Page 21 of Boss of Me
She looks only mildly pacified.
“You’re just as hard to please as I am. If you hired Miss Somerset on the spot, she must have really knocked your socks off. Naturally, I’m intrigued.” I point to a folder on the desk. “Is that her file?”
“Yes. I need to call her references?—”
“I’ll do it.”
Mrs. Calder looks scandalized. “Don’t be ridiculous. You have far more important matters?—”
“Good thing I know how to multitask.” I hold out my hand for the folder.
She hesitates, her mouth opening as if ready to argue further before she reconsiders and reluctantly passes me the file. “I’ll order the background check?—”
“Please do.” Leaning across the desk, I kiss her forehead and wink at her. “I’ll bring you back a souvenir from Hong Kong.”
“You have to get there first.” She shoos me away like a stray cat, her East Texas accent creeping into her voice as she clucks, “G’on now.”
I laugh, tucking the folder under my arm and striding out the door. When I get outside, my driver is waiting patiently by the car.
I’ve barely climbed into the backseat before I’m opening the folder and scanning the contents of Marlowe’s resume. I absorb every detail like a starving man, and I’m still not sated.
I want to know everything there is to know about her. The kind of details I won’t find on a one-page resume or job application.
I snap the folder shut and stare out the window, thrumming with impatience and anticipation.
I’ve been thinking about Marlowe nonstop since the night we met. Every facet of her is burned into my memory.
The way she smiled.
The sound of her voice and the music of her laugh.
The scent of her skin and the taste of her mouth. God, did she have a fuckable mouth. Those lips and that tongue were enough to turn a man into a crazed addict.
For as long as I live, I’ll never forget the feel of her tight little pussy melting around my fingers like sun-warmed honey. After she left me standing on the curb, I couldn’t resist bringing my fingers to my mouth to taste her delicious lingering essence.
At thirty years old, I’m not some inexperienced goober trying to get his dick wet for the first time. I’ve been with plenty of women, way too damn many to name. None of them—I repeat,noneof them—have ever affected me the way Marlowe did.
I thought I’d never see her again. I was unhappily resigned to that very real possibility. And then suddenly there she was, practically delivered to my doorstep like a rare, beautiful gift.
A gift with sharp claws, I muse with a silent chuckle.
She hates my guts and wants nothing to do with me.
I can’t blame her. But she’s mistaken if she thinks I’m giving up so easily.
As CEO of a Fortune 500 company, I’ve earned a reputation for being a master negotiator, ruthless when I have to be. I don’t like taking no for an answer, and I seldom do.
I want Marlowe in my life, in any capacity I can have her.
One way or another, I always get what I want.
Chapter Seven
marlowe
“Ican’t believe we’re not cubbyneighbors anymore,” Quinn laments that evening when she drops off my things. I wasn’t at the job long enough to accumulate much, so the box is practically empty. Like my checking account.
“Thanks for bringing my stuff.” I set the box down beside the secondhand couch I bought at a thrift shop. “Want a beer?”
