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When they figure it out, maybe they can let me know. I don’t even know why I still have her here with me.
When we finally get to my office, she sags down onto the couch and looks up at me with her beautiful brown eyes.
She looks a little pale. Her eyes are tired, and the way she’s laying against the leather couch, she appears worn out. Suddenly, I wonder if she’s had anything to eat all day.
“Have you eaten?” I huff. I’m still not used to caring for anyone but myself, so it seems strange to ask such a question.
“You told me not to touch anything.”
My face falls, and fills with shock. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”
I pick up the phone and call the bar. Candy answers on the second ring, her sultry voice filling the receiver. “Night Shift.”
“Candy, bring us some food…whatever the fuck the special is, and a beer. I need a fucking beer.” My eyes lift to Keira. “Maybe bring Kiera a drink too. Whatever fucking girls drink.” I slam the phone down, ending the call before she can respond.
My eyes find Keira’s. Seeing her pale skin angers me so much. Why the fuck wouldn’t she eat? Why wait until she’s sick?
I shove the thoughts away before I blow my top, and busy myself with looking at pictures of possible new girls, but my eyes keep wandering back to Keira sitting on the couch like she’s at the dentist’s office waiting to be seen. Wearing yoga pants, sneakers, and a baggy white shirt, she couldn’t look any more out of place—yet she still looks hot as fuck.
I don’t understand my infatuation with her. She makes my blood run hot. Her inability to listen turns me on more than I care to admit.
A knock sounds against the door, and a moment later, Candy walks in, bringing us our food. She sets a bottle of my favorite beer in front of me and hands Keira some light pink colored drink with a little umbrella on the rim.
“I’m not old enough to drink,” Keira says after Candy leaves. It reminds me that I don’t know anything about her—let alone her age.
“How old are?”
“I just turned eighteen.” Well, at least she’s legal.
“How old are you?” Her question takes me by surprise. I can’t remember the last time anybody asked me such a mundane question.
“Twenty-two.” I know I shouldn’t have answered. The twinkle appearing in her eyes tells me she’s eager to learn more about me, and I don’t want her to ask any more prying questions.
“How long have you owned this place?”
Exactly what I didn’t want to happen. More questions. I don’t want her knowing more about me than she needs to.
“Enough questions. Eat. In silence.”
Candy comes back a few minutes later to take our plates, and replaces my empty beer bottle with another.
Keira hasn’t touched her drink, but her hands are wrapped around the glass like she’s considering it.
“Dave is at the bar waiting for you to call him in,” Candy announces, an unsure look on her face.
“Send him in.”
Candy nods and leaves the office.
My gaze swings to Keira. “Remember what I said. Keep your mouth shut,” I warn and watch her take her first sip of the pink drink.
A knock sounds on the door, and I call for him to enter. Dave walks in, his eyes going straight to Keira.
“Oooh, who is this? New girl?” The grin on his face tells me he’s more than interested, and I don’t like it—not one fucking bit. His eyes roam up and down her body, and images of me bashing his head into the side of my desk immediately enter my mind.
“Don’t mind her. She’s my new secretary. Getting her a tiny little desk for the corner soon,” I mutter through a clenched jaw.
When his eyes continue to linger on her petite frame and heart-shaped face, I almost lose it. “Sit your fucking ass down and quit staring at her. You came here for business, not to eye-fuck my secretary.”
Dave pales at my sudden outburst and sits in the chair in front of my desk without another glance at her.
“Tell me about business.” I place my feet on the edge of the desk and listen to him drone on about how much he’s been selling, in what areas, the new guys he hired, and how the cops got one of our guys in custody but he isn’t talking.
The entire time he’s speaking, my eyes wander to Keira. She’s been silently taking small sips of her girly drink, her plump lips puckered around her straw. My dick is harder than hell.
“All right, that will be all,” I interrupt. I stopped listening minutes ago, too enamored with Keira’s lips around that damn fucking straw. Does she even realize what she’s doing? Probably not, but I don’t care. She can play innocent all she wants. I’ll be the judge of how truly innocent she is.
