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“A spy is making you move an entire company into a new building?” I ask blatantly.
He grunts and ignores my question, continuing, “My days are already loaded into the phone, and you can set reminders and things however you like. I like to arrive at all of my appointments at least ten minutes early. So keep that in mind when coordinating my travel to and from certain destinations. I’ll leave you to familiarize yourself with the desk and those documents about how I prefer you to manage my schedule, calls, emails, et cetera. My direct line is programmed into the phone, and it’s the only number in there as of right now. Do you have any questions?”
“Yes. When is the elevator going to be fixed?”
He smirks, a grin that hides a smile which can take him from devastatingly handsome to breathtakingly gorgeous. “There’s nothing wrong with the elevators. This is a fitness company, Miss Meyers. I like to see the level of fitness in all of my employees, temporary or not.”
My eyes widen with horror. Anger radiates through my body, and there are murderous thoughts running through my brain until I land on an image of Dalia’s sweet face and calm myself down. Instead of reaming him out, I turn on the company phone and begin to go through the device.
I certainly don’t want to talk to Declan right now. I don’t care how much humor he finds in my reaction to finding out the 8-floor hike was a test of stamina. However, the idea of him walking those stairs, running them, dripping in sweat without any clothes on sends a burst of lust shooting through my body like a pinball machine.
My mind wanders to the very idea of Declan Daniels taking me in his office and putting me through a sexually strenuous workout. I can’t believe how badly I want him.
Shit. I have to stop this.
I can’t fantasize about this guy. He has to be at least 15 years older than me. He has his life together, and probably an entire family to support. Let me just get through these next few days without spontaneously dropping to my knees and inhaling his cock.
I call Dalia to stop my imagination from putting obscenely seductive fantasies on replay for the rest of the day.
I barely wait for her to get a greeting out before I hammer into the phone, whispering loudly, “Doll! I’m going to kill you ten times for making me take this gig. The man is a sadist!”
She chuckles. “I’m sorry, Den. You know I’d much rather you have the money off this gig than one of those bitches from the agency. Is he hot at least? I heard he goes through temps and assistants like trying to hold water in your hand.”
“I believe it. He makes people walk up 30-something flights of stairs to test their stamina on their first day.”
“It’s a fitness company, right?”
“Don’t give me that shit!” I hiss into the line. “You owe me so big for this. Text me at this number so I can finish cursing you out until it’s time for me to leave this place of tyranny.”
“Love you!”
“Bite me.”
A text message comes through almost immediately.
347-456-4567:
Good Morning
It never dawns on me to make sure that it’s Dalia’s number. There’s an immense amount of shame rippling through me for not knowing her number by heart. I reply back:
Don’t good morning me! You’re lucky he’s sexy af to look at! How slutty is it that I want to feel every inch of him hitting the back of my throat?
347-456-4567:
Can I see you in my office please, Miss Meyers?
My heart plummets as I know I didn’t do what I just think I did. Sure enough, the next text to come through confirms my error of epic proportion.
347-567-5678:
Don’t be mad at me, Dens. Dinner on me.
I don’t want to get fired. I just got here. Fuck me.
2
Declan
