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She tries to sound confident, but her lower lip is trembling while she speaks.
And I want to bite that lip and then press her against the wall and strip her bare, torturing her until she begs for release, punishing her for talking to me like that.
No one has ever talked to me like that before. No man andcertainlynot a woman.
Of course, so many of them wanted to. Almost every person I meet thinks that I'm a jerk. They believe that I demand the impossible when the only thing I ask them to do is their job, and I need it to be done in time.
But no one has ever dared to speak to me like that.
Despite Crystal's full rose lips trembling a little, her huge dark brown eyes express confidence. She crosses her arms, breathing heavily, and now I need all of my willpower not to look into the cleft between her breasts, which rise and fall with each inhalation.
She's married,I remind myself. She just said that she used her family name in a fake résumé.
The moment I saw her, I became furious. It's not the first time a woman has tried to fool me and come into my office under the pretext of work, although in reality, all they want is to meet me because of who I am.
I'm a fucking money machine for them. And that's because of all those stupid magazines who put me on the cover as the most desirable bachelor.
I give interviews only because of my company. I know the internet era can't hide information, and I have to use this opportunity to increase my income.
And it has increased. Since I inherited the company from my father, the income has tripled.
But the interest has grown not only in the company but also in my personal life, and I don't really like it.
"I should probably go," she says, quieter, and makes a move to the door.
"You'll leave my office when we're done," I command, and she freezes again.
I go to my desk and take a seat.
"Am I not fired?" she asks, still standing almost motionless. "Or do you want to humiliate me before I leave?"
I try not to smile when she says it. This woman definitely has balls.
"Since the moment we met, it is you who’s tried to humiliate me, calling me a sexist," I say, not looking away from her eyes for a second. I lean a little closer. "Have a seat, Ms. Wilson." I point her to the chair in front of my desk. "Or should I call you Mrs.?”
For a couple of seconds she looks like a lamb trapped in a cage with a wolf. She looks at the chair, then at the door, probably thinking about running away.
But then she takes a step closer and finally sits down.
"Crystal is fine," she says, putting the folder she brought with her on the table.
She didn't answer my question. She knows it was a tricky one. I want to know if she's married.
"Did you know that fifty-three percent of my company's employees are women?" I begin, trying to speak calmer this time.
"I do," she says, quieter.
"And what kind of a sexist ensures over half of his workforce is female?"
She inhales deeply before answering my question. "All those positions are at a much lower rank than the ones you give men." She clears her throat. "All the people who work directly with you are men, Mr. Harden. Even your secretary is a guy."
"Chase beat out a thousand other employees who wanted this job. And my board of directors includes two women."
"And all of them are older than fifty," she asserts right away.
"So, you’re hinting that I'm not only sexist but also ageist?
"I don’t hint, Mr. Harden; I just stick to the facts." She looks directly into my eyes and tries to sound confident, but her chest is rising and falling so fast, as if she'll have a heart attack at any second.
