say to my father?”
“We talked about work.”
“Well?” escapes her pretty lips, and I gloat at the fact that I’m slowly wrapping her family around my finger. Hopefully, her pretty lips soon will be wrapped around something else.
I drop my eyes to the files on her desk. “I should be askingyouthat. I hope your report tomorrow at lunch is more impressive than today.”
Anger flashes in her eyes, her lips parting to say something. But she changes her mind. “At lunch? Is that gonna be a regular thing?”
I wonder if that feistiness is the same in bed. Is she wild? Does she like it rough? Quick? Hard? Kinky?
“Reports? Yes. Lunches? We’ll see. I’m taking a personal interest in your work.”
“Uh-huh. Taking me under your wing?”
Her every word sounds like an invitation to her bed. Maybe, it’s wishful thinking. But a particularly dirty scenario goes through my mind.
“I have a better word than ‘wing’ in mind. See you tomorrow.”
I leave before I get a full hard-on.
12
ARCHER
I spendseveral days trying to catch up on work. It keeps my mind off booze, at least until evening.
Most importantly, it helps not to think about Kat. Her working right outside my office was my idea, and I start thinking it wasn’t a smart one. Considering I’ve been sex-deprived lately.
I jerk off every night, mostly thinking about her. That’s an achievement—I’m back on track—since the boozing in the last month slowed down my appetite for many things, including sex.
Since Kat started working for me, we pretend like our little ride during the escort party two weeks ago didn’t happen. To be exact, the wild thing was riding my hand, and I was left with blue balls afterward.
For now, we keep it civil. Though I can tell she would be down for much more.
She’s gotten new clothes. Thanked me for that. I could’ve gotten her a couture collection if she asked and was willing to work for it. Though I have a feeling she is not the type to ask for things.
Kat dresses simply. Tight tanks that beautifully outline her torso and tits. Baggy cargo pants, her favorite, that hide her ass and beautiful legs. Laced tractor boots. She looks like she is ready for combat but would fit at a party if needed.
Her lush dark wavy hair is always braided halfway through her scalp, then either cascades lovely down her back, or is high on her head in a ponytail, or is tied in a bow tie at the back.
No makeup. She looks gorgeous without it—her thick black lashes fanning over her dark eyes. Her full lips are to die for, and I’m not talking about kissing. Or that too.
It’s afternoon, and I get to my villa to grab a quick lunch, then continue to my villa office. The Center is a senses-overload after working from home for weeks. The office in my villa is a perfect fortress of solitude.
But I’m restless. The only problem with being at home is an urge to drink. I do a little doze of LSD that will help focus on the chemical charts from the lab I need to go through.