Page 41 of Billion Dollar Dispute

“These are upcoming events. Please organize them,” I instruct, trying to maintain a professional attitude, despite my growing anger toward him.

Biting my tongue, I resist the urge to confront him. There's something about him that rubs me the wrong way. He scratches his skin nervously, and I decide to walk out leaving him with the task.

As I exit the room, Molly gives me a grateful smile, and mouthsthank you.

So it’s not just me who doesn’t like him.

Entering Jemima’s office again, I retake my chair, ready to tackle the next task. “Now what am I doing?”

“Old events,” she replies, sliding a stack of papers across the desk toward me.

“And you’re working on?”

“Finances.”

“Great. Where do you want me to work?”

I glance around the office space. The clutter leaves limited room for both of us to spread out and work.

“I have other offices from previous employees. I just haven’t cleared them out yet.”

She rises and gestures for me to follow.

Grabbing my chai and the piles of paper, I follow her. She gives me a guided tour, and I try but fail to concentrate on her words, as my attention drifts to the way her hips and ass sway in her pants.

But when we arrive back at her office, she brings my focus back because she wants an answer.

Which office will I be working out of? I point to the spare office beside hers.

“This one is perfect.”

She shakes her head. “Of course you’d choose the one next to me.”

“Driving you wild is my new hobby,” I tease, unable to resist the opportunity to play with her.

She shakes her head. “I hope you know it’s not in a good way.”

“How's Chad?”

She chews on her lip, deliberating her response before finally admitting with a sigh, “Still talking about you.”

“And you hate that.”

“So much,” she murmurs.

I chuckle at that. “Well, I better get to work, or the boss lady will have my head. We need to turn this business around, and there's no time like the present.”

She rolls her eyes in response. Turning away, she wanders back into her office, not giving me a chance to reply.

But I smirk, betting she drinks the chai I brought her.

Sucking in a breath, I prepare myself to get my hands dirty. I know she lacks the qualifications to handle the situation on her own, so I’m ready to apply my knowledge and skills. Offering strategic advice, streamlining operations, and finding ways to make the business more profitable to help.

A few hours later, a soft knock sounds at the door.

I peer up to find Jemima standing in the doorway, nibbling her lip.

“Hard at work, again?” she asks, her voice a little wobbly. Her gaze drops to my chest before she meets my eyes. She’s not looking at the papers in horizontal piles across the floor. She’s looking at my partially exposed chest. In the process of sorting the files, my tie was thrown onto the floor, the top buttons of my shirt were undone, and my shirt sleeves were pushed up. Inside, I’m smirking at her obvious admiration.

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