“You’ve been through a lot,” Marin observes. I lift one shoulder, stabbing my fork back into my fish. “And yet you’ve accomplished so much, before and after the, um…”
“The incident,” I help her out.
“I knew that you were innocent,” Marin says softly, after a long, long quiet that’s less comfortable than before. So, she’s done her research on me has she.
Then Marin puts on her business voice as quickly and effortlessly as she might have zipped up her sexy-ass suit skirt and stepped into those red pumps I can’t stop peeking at underneath the table.
“I want to help you, William. You deserve this. And, I think you can really do some good here. We could. Imagine? You could inspire so many other writers to overcome whatever adversity they are facing. Whatever bullshit the world is giving them, stopping them and slowing them down, casting doubt into their spirits…” It’s Marin’s turn to finish her drink. “This might make me sound desperate but I need this job, William. I want this job.” But it isn’t desperation overtaking that beautiful angel face of hers, it’s pity. “I can help you—”
“Nice speech,” I growl out, irritated. She can be anything, say anything, show me anything but I can’t fucking stand pity.
Her neck flushes, violet heat spreading up to her cheekbones. Ah, hell. I hurt her feelings? Didn’t mean to.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I know you’re trying to help, I will go easy on you.”
“No you don’t have to.” Marin straightens up in her chair. “You can be hard on me.”
I feel my eyebrow quirk up in surprise. If she only knew how hard I could be…Christ almighty, how hard I am right now. I tuck my tongue into my cheek to keep the smirk off my face.
The rosy blush already staining her cheeks deepens. “What I mean is I am a professional, I can handle any criticism you have. We’re going to be working closely together for the next several weeks.”
“We are?”
“If you hire me.” She sits stoically in the tenable silence that trails closely behind every word of this particular conversation. “And, if I may be candid?”
“You may only be candid.”
Marin huffs out another one of those breathy, cute-as-fuck giggles. “We have a lot of work to do in that short time, William. We need to be able to communicate. Talk freely.”
“Hmmm. Is that right.” I set down my fork, steeple my hands, my elbows on the table like the fucking caveman I am as I lean in toward her, locking my gaze pointedly upon her cherub face that’s painted on as if she is older, professional. I see right through it. And yeah, ‘pretty’ was an understatement of epic proportions. I narrow my eyes even more, staring at her keenly. Partly to inspire that crimson hue that washes her skin. Partly so she knows I am dead-ass serious.
And not gonna lie, the fact she is so unmoved by my steady gaze is turning me the fuck on.
“Marin.” Just speaking her name out loud feels good, so good on my tongue, as it rolls on outta my mouth. My cock twitches in my pants. “Are you sure you want to work for me?”
Down, boy. I remind myself yet again to keep my head—and my gluttonous eyes—off of her epic proportions.
“Yes,” she breathes, the word softening to a simper. “I’m not afraid of you, William.”
“You’re hired,” I say, letting my full smirk show, then adding with a wink that makes her bite on her bottom lip, “sweetie.”