Page 31 of Bourbon Wishes
Three little dots appear, then disappear, and then reappear again. All I get in response is the middle finger emoji, though. I'm not entirely sure if that means she's on her way or not, but I'm willing to give her a five-minute head start if she isn't.
It only takes her three to reach my office. She stomps in like a fiery little storm, her hands on her hips and murder in her eyes.
"Which of your cousins is in charge of HR?" she demands.
"Why?"
"I need to file a harassment complaint," she growls, shoving the door closed behind her. "My asshole boss won't stop threatening to do sexual things to me all over the property anytime he doesn't get his way."
My lips curve into a grin. Christ, she has no idea how badly I want to bend her over and fuck the attitude out of her when she's mouthing off. "I believe your asshole boss threatened to make you do sexual things to him."
"Same difference," she scoffs, crossing her arms to glower at me. "What do you want?"
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Burying your body if I'm lucky. Why?"
"We're going to karaoke with Lucy and Oliver."
"Uh…I do not recall agreeing to this."
"You're going, Constance."
"Maybe I don't want to go."
"Why the fuck not?"
She huffs at me. "You didn't even ask me if I wanted to go. You just informed me that I'm going. I'm not a dog who jumps on command, Bastian. I'm a whole person, with a whole life. I know that's probably a foreign concept to you since your entire life revolves around torturing me, but mine is full of things I enjoy, like drinking wine in bubble baths and watching junk TV."
She has a point, and her point is that I'm a presumptuous asshole. Honestly, it'd save us a lot of time if she'd just skip the rants and get right to the insults.
"Would you please come to karaoke tonight?" I ask.
"Will you be singing?"
"Does my answer change yours?"
She shrugs. "Depends on if you sound like Trystan."
"I won't be singing."
"Well, thank god for small favors." She beams at me. "I still don't want to go."
"Why the fuck not?"
"Maybe because you're my boss?" She throws her hands up, exasperated. "Honestly, Bastian, you'd think I wouldn't have to keep reminding you of that fact since you love lording it over me."
"I don't give a fuck if I'm your boss or not, Constance. You're going to karaoke."
"No, I'm not."
"Why the fuck not?" I ask again, my hands curled around the arms of my chair to keep myself from stomping across the room to drag her into my arms. If I get my hands on her, this will end with me nine deep and her moaning my name. As fun as that is, I want answers first.
She'll sleep in my bed every night. She'll let me fuck her over my desk—or hers—every day. But she does not want to be seen with me. I don't like it.
"Because we're not supposed to be dating!" she cries. "It's probably in the employee handbook. Thou shalt not fuck thy employees."
I pinch the bridge of my nose. "There is no handbook. And if there were, it wouldn't sound like it was etched in stone and involved a goddamn burning bush."
