Page 6 of My Dear Mr. Corporate

CHAPTER 3

Bryan

“Bry, don’t look now, but where are your shoes?”

I blinked at Tate and frowned at him, temporarily distracted by the sight of him leaning against his car in a casual fashion. Dressed in a sharp charcoal business suit, all I could think of was that my plan was backfiring and was about to blow up in my face. After a week and a half of living with him and sleeping in his bed, no-sex, I wanted sex. I was only torturing myself every morning I woke up to feel his hard-on poking me. Only one thing had stopped me yesterday from sliding beneath the sheets and sucking him into my mouth like I had done back in the mountains. Since I had made a big deal about us getting to know each other without the sex, I should at least try to live by the code. I didn’t want to look stupid and fickle before him.

“Umm, what do you mean where are my shoes?” I asked with a frown, his question finally getting through to me. “They are right here on my…feet.” I ended rather lamely because my shoes were not in fact on my feet. I stared shocked to find myself standing on the top step, dressed, messenger satchel on my shoulder, but only in my diamond-printed socks without any shoes. I had double-checked everything and had somehow forgotten my shoes in the process.

“Oh my God, I’m going to fail this interview!” I wailed because if I had forgotten my shoes, I couldn’t imagine what else had escaped me.

“You are not going to fail,” Tate remarked, then threw the house key at me. “Go grab your shoes and let’s get you to your interview on time.”

I grasped the key out of midair and rushed back inside the house. When I had been called three days ago to interview with a company as a Personal Assistant I had been ecstatic. Tate had been kind enough to help me prepare. I’d thought I was ready, but now this. Being interviewed by Tate the boss had been hot. Maybe it had been more of a distraction than if I’d prepared by myself.

I found my shoes in the master bedroom upstairs and dropped onto the bed to put them on. I encountered a hindrance in the right shoe and upended it onto the bed. I paused and stared at the credit card and set of keys that had fallen out. My name was inscribed on the credit card. Tate. How many times did I have to tell the stubborn man that I didn’t have a place to stay but I wasn’t exactly poverty-stricken yet? I had my savings to get by on for awhile.

Shoes firmly on my feet this time, I brought the keys and credit card with me. The set of keys I would keep as they would get me into the house later after I finished the interview. The credit card I would return to him.

He was already in the car and the engine running when I locked up again, ensuring that I enabled the alarm system. It had taken me awhile to get used to setting the alarm each time I left the house.

“I think you forgot something,” I told him as I slid into the car and claimed the passenger’s seat.

“Nope,” he replied and ignored me as he headed down the driveway.

“I’m talking this credit card I found in my shoe, Tate, you sneaky devil.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he quipped. “Is my name on it?”

“No, but—”

“Is your name on it?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then case closed. You’ve discovered the owner.”

I scowled at him. “Tate, I told you I don’t need your money.”

“I know you don’t.”

“Then why did you get me a credit card?” I grounded out. If he was using this as some kind of strategy for me not to be nervous anymore about the interview, it worked.

“Because I know you won’t ask me for money even if you need it,” he finally answered on a sigh. “You don’t have to worry about paying back the credit card company. It’s on my account anyway so I’ll get the bill, and I’ll pay for it.”

“You should have talked to me first before you slapped my name on a credit card, Tate.”

“Would you have allowed me to do it if I had spoken to you about it first?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you have your answer.” He glanced at me then. “It’s not a big deal, Bryan. Your interview. Focus on that. Use the credit card or don’t use the credit card. That’s up to you. I just like knowing you have it in the event you may need it. I don’t want you ever at the mercy of assholes like your ex.”

“So you have no expectations?” I asked him calmly even though I knew I would never use this card.

“Nope. Not one.”

“Not even for us to start having sex again?”

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