Page 45 of Hell Hath No Fury
UNREASONABLE
AN OFFICE ROMANCE
ANNE MERCIER
CHAPTER ONE
Audra
The CEO's assistant sees me coming and cringes. She knows this isn't going to be pretty. It never is when I need to talk to Derrick Pierce, CEO of DP Enterprises. Yes, DP Enter-Prizes. I cringe at the purposeful sexual innuendo. Good thing for me, so does Mr. Pierce. He came up with the name when he was young, foolish, and trying to prove a point to the world. I think the point he was trying to prove was he's an idiot, but he said it was his way of showing he's in control. Having people say DP Enterprises with a straight face made him laugh and made his father scowl in disapproval even more than usual.
"Mr. Pierce, Ms. Sullivan from HR is here to see you."
"Hell," he mutters. "I just saw her," pause, "two hours ago. What could I have possibly done in those two hours?"
His assistant looks over at me and I smirk. She doesn't reply.
"Send her in," he finally commands.
When she hangs up the phone, Jamie, his assistant, looks over and whispers. "What'd he do?"
I lift a brow. "What didn't he do is a better question."
"That's the truth. This week alone I've had four women calling for him nonstop and each one of them seething."
"Maybe their encounters with Mr. CEO were less than satisfying," I quip.
Jamie snickers. "It's a funny scenario but one I doubt is true."
I shrug.
"If you're done filling my assistant full of lies and disparaging comments about her boss—and your boss, you might step into my office and tell me what this little visit is all about," says the deep gravelly voice of Derrick Pierce from behind me.
Jamie's cheeks pink up. Not mine. They used to. But now I know I can hold my own.
"Sir," I reply with sarcasm, spinning around to meet his gaze. It's like his last name—piercing. It's also a ridiculously beautiful color of blue that reminds me of the Mediterranean and fringed with long dark lashes that match his neatly trimmed hair. Even with the frown lines, he's sexy, and that right there is the problem. It'd be easier to hate him if I didn't find him fuckable.
"Sir?" he questions with the lift of a brow.
I shrug and follow him into his office. His suit jacket is hanging on the back of his chair so I've got an unhindered view of his tight ass. I want to squeeze it. I want to bite it. Wow. I need to get a grip. He's not making it easy, though. He sits in his chair and unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, rolling up the sleeves, revealing firm, muscular, tattooed forearms.
Underneath his business suits lies a body that's a work of and also a canvas of art. Muscles galore and ink that would keep me enthralled for days. Oh my. He's just too delicious for words. That is, until he opens his mouth.
"What do you want this time, Ms. Sullivan?"
"I'm sensing some annoyance in your tone, Sir."
"Again, with that. There's only one place I want you to call me sir, and if I tell you where, you'll sue me for sexual harassment," he replies with a smirk. It's devilish and it sends shivers of excitement down my spine. But he doesn't need to know that.
I give him a droll stare. "I'm sure I can guess." I let out a sigh. "I'm here to talk about Mrs. Fielding's retirement."
"Shit. I forgot, didn't I?"
"Mhmm." I set the folder on his desk, open it, hand him a pen, and point to where he needs to sign. "Just sign here." He does. "And here." Sign and page flip. "And here."
"That's it?" he asks.
"Mhmm. That's it. Less than a minute of your time you couldn't make for the woman who's been here since you opened."
