Page 2 of Tamed

I was not going into full-on fantasy mode right here in his office, with him staring at me. That was for later, in the privacy of my own bedroom for God’s sake.

Anyway, I didn’t know why he was being such an asshole. He wasn’t normally. The Caleb I’d known growing up had been kind and understanding, always ready to listen and provide support. A man who’d once been like an uncle to me and who’d used to take my side whenever Dad was being his usual over-protective dad self.

Yet as a boss he was a demanding, driven perfectionist, who did not allow any kind of mistakes. Which would have been fine if he’d also been fair. But he wasn’t fair. It felt as if he’d singled me out for special attention and not the good kind.

Perhaps it was because he and Dad had given me the job here and he didn’t want to show me special favors. Whatever, it was annoying and so much for nepotism.

“It was two minutes, Caleb.” I tried to keep my voice neutral. “Not two hours.”

He merely raised one black brow. “What did I say about excuses?”

I clenched my jaw hard against the ‘fuck you’ that threatened to spring out. Arguing with him was useless and anyway, I didn’t want to argue with him. Not a good look to argue with the boss when he’d only given me this job as a favor to Dad.

I’d wondered off and on if he was being an asshole to test me because I hadn’t earned my position here like everyone else. I’d even wondered if he hadn’t wanted to give me the job and was trying to get rid of me, though that was unlikely.

He wasn’t a man who’d ever had a problem saying exactly what he thought or doing exactly what he wanted, and if he hadn’t wanted me on staff, he’d have simply said no to Dad.

No, it was probably a test. In which case there was no way I was going to fail it.

I needed this job. It was my chance to prove that while I might speak my mind more than was appropriate – my bullshit tolerance threshold was low – and could be difficult at times, I was trying to be better.

Dad had given me a talking to the previous week about how my lack of personal self-control was a concern. He told me he’d gotten me a job with Caleb and that this was my chance to prove I could be the daughter he wanted to take over Fox Tech, because if I couldn’t, he was going to have to rethink his choice of successor.

It was sobering and it made me feel ashamed of myself.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth.

“If you don’t want this job, Isabel, you only have to say.” Caleb leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the arms, his long-fingered hands loosely linked. Today, he was wearing an impeccably tailored suit in dark blue wool and a crisp white shirt. The jacket was slung over the back of the chair, and he had the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone, no tie. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to expose muscular forearms. The lines of one of his intricate blackwork tattoos licked down the olive skin of his left arm, nearly to the heavy platinum band of his Philippe Patek watch.

God, there was something about a big watch on a man’s strong wrist. It made my mouth go dry and unfortunately it was dry now.

I needed to get over myself. I was twenty-three, not sixteen, and he’d watched me grow up. I should not be getting all hot and bothered over his stupid watch.

“I do want the job,” I said woodenly.

He frowned. “You’ll have to be more convincing than that, Isabel. I have a hundred other people all desperate to take it if you don’t.”

“Yes.” I tried to keep a grip on my patience. “I do want the job.”

His rough features betrayed nothing, his black eyes impenetrable. “Then you’ll be on time tomorrow, won’t you?”

“Caleb, I—”

“Won’t you?”

Asshole. Asshole. Asshole.

“Yes,” I forced out. “I’ll be on time tomorrow.”

“Because that’s what you’re wasting. Time.Mytime. Mine and my company’s. And I do hate a time waster, Isabel.”

He always called me Isabel, even back when I was little. When everyone else called me Izzy, I was Isabel to him. I’d always liked that. It used to make me feel grown-up. Now though, it had the opposite effect and I felt about two inches tall.

I knew I should keep a grip on my temper but living with an over-protective control freak in the form of my father, I’d developed a healthy dislike of being told what to do. I absolutely hated it now.

“Then why did you waste ten minutes of your precious time chewing me out for the sake of two minutes?” I snapped.

Of course, as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted it.

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