AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Have it on my desk in half an hour.”
“Mr. Priese, I’m not in Administration. I don’t even have access to your files.”
“I’ll text you my password. Half a fucking hour and no later.” Hardy was halfway down the hall after giving his order when he called over his shoulder, without even missing a step, “And a charcuterie board and bottle of merlot from Quintella’s as well, while you’re at it.”
Skylar’s mouth was still open in disbelief as her boss rounded the corner toward the bank of elevators, then disappeared. She slipped back into her office and sagged against the door, all feelings of power and strength and control gone in the blink of an eye.
Slinking back to her desk, she felt anger and resentment slide up her spine. Hardy’s reputation as a sexist asshole was known far and wide in the industry, but so far, she’d been relatively unscathed. But now, he’d just made her feel like an unpaid intern, an overworked personal assistant. None of those women deserved to be treated with such disrespect, either, but at least fetching files and ordering meals was in their job descriptions.
Her phone pinged with the list of documents and his password. Fuck. She combed through the company’s in-house directory until she finally found the various documents Hardy wanted printed out. She sighed. Eight reports, plus several in-house meeting notes and a handful of new client proposals. Essentially, an entire binder’s worth of reports. There was no way she could get the work done in thirty minutes, as he expected of her.
Sighing, she poured herself another gin, then looked up the number for Quintella’s. But before she called the exorbitantly expensive Italian restaurant, she struggled with herself. Her gaze went to the picture still on her computer screen.
Then she dialed a different number.
When the call was picked up, she opened her mouth to speak, but—
“Just tell me when and where,” Julian’s voice drawled out.
22
The moment Skylar walked into the packed bar, Julian saw the irritation on her face. He grinned over the lip of his martini glass as she scanned the crowd for his face. And just before her gaze met his, he looked down at the bar as if fascinated by the wood grain. Escort Technique Number Five— make them come to you.
He caught a whiff of her perfume among all the bar patrons, delicate and floral but with a hint of wildness. Like some sort of thorny mountain rose among a bouquet of store-bought carnations. And then her long, blood-red painted fingers appeared on the back of the bar stool next to his.
“I thought we agreed to meet somewhere private,” she murmured, her voice far more intoxicating than the crisp, cool vodka he swirled in his glass.
As Skylar slipped onto the stool, he slid her jacket off, letting his fingers drift along the back of her shoulders. After arranging the jacket on the back of the barstool, he hailed the bartender. Frank knew him well enough to know he’d tip generously for quick attention.
“Yes, sir?” Frank asked.
“A gin martini, extra dirty, for the lady,” Julian said. The bartender disappeared with nothing more than a courteous nod, leaving Julian to turn his attention to Skylar. She sat with such brittleness it seemed a touch could shatter her—spine rigid, arms crossed firmly over her chest. Even covered by the silk of her blouse, the swell of her breasts still managed to get him half hard.
Skylar raised an eyebrow over dark, narrowed eyes. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
She frowned as she eyed the throngs of people pressing against them from all sides. “This isn’t exactlyprivate.
He fought back a smile and looked around at the throng of people as if confused at their presence. “No?” he asked innocently.
Skylar smiled slightly and rolled her eyes. “No.”
He drummed his fingers along the edge of the bar as if contemplating the situation. Then he turned his head toward Skylar, and in a voice closer to a shout than a whisper in the loud bar, he said, “I want to strip you naked, pour my martini over your body, and lick your pussy on this bar top until you’re screaming and leaving red claw marks all up and down my back.”
Her eyes went wide at his loud and public proclamation. She nervously glanced at the cosmos-drinking women near her. But not even one looked over, undeterred in the slightest from their workplace gossip about John or Tim or Henry.
He was waiting with a victorious grin when Skylar finally looked back at him. “Private enough for you, then?” he asked.
She tipped her head in acknowledgment. “Touché.”
The bartender arrived with Skylar’s martini, and he slid it across the bar toward her. She ignored it as she studied Julian’s face. “How’d you know that no one would be listening in?” she asked.
He ran a finger up and down the long, thick stem of his martini glass before looking over at her. “Because unless it’s the case of someone falling down drunk, no one expects someone to say those kinds of things in public,” he explained. “Because there are rules, and we’re all expected to follow the rules.” he shrugged. “But I’m not big on rules.” He moved his hand to rest on the back of Skylar’s barstool. He could feel her body heat against the back of his fingers. Fuck. At this rate, his cock would be so stiff he could hang a hat on it.
“I sense that about you,” she said dryly.
“Touché,” he said, grinning and good-naturedly mocking her. He leaned in a little closer. “For instance, everyone in this bar can see my hand here, almost touching you, but no one looks closer because they think I wouldn’t dare do this.”
