Page 16 of Twisted Truths

I shift my attention to him. “I’m not a tour guide.”

His jaw tics and his expression hardens. “True. But I’m sure you can handle it.” He gives me a look that I read as, “stop screwing around,” but I turn back to Ariana.

“Let’s go.” I don’t wait to see if she follows.

When I reach the hallway, her heels echo on the marble floor just behind me. Without a word, I lead her out of the west wing, Asher’s private area, through the common part of the estate, and over to the east wing where I reside. I swear I hear her gasp when we walk through the long hallway of stained glass from the common area into my wing, especially as we walk past the large wolf window. I feel the weight of her gaze on the wolf tattoo on my neck as if she’s piecing something together.

The first place I take her is my office, where someone has set up a desk for her. Swinging open the double doors, I motion for her to go in ahead of me. To my surprise, there’s no fear or trepidation in her eyes. She steps into the wood-paneled room, and the scent of coconuts and something floral washes past me, reminding me of a tropical beach.

My gaze dips down her body, and I take in the way her dress pants curve over her ass. I’m forced to stifle a groan because this woman has an ass made to be bare and on display.

“How old are you?” I ask, walking past her then turning to face her.

“Twenty-four.” She lifts her chin a bit as though daring me to say she’s too young to do the job or something.

So young. So innocent.

“Think you can handle me?” I arch an eyebrow and slide my hands in my pockets. I expect her to look uncomfortable at the double entendre, but she merely smirks.

“I’m sure I can.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” I step closer to her.

Again with the smirk. “I’ve dealt with bigger, badder people than you, Mr. Voss.”

A chuckle leaves my lips of its own accord. “I’m not your typical lawyer in a three-piece suit, Miss Clarke.”

She gives me a patronizing smile. “I wasn’t talking about lawyers in suits.”

Stepping around me, she takes in the room with its built-in bookcases and wood paneling, sitting area set off to the side, and my desk, kitty-corner to her own.

This woman is intriguing, I’ll give her that. But she still needs to go.

I show her around the office and tell her a little bit about how a typical day goes, then I give her the ground rules. “You’re to be on time to work every day, and I expect you to be by my side and anticipate my every need throughout the workday. If I travel, you’ll be expected to travel with me. Your work must be done correctly. There’s no room for mistakes. We’re not talking about a little mom-and-pop shop here. Voss Enterprises deals with billions of dollars in assets, hundreds of companies, and tens of thousands of employees. What we do affects each of those things, so like I said—zero room for error. Once our workday is done, I don’t want to see you again until the next day. And the most important thing to remember is that you work for me, not my brothers.”

She nods. “Got it. What time do you want me here tomorrow morning?”

“Six sharp. My day starts early.”

She merely nods, and inwardly I chuckle because she’ll be sitting here for a long while before I show up.

“I’ll show you to your room now.” I walk past her without waiting for her and continue down the hallway.

I’ve put her on the same side of the hallway as me, but on the very far end.

“This will be your room. You should have everything you need, but if you find you don’t, you can use the bedside phone and track down Marcel. He can arrange to get you whatever you need. The en suite is here.” I step over to the open door and motion inside.

Ariana steps into the bathroom door frame and looks inside, not saying a word. Her closeness seems to register with my body, and my heart picks up speed.

Swallowing, I turn away from her and walk into the large closet. When I step inside, I see that Marcel has already had her things delivered to her room and unpacked. Clothes hang in the closet, and shoes have been placed on the shoe rack.

“This is your closet. I’m not sure what kind of clothing you brought, but I expect professional dress at all times when you’re working. Especially when we travel. You’re representing Voss Enterprises and therefore me, so you should be impeccably dressed.”

Her gaze runs over my custom suit, one of the plethora I have direct from Savile Row in London.

In turn, my gaze coasts over her dress pants and flowing white tank made from cheap material. “If you can’t afford the proper attire, let me know, and I’ll make arrangements.”

Her cheeks pinken a bit at my not-so-subtle dig. “I will, thank you.”

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