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What the fuck is this?
The Dick? Arietta nicknamed me The Dick? She has no idea how apropos that is.
Against my better judgment, I let curiosity take control as I download the attached picture meant for her roommate’s eyes.
As soon as I get a glimpse of Arietta in a pale pink lace bra and panty set, all the air leaves my lungs.
I stare at it, at her with her long blonde hair draped around her shoulders and the eyeglasses she always wears perched on top of her head.
Jesus Christ.
My heart is racing. My mind is trying to comprehend what I’m seeing, and my dick is as hard as stone.
My executive assistant’s body can drive a man down to his knees.
I close the picture, willing myself to forget I ever saw it, but I can’t.
The image of her full round breasts covered in lace, her toned stomach, and those pink panties will forever be burned in my mind.
I snap the cover of my laptop closed and push back from my desk.
The urge to fire her is strong. The desire to fuck her is stronger.
I won’t do either.
Instead, I move to the window and stare out of it, willing myself to calm down enough to figure out how the hell I’m going to handle this and her.
Chapter 12
Arietta
“What time did you get to work this morning?” Bronwyn asks as she slides half of a poppy seed bagel across the table toward me. “You can eat this if you didn’t get a chance to grab breakfast.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “I was here before the sun came up.”
She takes a bite of the half bagel in her hand. “Did Dominick dump extra work in your lap again?”
That’s an ongoing thing. He always assigns me more work than he thinks I can accomplish in one day. I’ve never fallen short of completing it all.
It feels like a competition, even if Mr. Calvetti would never admit that’s what it is.
“It’s not that. I’m nervous,” I confess.
Bronwyn gazes around the break room. Since three of our co-workers are sitting at a table less than ten feet away, she lowers her voice. “Why?”
I pick up my half of the bagel but set it back down on the paper napkin before I take a bite. “I’m going out for dinner with that guy I told you about.”
Bronwyn sits up straighter in her chair. “Tonight?”
I nod. “I’m excited, but there are a million butterflies in my stomach right now.”
She pushes the bagel closer to me. “Eat, Arietta. You don’t want to pass out tonight right before the good stuff happens.”
I can’t tell if she’s joking, so I perk both of my brows. “What?”
“Sex uses a hell of a lot of energy.” She chuckles. “Good sex does, so eat up.”
I’m not hungry, and I’m not in the mood to remind her that I don’t have sex on the first date.
I glance at the clock hanging on the wall behind her. “I need to get back to my desk soon.”
Her gaze drops to the watch on her wrist. “We have seven minutes.”
I pick up the bagel and take a small bite. Chewing it slowly, I wait for her to say something.
She adjusts the collar of the pristine white blouse she’s wearing. After clearing her throat, she grins. “I know that you’re not comfortable getting physical with a guy right away. I get that, but don’t let that get in the way of a great goodnight kiss.”
The corners of my lips curve up in an uncontrollable smile. “I do like kissing.”
“Me too.” Her eyes widen. “I thought my first kiss was amazing until I grew up and realized what a great kiss is.”
The sudden jarring sound of fingernails racing down a chalkboard startles us both.
Bronwyn cringes. “What the hell was that?”
Laughing, I point at my phone on the table. “It’s the notification I set on my phone for Mr. Calvetti’s incoming emails.”
That lures a giggle from her. “That’s ingenious, Arietta.”
“It’s fitting.”
She smiles at me. “I know I lucked out when I landed my job. Dominick isn’t anything like Judd.”
That’s an understatement.
I glance at my phone. “I should read the email, but I already know what it’s going to say.”
“What?”
I lower my voice, trying to mimic Mr. Calvetti’s gruff tone, but I fail miserably as soon as I say my name. “Miss Voss...”
Bronwyn lets out a laugh so loud that the people sitting near us turn to look. They join in, not knowing what they’re laughing at.
Once the laughter fades, I lean in toward Bronwyn and whisper, “I had to draft an email to Mrs. Blanchard to try and convince her to meet with Mr. Calvetti. I sent him the draft before my coffee break. He likely changed ninety percent of it and sent it back to me.”
“The email I sent on Judd’s behalf two days ago didn’t even garner a response from her.”
