Page 113 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

I was also excited because I had a few things I wanted to do to get on his nerves. That brat pass was expired, and I was free to annoy him. Maybe if I was lucky, I’d get shoved against a wall or something.

When I arrived, there was a sticky note on the door:Finishing up a conference call. Door unlocked, come in.

I opened the door and cocked my head, listening. I could hear his voice faintly from down the hall, so I followed it. I found him in the room he’d made for me, sitting on the ground, legs spread, a tarp on the ground, and my leather harnesses piled in front of him. His huge hands were covered in leather polish and conditioner.

Several pairs of my expensive leather shoes sat beside him, polished and buffed clean. I felt my heart squeeze painfully in my chest at the sight. I knew he was crazy busy and worked all the time, but he’d somehow found the time to sit on the floor and polish my shoes.

He had a pair of white earbuds in his ears. He glanced up at me, held a dirty finger up near his mouth for me to be quiet, and then pointed at the ground in front of him.

Deciding to put the bratting on hold for now, since he was being so nice to me and taking care of my neglected leathers that Woodrow had abused, I sat down across from him and stayed quiet. He handed me a clean rag and one of my shoes, motioning for me to rub the polish off.

He spoke unexpectedly, and I almost dropped my shoe at the aggression in his voice. “I don’t really care what you have to do, Reggie. I’ve given you a task, a deadline, and a budget. Get it done or I’ll find someone else to do it.”

He rubbed at the harness he was holding a little harder, working on a problem spot. Pausing, he listened to the response on the other end.

“That’s not the attitude we use. The numbers reflect– interrupt me again and you can find another job,” he snapped. And oh, that voice was a little different. He sounded legitimately pissed off.So why the fuck did it turn me on?

He paused, as if waiting for the people on the other end of the line to shut up and listen.

He spoke quietly. “Our numbers reflect our service. One hundred percent of the time, when we go above and beyond and we serve the customer beyond what they expect, it pays back a minimum of three and a half times, and an average of fifteen. The restaurant is the lowest producer I have and is a waste of time in its current state, and half of that is related to the poor staff you’ve hired. Shut it down and give me two months of interviews starting next Friday. Current staff can reinterview at manager’s discretion, but I’ll be doing all these interviews myself. Every single one of the new employees is going through Ritz-Carlton service training, and my personal training program. We’ll increase the base pay by twenty percent, re-brand the restaurant with a new name, and do a soft opening with a TV feature. If we do it right, we can make up the last four months of profit loss in a week.”

He held up the harness he was polishing, rotated it to find the top, and held it in the air in front of me as if imagining what it would look like on me. I grinned, feeling my cheeks flush just a little, and reached up to the hem of my shirt, lifting it up slightly.Maybe I’d just relieve some of that tension in his face by giving him something a little more interesting to focus on.

He dropped the harness and took my wrist, scolding me with his expression. I pouted and stuck out my lip. As hot as it was to watch him yell at his employees, I wanted his attention on me and my boobs, which he had yet to pay any respect to.

“Now. I have a personal appointment I need to attend to. Are there any other legitimately important concerns that need to be addressed?”

He hadn’t let go of my wrist, or broken eye contact. At my pout, his eyes narrowed. “Ken...” he said, rolling his eyes subtly. “I don’t care how much money it costs to train people. As far as the rebranding, call Mister Isaka. He’ll have some fresh ideas. Now if you all will excuse me... I have a date.” A smile pulled at his lips and he ended the call.

He was still holding my wrist, staring at me with those dark intense eyes. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked softly.

“You wanted to see the harness on me,” I shrugged.

“It’s still covered in polish, silly girl.”

“I don’t mind getting dirty.” I flashed him a cheeky smile.

He squeezed my wrist a little harder, then released it. His voice was a low growl as he said, “Keep your clothes on until I say otherwise.”

I shrugged his warning off. “If that’s what you want.”

I knew it wasn’t at all what he wanted. But mister straight-laced rule-following Domly mcDom Face over here was determined to keep us on the straight and narrow path right up to high protocol.

That wasn’t going to last long.

“Are you planning on being a little asshole today?”

“Obviously. Your twenty-four hours is up.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, and that clever look in his eyes intensified. The jerk withdrewdrew the brat pass from his pocket. He’d crossed out the “24” and replaced it with “19.”

“What’s this about?”

“Your fine print does not specify one day, or twenty-four consecutive hours. It simply says twenty-four hours. I have nineteen left, Alice. You’re going to be good for me today.”

Son of a bitch. I glared at the coupon, then at him, then back at the pass.

No, this is my game, I can veto this.

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