Page 1 of Beauty and the Bosshole

Chapter One

Reese

"Why the hell is the warehouse at full capacity? Get Robert on the phone."

"You don't have time to talk to Robert," Olivia Johnson says, placing a resume on top of the stack of paperwork on my desk. "Ava Matthews is here for her interview."

"What interview?" I growl, glaring at the cousin I've been trying to fire for the last three years. It never sticks. My mother hired her behind my back, but she's fucking useful. It pisses me off. "HR handles interviews."

"Yes, well, you should have thought of that before you fired Alexa." Olivia leans a hip against my desk, her hazel eyes full of familial judgment.

"She threw a coffee mug at my head, Olivia."

I'm still not sure exactly what I did to piss her off. I didn't care to find out after she threw my favorite fucking mug at me. She had to go. A man can only take so much at eight in the morning on a Monday.

Losing my favorite mug before I even had my damn coffee was the limit.

"Be that as it may," Olivia continues, "her two o'clock is here."

"Get someone else in HR to handle it," I growl. I don't have time for interviews today. Judging by the stack of things on my desk, I won't have time for dinner, either.

"This is Porter, not Vegas, Reese. Your HR Department consisted of her."

"Fuck." I pinch the bridge of my nose and then snatch up the resume, skimming it. It smells sweet. What the fuck? Did she spray something on it? "What position is she interviewing for?"

"Your assistant."

"She has no experience." She's twenty-three. She graduated a year ago. Her last job was working in marketing for a local salon. I doubt she knows anything about my company or what I need in an assistant.

As the CEO of the biggest sex toy company in the United States, the list of shit I have to do every day is endless. I need someone to make the job easier. Not someone who will make my life infinitely more difficult. Training someone who doesn't know how to approve photo proofs and send only the best through to me or compile a report or flag data will be a pain in the ass.

"Again, this is Porter, not Vegas," Olivia says. "There are like two thousand people here. No one has experience working fora multi-billion-dollar company. And no offense, but they aren't exactly lining up to work for you."

"Prudes," I mutter. Apparently, moving a sex toy company to small-town Texas has everyone up in arms. I knew it wouldn't be an easy transition, but my crazy mother decided she absolutely needed to live here. I still haven't figured out why. But I don't trust her as far as I can throw her. Left to her own devices, she'd take over hell.

The last thing I need is her causing problems in Texas while I'm in Vegas. It's hard to keep two eyes on someone from states away. So, here we are.

"Ha! That has nothing to do with it, Reese. They think you're Satan."

"Because they're prudes."

"Or," she says, drawing the word out, "maybe it's because you threatened to buy up every inch of land and business in this entire area of the state if the mayor and city council didn't approve your building plans?"

I shoot her a dark glower. "Just send in whoever the fuck I'm interviewing before I decide to fire someone else today."

"You can't fire someone you haven't even hired."

"I wasn't talking about her."

"You can't fire me either. I'll tell Aunt Nina." Olivia smirks before spinning toward the door. Her heels click on the porcelain tiles and her dark braid bounces against her back. "And you need to hire this girl. She's the only one in town willing to put up with your cranky ass."

"Just show her in."

The door whispers closed behind Olivia, leaving me in silence. Finally. My cousin is a pain in my ass. I need to fire her again. It's the only way I get any peace around here. Everyone else who works for me gives me a wide berth. I'm not an asshole. I just have a low tolerance for bullshit and don't beat around the bush.I like things a specific way. You can either meet my expectations, or you can't. Most people can't.

But Aurora—the company—is what it is today because of the standards I set. When people hear our name, they don't titter behind their hands as if what we do here is salacious gossip. They're fucking impressed. We brought luxury to the everyday woman and made self-pleasure a revolution.

We didn't do it with a piss-poor work ethic or standards anyone could meet. I want only the best working here. And I expect the best from every employee who walks through the doors. I don't care if this is Porter, Texas. If they want to work here, they'll meet my expectations.

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