Page 6 of Lying to the Boss

He smiles as I make my way over, noting the name plaque on his desk. David Miller.

“You must be Tage Briar. Lindsey said you were on your way up. Let me take you to the conference room.”

“Thank you.” I follow him down a few hallways to a medium-sized conference room with a table big enough for twenty people. The walls are painted off-white and adorned with blown-up photos of different pool and spa areas.

“Can I get you a beverage? Water? Coffee? Tea? Juice?” David asks kindly.

“No, thank you.”

He nods. “He’ll be right with you,” he says before leaving me alone in the room.

I assumed I’d be interviewing with the woman I spoke to yesterday, but I guess it doesn’t matter who I’m meeting with. Him. Her. I’m good with them all. Talking to people is what I know how to do. People are easy to read, and most don’t even realize it. But I see it all and use my strengths to get what I need. I’ve been told it’s manipulative, but I’m not making people do things they wouldn’t normally do; I’m just becoming what they want. So, okay, yes… manipulative, I guess.

I take a seat with my back to the door so I can look out at the city while I wait. It’s beautiful here. Loud. Busy. Everything I’ve craved since I was a kid. I’m tired of the quiet.

I’d told the guy from last night that I was from Boston, and it’s not really a lie. I’m from the Boston area, just not directly in the city. And being in Boston doesn’t hit the way being in Chicago does.

There is no clock in this room that I can see. Not that I have anywhere else to be today. It’s the only interview I have for the day, which is why I was so grateful when I got the call last night for it. It was entirely last minute, but apparently they’re looking to fill the spot immediately. Perfect. Because I’m looking to be hired immediately. Of course, I didn’t say that. I don’t want them to think I’m desperate. Even if I might be a little desperate.

I’m not sure how long I wait until someone comes in.

I hear the footsteps, before I see anyone. They're unhurried. Confident, as if they’ve walked this path a thousand times.

I keep my attention on the buildings outside the window as someone steps into my peripheral vision.

“Good morning,” they say.

The voice hits me first.

Familiar.

My stomach drops before I even look up.

No.

Slowly, I lift my head. Memories flood my mind.

Last night.

The bar.

His bed.

His cock.

The stranger who never gave me his first name. Except he isn't a stranger anymore. Not even close. He’s seen parts of me that not many others have, despite my confidence.

He's wearing a tailored charcoal suit, similar to the one from last night. The one I watched him peel off his body, layer by layer, as he got ready to fuck me the second time. His hair is perfectly styled, and somehow he looks even more expensive in daylight. Not that he looked bad last night. I knew he was made of money the moment I walked into the bar. It’s why I went after him, even though he thinks the entire thing was his idea.

"Well," he says as he stops on the other side of the table, one corner of his mouth lifting. "This is unexpected."

My brain... stops.

No. No, no, no.

"What—"

Mr. Monroe chuckles as he pulls out the chair to sit across from me.