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God help you, Spencer, I thought with a sharp inhale. Jesus, could this be any more of a Monday? “Bring in dark Captain America, and I’ll let you know if he’s single when I’m done with him,” I said dryly.
Troy stepped out, and within seconds a tall, extremely hot snack of a man entered my office. Spencer grinned at me, and his look was cocky enough for me to want to pull off my shoe and throw it at him. But, unfortunately for me, that would be a waste of a good Louboutin.
“Hi, darling,” the rich, deep voice with a hint of an Oxbridge accent said, prompting my eyebrow to arch.
“What did I say about ridiculous pet names?” I questioned without a smile.
“They turned you off,” he answered, sitting in the chair across from my desk. He propped an ankle up on his knee, fully relaxed and ready for whatever the bastard knew my response would be to him showing up here unannounced.
“So, why would you use a pet name directly after coming here without an invitation and, more importantly, stating you’re my husband?”
“Well, I—”
“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing, Spencer?” I decided to stop playing his games and figure out what had possessed this man. “I figured you were an extremely busy businessman, out trying to run the world.”
“Not the world,” he said. “Just Mitchell and Associates.”
“Which might as well be the world,” I retorted with a sigh. “Look, I’m also busy, so let me set the record straight. I had a great time, but the reality is, I’m at work and very well satiated in the sexual department. I do have you to thank for that. So, thank you, and goodbye.”
“Before you kick my ass out of here,” he said, holding up his hands, “hear me out, please?”
I twisted my Cartier watch on my wrist, glanced down at it, and up to him, “You have exactly one minute, go.”
“What do you think about joining the mile-high club?”
My jaw dropped open. “Listen, dick-fuck,” I said, “I may have seemed like a high school girl while riding your cock all weekend, but that doesn’t mean I am one. Asking me to join the mile-high club is like asking me on a date to Chuck E. Cheese. I’m going to need your ass to grow the fuck up and be a little more direct with me about what you want and why the hell you came to my office today proclaiming you’re my husband.”
He smiled. “You are quite the woman, Nat Hoover.”
“I know,” I answered confidently. “You’ve officially wasted five minutes of my life asking a ridiculous question. Either leave or get to the point.”
“Jesus. And Jim thought I was aggressive?”
“I struggle to understand why. Does he know you like propositioning women to join the mile-high club so you can fuck them on his private jets? Because I swear if he doesn’t fire your ass over that stupid shit alone, there’s something wrong with him too.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed at me, and suddenly, I felt like I had just finished an interview and was hired for the job. What was this sneaky bastard doing?
“Clock’s ticking,” I reminded him, hoping he’d spit it out because I needed to get to work.
He sighed. “Okay, forget the mile-high club invite. How about this?” His wicked grin piqued my intrigue. “I’m curious about your bucket list.”
“My what?”
“Your sex bucket list,” he said.
“I swear I will never speak to you again if you ask me another childish question. Are you nervous? Seriously? What the fuck is wrong with you and these lame attempts to get me to fuck you on an airplane?”
His lips pinched together tightly, and his eyes grew darker, “What do you think about going to Italy with me?”
I waved my hand out to him. “You see? Now that is a language I speak. Not saying that I will go to Italy with you, but I appreciate the direct approach.”
Spencer smeared his hand over his forehead, and now I was confused more than ever, wondering why he was so off.
“Dear God, man, you’re a mess. I’m not sure asking me to go to Italy is quite what you’re after now, either.”
“It’s not. Well, not entirely.”
“Well, then, what entirely are you trying to ask me?”
