Page 9 of His Temptation
I turn on my heel and start for the door.
“Miss Ricci, this coffee is warm,” his gruff voice says with contempt. “I don’t believe I ordered warm kopi luwak.”
Ugh, this man is such a snob with his coffee. He had all of these ridiculous requirements this morning with how he liked his coffee. I googled that kind of coffee, and it goes for four hundred dollars a pound. That’s insane!
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t realize it wasn’t exactly one hundred ninety-five degrees. I’ll try again.” I grab the coffee and meet his eyes with my own look of contempt. Two can play this game.
“I don’t pay you to be funny, Miss Ricci,” he replies in an efficient, clipped tone, like everything else about him.
“Of course not. My apologies.”
“You know,” he says before I can walk away, “kopi luwak is a delicacy. The Asian palm civet animal eats only the best coffee cherries. Their digestion doesn’t break down the coffee bean, so they then excrete it on the jungle floor. The beans are hand-picked off of the ground.”
I’m not sure my face can hide the disgust I feel as I try to understand why this coffee is so expensive. “You mean you’re drinking coffee beans that have been in an animal’s butt?”
He rolls his eyes like he can’t even fathom my inability to comprehend why that sounds appealing and goes back to focusing on his computer.
Before I walk away, I steal a glance at his forearms as he squeezes his fists. They are toned and have these amazing veins that become more prominent when he’s angry. He really is unnecessarily good-looking. No one has the right to look as good as him. Too bad it’s wasted on someone with his personality.
I ran to the restroom the last time when the coffee was brewing, which might have resulted in his coffee not being as scalding as him.
Note to self: bring the coffee directly to my boss so I don’t get his wrath from not meeting his desire for perfect temperature poop beans.
After I make a fresh pot, I place the new cup of coffee down and wait for him to take a sip.
He looks me up and down. “What are you doing?”
“I’m making sure your coffee is just right before I go back to my desk,” I say with the fakest smile I can muster.
I need this job, and I’m walking a fine line between my self-respect and providing the life my brother needs.
His dark eyes meet mine and remain fixed on me as he grabs the cup and brings it to his mouth. I can’t help but notice how his plump lips press against the cup while he takes a sip. They sure do seem soft and full and like they know their way around a woman's body.
“Better. I like to have a rundown of my day every morning. Go gather yourself. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
That’s all I get from him. If I had more confidence in my ability to run in these heels, I would be sprinting to my desk. But I know I’ll end up face on the ground and ass in the air if I attempt to move too quickly.
I settle for a brisk walk to go gather my laptop. I’m back in his office in record time, though my breathing is labored, and I’m sweating everywhere now. I need to start working out if that short walk winded me so much. I’ll put it on the list of never-ending chores that will likely never get done.
I take a seat in the chair across from his desk as he leans back with his coffee in hand.
“You have a meeting at nine with Mr. Jeffreys from Steel Inc. I have the conference room set up and the projector ready for his presentation. That should take you to lunch, where I will orderwhatever it is you are in the mood for today. At one, you have a meeting with the marketing department to go over their ideas to compete with East Coast Air’s new commercial campaign.”
He snarls at the mention of East Coast Air, his number one competitor. I didn’t even know people snarled in real life. I thought that just happened in books.
“You have a phone call at three to listen to accounting’s month-end numbers, then dinner tonight with the board.”
If he has actual work to do, I don’t see where he gets time in his schedule to get it done. And this seems to be a mild day for him compared to the rest of the days this week.
“Make sure the conference room has fresh coffee and food. Something impressive.”
I glance down at the time. It’s eight thirty. How am I supposed to get food and freshly brewed coffee in there in the next thirty minutes?
“Where would you like me to get this food from?” I close my laptop.
He looks at me like I just asked him what a fork was. “It’s New York City, Miss Ricci. There’s food everywhere. Use your judgment.”
My lips twitch with suppressed frustration. “Of course, Mr. Monroe. I’ll find something impressive in thirty minutes. No need for advanced notice.”
