Page 11 of Dangerous Pursuit

After several beats of silence, he finally answers—or so I thought. “I hope you realize this job is more than just sitting at a desk, answering phones, and checking items off a list. It’s whatever I deem necessary as my—personal—assistant. Meaning, you’re expected to perform any task given, whether work-related or not.”

Where is he going with this, and why do the implications excite me?

Oh my God, Mia, stop.

“For example, today, I’ll need you to pick up my dry cleaning and deliver it to my condo. A list of groceries is on the kitchen counter to shop for and put away. You’ll find a credit card in your desk’s top right-hand drawer, and I’ll email the drycleaner’s information along with my address and door code. Any questions?”

Relieved at not having to question my morals, I genuinely smile, relaxing the fake one I’d pasted on, and release the breath I was holding. That is not what I expected to hear after his opening speech.Phew.

“It sounds simple enough, but I use public transportation, which isn’t a problem, but I may not make it back in. Also, can I get your number to text in case I have any questions or need to substitute any items?”

He’s looking at me in a way I can’t decipher, like he’s irritated but smug at the same time. My responses never seem to satisfy him.

“Here.” He hands me his phone. “Text yourself.”

I do as instructed. “Okay, I’ll get going, then.” I smile and return the phone.

Grabbing my things, I head out while texting Walker the latest. He’s not impressed. But hey, at least it gets me out of the office and away from the bosshole. It isn’t so bad, other than I’m learning nothing. I was told “Jackson’s assistant”—my fault for assuming executive over personal. However, if I had to place a bet, this is probably another tactic to get me to quit. Well, too bad.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—I don’t make it back to the office. With public transportation, you aren’t always in control of your time. Today was one of those. It seemed I was always just missing the trolley or bus each time and waiting for the next one. Then, since this was the first time at Jackson’s, it took a while to find where everything went. If this becomes a regular thing, it’ll go faster next time. His place was clean, decorated nicely, and seemed comfortable. I was tempted to look around but left his dry cleaning on a doorknobin the foyer instead of searching for the bedroom, fearing he’d somehow turn it against me.

After messaging Jackson that I’ll see him tomorrow, I call Walker on the way home. He was already fired up, so I expected the outcome.

“So youarehis personal bitch. You’re really going to put up with this crap, Mia? Come on, you’re better than that.”

“I don’t see what the problem is. At least I don’t have to deal with him while I’m out. I’d call it a win-win. Neither of us wants to be around the other. I’m surprised he hasn’t demanded to replace me yet.” Though he’s probably tried.

I hear the sigh before he speaks. “Look, I know you’re trying to do the right thing, but there’s no harm in playing poker. You’re good at it, and you’re not your dad. Fuck this asshole and do that instead. Your mom would understand if you told her the truth.”Yeah, not happening.

“I’ve already made my decision to stick it out. I’m not letting the bosshole win. Besides, what’s six months in the rest of my life?” Is this my stubbornness talking or my rationality? I’m undecided but going with rationale for now.

“I’ve said my piece—it’s your call, but I’m not guaranteeing I won’t try again. So… did you at least get some good snooping in?” Of course Walker would ask me this.

“Hell no. He probably has cameras, and then he’d have a reason to fire me. Come on, Walker, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But you could’ve just peeked in his nightstand really quick and told me the size of his condoms.”

“You’re awful. I didn’t even step foot in his room. And who cares what size his condoms are? I won’t be anywhere near that thing.”

He chuckles. “Oh, Mia, we need to get you laid so you’re more fun.”

“You have plenty of fun for both of us. Bye, Walker.”

“Bye, babe.”

He might be right that this isn’t worth it, but now it’s become a challenge that I’m determined to beat.

Jackson

I’ve been happy in my job since taking over for my parents a year ago—until now. It’s been weeks since Cindy left, and while I can admit that her replacement doesn’t suck, she doesn’tsuck. Not that Cindy ever did, but I also never wanted her to.

All joking aside, Mia’s more capable than I’ll ever admit out loud. She’s kept her composure through all my rants, strange requests, and asshole behavior over the last month. I’ll give her props for the mask, but I can only imagine the things running through her mind while she smiles through gritted teeth.

Her work is impressive; she has a natural common sense that enables her to do anything asked with minimal direction and produce the answers I need without telling her how to find them. I stopped trying to get rid of her shortly after Cindy’s departure, and I’m thankful it’s working out so well. Unfortunately, my attraction hasn’t faded, and she’s still as off-limits as before, which is a problem today.

This week began no differently from the last. A typical Monday morning with tons of bullshit from the weekend to handle—which she’s doing like a pro, I might add. So, what’s the issue?Sheis, or rather, her goddamn body is. I should have made some bullshit dress code when I had the chance. Now, I’m forced to deal with all the filthy thoughts running through my mind because of her attire.

Heels. Need I say more? A tight-ass fucking skirt I’ve never seen before that barely reaches midthigh. Topping it off is the low-cut blouse, accentuating her perky tits that are pushed upto create a luscious mound of soft flesh begging for my tongue. Listen, I’m male. I get laid—a lot. I get who I want when I want, save for the one who can’t be touched, and it’s killing me. Not to mention, I’m fucking crazy for having these thoughts about a girl ten years my junior. Fuck this.

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