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James lifted one and read aloud. ‘I organised the school prom.’ He picked up another. ‘Ran the welly-wanging stall at the village fête. Is this a joke?’ He leafed through the CVs again. ‘And why have they all got photos attached? I don’t give a rat’s arse what they look like.’
‘This is what people do nowadays.’
‘It’s not a fucking beauty pageant. They’re all women with an average age of twenty-two. How did this happen?’
Max crossed his arms. ‘That’s ageist and sexist.’
‘No, it’s a statement of fact. And here’s another one for you. None of them are even remotely qualified for any position. How the hell did you decide this lot was the best fit for the job? Swiping right?’
‘The salaries you’re offering aren’t high enough.’
James was silent. He knew that was true, but it still didn’t explain why the candidates looked like a young man’s dating wishlist.
He stood. ‘Re-advertise. And all applications go through me.’ Picking up the pile of CVs, he dumped them into the recycling bin. There was no way Estelle could see them. She was already convinced he was a blonde-obsessed horn dog, and these résumés would only confirm those assumptions.
There was no sound when James entered the corridor, but the moment he closed the door behind him, ‘Spice Up Your Life’ started playing. He rolled his eyes. Despite being a member of the British upper-classes and ballsy as fuck, Estelle also had an innocence about her. Her pranks were childish and rather sweet. He tried to imagine her in a corporate setting in London and felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. She’d be eaten alive by women like Elyse; corporate queens who ate low-carb nails with semi-skimmed blood for breakfast.
He smiled to himself. Estelle would go ballistic if he ever described her as ‘sweet’. Would she shoot another arrow at him if he did? The prospect was far too tempting.
Pushing open their office door, he was confronted by three dogs—two actual ones, and one downward one as Estelle’s magnificent backside presented itself to him.
His dick immediately sprang to life and he dashed to his desk, Chester and Joy following.
‘Hi!’ Estelle called out. ‘Just doing a bit of yoga.’
‘Do you always do it to the Spice Girls?’
‘Usually, yeah. They’re very spiritual.’
‘They are?’
She stood, raising her arms to the ceiling. She’d swapped her baggy jeans and jumper for a light grey Lycra vest top and leggings, and the fabric stretched deliciously over her ample curves.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘“2 Become 1” is about dissolving duality in the search for union with the divine.’
Folding at the waist, she placed her hands on the mat by her feet. James’s mouth watered and his hands itched to pull her onto his rock-hard cock.
‘And “Mama” is about honouring Gaia, the personification of the earth.’ She jumped back into a plank, lowered to the floor, then pushed into another downward dog.
As if tuning into his raging sexual need, Chester and Joy attempted to shag him again.
‘Down,’ he growled.
‘What, me?’
‘No,’ he replied, shifting to get comfortable. ‘Your sexually incontinent dogs.’
She grinned at him from under her armpit. ‘Maybe they’re picking up on your unmet needs.’
You have no idea… Jamming his earbuds in, he selected a track of white noise, then opened up his laptop and went to an online store. If Estelle wanted to exercise in front of him, then two could play that game.
Chester barked, and he glanced up. Estelle was standing in front of him.
He pulled out an earbud. ‘Yes?’
‘What are you listening to?’
Changing the track, he routed it through the speakers of his laptop.
