Page 80 of Pretty Evil

“Does he have a girlfriend?” Gemma says with curiosity, and I groan.

“Several if you believe the internet. I clicked on ‘images’ and there were dozens of glamorous women on his arm.”

Brittany sighs. “Lucky bitches. I bet he’s a bastard in the sack. All dominant and brooding. What I wouldn’t give for a night with him.”

“And now you get to spend every day with him, you lucky bitch.” Brittany says jealously and Gemma adds.

“I’m guessing he travels a lot. You will be required to accompany him.”

“Wow, get him drunk one night and you may be in with a chance.” Brittany laughs and I say in mock anger, “Hey, I’m not that bad.”

“True, you can hold your own in a room of freaking nerds but look at what you’re wearing.”

I glance down at my sweater dress that covers my neck and every curve of my body. My UGG boots are warm and cozy but show nothing of my legs and the thick hat and scarf I added for good measure cover the rest of me perfectly against the chill of winter outside.

“You’ve got to up your game, my lucky friend.”

Gemma says thoughtfully. “There’s a personal shopper in Bloomingdales my cousin can recommend. It’s a bit pricey though. Did they mention the salary?”

“Only more than I made all year in the pet store. I’m living the dream, ladies.”

I grin as they stare at me with pure envy and Gemma sighs. “I bet he fucks like a pro.”

“Yes. All positions considered and anything goes.” Brittany adds with a dreamy expression on her face.

“I bet he’s a dirty bastard.” I giggle. “He has that look about him. Polished and respectable in public, but an animal between the sheets.”

“Against the wall.” Gemma giggles.

“Over the desk.” Brittany grins.

“In the back seat of the car.” I smile softly.

“In a dark alley.” Brittany imagines out loud and then we stop because someone stands beside our table and as we look up, the blood drains from our faces as we stare into the glittering eyes of the man himself. Troy Remington.

He gazes at each one of us in turn and in my mortified trance, I can only register how immaculate he looks. He is wearing black jeans that hug his hips and a cream sweater under a black suede jacket. A Burberry scarf is wound around his neck and his brown leather belt looks new and expensive.

He stares at us with cool derision and says in a firm voice.

“For your information. Yes, I do fuck like a pro, and my preferred position is on top. Some may call me an animal between the sheets, but I prefer to dominate my women on top of them. I have been known to enjoy sex outdoors, but down a dark alley is seriously low on my preferred list of places. On a yacht, a private plane and on a beach in paradise are more my style.”

He stares at our horrified faces and smirks. “I have no current girlfriend, but I enjoy a crowded little black book and there is no shortage of women to call on should I feel the need to bend one over my desk and fuck them from behind. Contrary to your beliefs, I can’t boil coffee with one look, which is why my assistants do it for me.”

He stares at me with a hard expression, and I try desperately to disappear into my seat as he says firmly, “I travel a lot but don’t expect my companions to perform anything other than their contracted duties and, more than anything, I value their discretion.”

I cringe as he drops a business card on the table and snaps, “Report to Celeste Weaver at Saks on Monday morning at eight am. You will be fitted for suitable business attire because I have standards and my assistant must meet them all. They include not gossiping about me in crowded public places and to sign a non-disclosure agreement before they start.”

He glares at us all each in turn and I swear we age right before his eyes as a woman moves by his side and stares at us with a slight shake of her head, the pitying glance she throws our way concealing the slight hint of amusement attempting to break through.

“Shall we?” Troy nods to the woman who appears to have stepped from the cover of Vogue and as they head off, we watch them leave along with our power of speech.

TROY

Melissa chuckles beside me as we step out of the coffee shop and says in a low voice, “That went better than expected.”

“It did.” I smile as I consider how mortified my new assistant must be feeling now.

Melissa grins. “It was probably more than you bargained for when you decided to listen in for information.”

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