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Jason Jimenez was a dick. I didn’t like him the second he gave me a limp handshake and I still didn’t like him now. I knew his type. Middle management that coasted for decades on doing as little work as possible. It was clear he considered Bridget–a name a hell of a lot better than Bridge–nothing more than a servant instead of an assistant made me wonder how he hadn’t gotten fired before now. It was obvious he’d been hired during my father’s tenure as CEO and hidden himself, and his behavior, well since I took over.
Not any longer.
It was the way he looked at Bridget’s ass that had me furious. Knowing Bridget from the few minutes at the coffee shop, she wouldn’t speak up about his behavior. Wouldn’t knee him in the balls and tell him to fuck off.
I wanted to do it, to tell him to fuck off, but not yet. I was thankful I’d overheard Bridget’s conversation earlier. It was clear now that it was with Bixby, the local contractor, she’d been talking to. He seemed a decent sort, knowing his stuff and admitting when there was a mistake. He wasn’t planning on billing tens of thousands of dollars for a math error.
As I listened to Ed, the engineer, and Bixby, give updates on everything from wiring codes to truss delivery, I didn’t miss a thing Bridget did. Which was nothing.
When she’d first come in with the food, I’d been stunned. Amazed that fate had made it easy for me to see her again. When she’d finally looked my way, she’d been just as surprised.
She had no idea who I was when she’d run into me, that was clear.
I’d thought she was beautiful before, and I’d told her that. But now?
Fuck, she was… lovely. I’d been right to be distracted. With her hair pulled back, her high cheekbones were prominent. Those green eyes were even more brilliant behind her glasses than earlier. She wore not a lick of makeup which only highlighted how naturally beautiful she was. A spray of freckles across her upturned nose wasn’t hidden by thick foundation. Her lips were the prettiest shade of pink and not from a tube of color. They were full. Kissable.
I’d tried to get her to eat, because no way in hell was she serving us and then not having any herself, but she’d stopped the second I gave Jimenez a little credit.
The petty fucker hadn’t shared who really earned the praise when I tested him. He took it and kept it for himself.
Because of that, Bridget had shut down. Her gaze never left the sandwich in front of her as her shoulders slumped. As if she hid herself away behind her glasses and plain clothes. Her brightness was gone.
When Ed and Bixby finished their sandwiches, they ducked out to get back to work. I’d agreed to stop by the job site later so they could walk me through it. They seemed happier with that than stuck here with Jason.
Bridget left the room with them, trying not to be noticed, but that was impossible.
I caught Jimenez’s eyes on her retreating form.
I cleared my throat and gripped the edge of the table.
He turned back, a smirk on his face. He leaned in, lowered his voice. “That young ass is a piece of work. So are her tits. I’m not sure if I like her better coming or going.”
From outside the opened door, I heard a little gasp.
I stood, pissed. I didn’t like Jimenez’s locker room talk, clearly done to seem like we were buddies. Two guys sitting around while the little woman served them and then moved on to ogle and demean her. Jesus, he reminded me of my father’s behavior. Women had to be pretty, willing to fuck, and dumb. Interchangeable.
This was not fucking happening. Especially when Jimenez didn’t give a shit that Bridget overheard what he’d just said about her. Not with me as CEO of James Corp. Not with any woman and especially not with Bridget.
His words, I completely agreed with, which made me feel like an asshole. An old asshole lusting after someone so young. I wasn’t sure if I liked her ass or tits better either, but that wasn’t something I was going to share. With anyone. I wanted to get my hands on her, but to make her feel good, to make her feel beautiful. Special. Not degraded.
“Tell me, Jason, how did you discover the square footage discrepancy?” I asked, trying not to grit my teeth, or put my fist through his.
He hopped to his feet, the wheeled chair rolling back. “Well, I… the math didn’t add up.”
“Right, but you shared a cost increase last week. Didn’t you think that was a big jump?”
“Yes, I–” he sputtered, but I cut him off. I didn’t need to have him spew any more of his bullshit.
“It was enough that I flew up here to meet with you.”
“The report shows the fix,” he countered.
“Because your assistant found it, isn’t that right?”
I might have been in a pink t-shirt, but I was still the boss. And pissed. I crossed my arms over my chest and Jimenez swallowed hard.
