Page 21 of His Temptation
“He may be the richest, handsomest man in the city, but he’s also probably the most insufferable,” I tell them. “I don’t think he has been told no once in his life.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Joey laughs. “I know he comes from money. That’s how all those men born with silver spoons in their mouths are. They haven’t been told the wordnosince the day they were born.”
“What is it like, working for him?” Morgan leans her chin on her palm. “Is he really as horrible as the rumors say? We generally don’t even try to get to know his assistants because they never last long. You must be doing something right.”
Once again, my first instinct is to defend him. It’s like not only do I not hate the guy, but I also like him. Which just can’t be true.
“In the beginning, it was really hard. I think he was so used to not trusting his assistants’ motives that he just projected that onme. We’ve had some misunderstandings and some curt words with each other, but it’s gotten better.”
That feels true enough without going into too much detail. Based on the way Mr. Monroe acted toward my résumé, I would feel mortified to tell them some of the reasons for our run-ins with each other. I’m guessing they all have some fancy college degrees and amazing life experiences to go with it.
My phone chimes in my pocket, and I see it’s him.
Mr. Monroe: I’ll take the chicken salad sandwich with chips and an iced tea. May I remind you that I haven’t eaten yet?
I roll my eyes. What a big baby. It’s twelve forty. Most of the time, he doesn’t eat lunch until after one.
Me: I will have your lunch to you in the next fifteen minutes. May I point out that you will be eating earlier today than most days? I think you’re just pouting because I actually took a lunch today.
“Well, I would love to stay and chat, but I need to go up to the takeout counter and get my boss his lunch before he fires me. Thanks so much for inviting me. I had a great time,” I tell them as I place enough money for my lunch and tip on the table.
Paris waves her hand in the air. “Put that cash away, girl. I already told Roy we were taking you out on the company’s dime.”
My eyes shoot open in surprise. “You can do that?”
“Of course. This was a business lunch of colleagues getting to know one another,” she says, then winks at me.
She must have a much closer relationship with Roy than I do with Mr. Monroe. Just the fact that they all seem to be on a first-name basis with their bosses annoys me.
After I use my company card for Mr. Monroe’s lunch, I place it on his desk and walk away without a word. I don’t want to hear another snooty comment about me taking a lunch. I don’t want him to ask me to work late. I just want to be left alone.
Once at my desk, I place my AirPods in my ears and get to work. I’ve come to enjoy these moments where I can block out the world, listen to music or a podcast, and focus on some work. I get to enjoy what I’m listening to while my brain has something to distract itself instead of criticizing me.
Before I realize it, it’s after five, and people are starting to shuffle by me as they head for the elevator. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be able to leave the second it hits five. What a wonderful thing to have that kind of schedule. I wonder if I get paid more than them to be so available for Mr. Monroe.
I hear a frustrated groan coming from his office before he sighs and calls my name. “Kylie!”
I push off my desk and stand up. “Yes, Mr. Monroe?”
I walk into his office and find him standing in front of the wall-length mirror, struggling with his black bow tie. He’s dressed to the nines in a black tuxedo. It dawns on me he has some charity event tonight. I sent over the information to his date.
Did I look her name up on the internet? Maybe. Is she beautiful in the most sophisticated way? Yes. Am I jealous? Absolutely not.
“I can’t tie this damn tie for some reason,” he growls into the mirror.
His beauty almost makes me lose my breath. Okay, I did just suck in, struggling to breathe. I actually lost my breath. How can someone so good-looking be so … rude?
His dark hair is styled to perfection. His hazel eyes pop out so vividly against the black and white. And his lips … oh, those lips. They are what writers describe in their books. Slightly fuller on the bottom, as though crafted for sinful whispers and stolen kisses.
“You wouldn’t happen to know how to tie a bow tie?” he asks. Before I can answer, he drops his arms in defeat. “Who am I kidding? When in your life would you have been in a situation to tie a man’s bow tie?”
My jaw hits the floor. This man is unbelievable. Does he have no sense of sensitivity? It’s like he walks around this world with no concern for how his words affect others around him. I’d rather shove it in his face that he’s wrong than turn around.
I walk over to him and grab him by the arm and force him to face me. I reach up and grab both ends of the bow tie. As I adjust the strap under his collar, my fingers graze his neck. The air in the room becomes thick. My pulse quickens as I feel the warmth of his skin against mine.
I try to focus on the process. Making sure one end is longer than the other before I loop one side over the other. I get the scent of his woodsy, clean cologne. My eyes almost roll back in my head at the effect it has on my body.
“Where did you learn to do this?” he murmurs, his deep voice low and intimate.
