Page 3 of Forbidden Daddy
That was true. While everyone else seemed to scatter like roaches when Roman appeared, I’d always found his intensity more intriguing than terrifying. Maybe because I’d grown up with an Irish father who had a complicated relationship withauthority and violence. Roman’s darkness felt familiar, not frightening.
But interested in me? That seemed impossible. This job paid twice what I’d been making at my last company, with benefits so incredible they seemed designed to compensate for something. Like the fact that our accounting firm handled clients who paid in cash and never asked questions about where their money went after it passed through our books.
I needed this job. My student loans weren’t going to pay themselves, and my one-bedroom apartment cost more per month than some people made in half a year.
"What am I going to say to him?" I asked.
"The truth?"
"That I was drunk and horny and accidentally sent him a detailed description of my sexual fantasies?"
"Or," Jenny said, her eyes lighting up with mischief, "you could own it. Walk into his office like you meant to send it. Like you’re a confident woman who knows what she wants."
"I am not doing that."
"Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?"
"He could fire me. He could call the police. He could have me killed and thrown in the Hudson River."
"Okay, that last one is a little dramatic, even for Roman Creed. Probably."
"Probably?"
My phone buzzed. A calendar notification.
Meeting with Roman Creed – 10:00 AM.
Thirty-seven minutes.
"Look, Cassie. You can either go in there acting like a scared little girl who made a mistake, or you can go in there like the badass woman I know you are. Which version do you think he’d respect more?"
She was right, but that didn’t make the knot in my stomach any smaller. Roman Creed was a man who commanded respect through presence alone. He never raised his voice, never made threats, but everyone knew not to cross him. There were rumors about his family, about where he’d come from before he cleaned up and went legitimate. Rumors about why certain people who crossed him disappeared from the city entirely.
But in the five months I’d been working as Roman’s assistant, I’d learned to read him better than anyone else in the company. I knew when he was stressed by the way he rolled his shoulders. I knew when a deal was going badly by how he drummed his fingers on his desk. I knew he took his coffee black with two sugars and that he had a weakness for those expensive dark chocolate truffles from the boutique downtown.
I also knew that despite his reputation, he’d been nothing but professional with me. Demanding, yes. Intimidating, absolutely. But never inappropriate. Never crossing lines.
Until now, apparently.
"I need coffee," I said.
"You need courage."
"Coffee is courage."
Jenny laughed. "Fair enough. But Cassie? Whatever happens in there, remember that you’re not some random employee. You’re his assistant. You know his schedule, his preferences, his moods. You have value to him."
The thing was, part of me—a very small, very stupid part—was excited. For five months, I’d been harboring a completely inappropriate crush on my boss. For five months, I’d been fantasizing about what it would be like to have his hands on me, his mouth on me, his complete attention focused on nothing but me.
And now he knew what I wanted. Now there was no more pretending, no more wondering. Now there was just truth, messy and terrifying and completely out of my control.
"Fifteen minutes," I said, checking the time, nursing my now half-empty cup of coffee.
"You’ve got this. Just remember—confidence is sexy. Own your sexuality. And if all else fails, remind him that good assistants are hard to find."
I laughed despite my nerves. "Thanks, Jen."
"Anytime. Now go show Roman Creed what he’s been missing."
