Page 45 of Vivacity
‘Well, if you’re finished “stretching”, get showered and come upstairs. I need you on the Montague stuff.Now.’ Without waiting for an answer, he turns and flounces out of the gym as I lie here and fume. The Montague transaction may be front and centre this week, but I’d bet my life savings that thislittle emergency comprises nothing more urgent than my boss’ mystifying need to throw his weight around.
Caio squats back down next to me. ‘Do you need to go?’
‘Jesus, no. Do the other leg.’
He kneels like the obedient and rational human being that he is and lifts my other leg. ‘Is he always that… grumpy?’
‘Yes.’
‘And hot?’
I sigh. ‘Also yes. Unfortunately, the two are directly correlated.’
‘Hmm.’ We both turn to see Ethan’s fine arse disappearing through the glass doors. ‘Tom trains him. He says he works out like a psycho.’
‘Nothing could surprise me less.’Especially because I have borne witness to the results of whatever demons spur him on in the gym.
‘I think he was jealous. Maybe he wants you. You should definitely fuck him.’
I laugh. Sadly, my need to uphold contractually enforced confidentiality is greater than my desire to gossip with Caio.
‘Not jealous. He just likes to remind me who’s boss at every possible opportunity.’ I don’t add what’s obvious to me:
Ethan is still suffering from a vulnerability hangover after those things he said and did on Tuesday, the way he allowed himself to need me.
And I’m the one who has to bear the brunt of it.
‘What the hellwas that down there?’ I ask as I stride back into his office, banging the door behind me. I’ve showered, fixed my makeup, and run some straighteners through my sweat-frizzedhair, vibrating with outrage the entire time. Damn Ethan and his ability to ruin my post-workout endorphin hit.
He stands up and shoves his hands in his pockets. ‘That guy was all over you. Have some self-respect.’
My mouth drops open. ‘Like I told you down there, he wasstretchingme. And it’s none of your business. Who the fuck do you think you are?’
‘Your boss. I don’t need gossip circulating that my EA is fucking everything that moves. When you behave like a slut in your place of work, you damage my reputation.’
I take a few steps closer, so we’re almost toe to toe, and will myself to remember that I’m far too high maintenance for prison food, because the chances of me strangling this man are going through the roof.
‘Oh no you didn’t. You didnotjust slut-shame me.’
His look of alarmed regret is truly excellent. ‘I wasn’t slut-shaming you. I was pointing out that, as my EA, you have a duty to behave in an appropriate way.’
‘There is nothing appropriate about the way I behave with you, and you know it,’ I hiss. ‘It wasn’t very appropriate when you got me naked “in my place of work” and came all over my tits yesterday, was it?’
His lips press together, and he grabs my jaw in a pincer grip between his thumb and forefinger. ‘That’s different, and you know it. We have a particular relationship, and I pay you a fuck-tonne of money for that privilege. So excuse me for not being thrilled when I see you giving away the goods for free in the office gym.’
I reach up and wrap my fingers around his wrist, my nails digging into his skin. Good. I hope it fucking hurts.
‘Firstly, he’s gay, dickhead. Not that it’s any of your business.’ He’s still gripping my jaw, so I can’t nod to make my point, but I raise my eyebrows. ‘Yeah. That’s right. That guy probably lovesdick even more than I do, which is saying something. So the only person whose reputation is at stake is you, because you’re the one jumping to conclusions and throwing public hissy fits.’
I take the opportunity of his clear shock to wrench myself out of his grasp and back away. ‘And let me make myself very clear. We do not have an exclusive relationship. I can flirt with whomever I want. I canfuckwhomever I want. So don’t for a second assume you have any jurisdiction over me when I’m not in this office. Do you understand?’
He visibly deflates. I’ve quite literally knocked the wind out of his sails, it seems. He points to the chair behind me. ‘Sit down. I want to talk to you about that.’
I glare at him to ensure he understands he’s not the boss of me, and I reluctantly sit. ‘What.’
He flops into the chair behind his desk and picks up a manila folder that’s sitting on his keyboard, lobbing it across the desk to me. ‘I want to renegotiate our terms.’
I frown and flick open the folder. It’s our Seraph contract. ‘How so?’
