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"You may leave now, Ms. Easton."
I gape at him, too shocked to move. Did he dismiss me after what he did to me? Can I expect an apology from him? No. Can I report him for his misconduct… To whom? He owns this company, so the HR person would answer to him. Besides, I need this job. So, I’m going to put up with everything he did because— He’s my best friend’s brother, and a complete dick, andhisdick had felt so good when I’d felt it pulse against my pussy.
He places his phone face down on the desk and turns to his laptop. He begins to tap away at the keyboard, and I'm sure he’s forgotten all about my presence. I shake my hair back from my face, then grab my bag from his desk and head for the exit.
"Also, I’m sorry."
I pause, then turn around to face him. "Did you say what I think you did?"
He raises a shoulder. "I seem to forget myself around you, but you’re right. I need to maintain a professional relationship, now that you’re my employee. It won’t happen again. Not unless you want it to, that is."
So that wasn’t really an apology. What a piece of work he is. I don’t want anything to do with him. I don’t.
I turn to leave again, and he calls out, "HR is on the floor below. Have them onboard you, and I’ll see you at your desk tomorrow at eight a.m."
* * *
"So that’s it? You’re working for him?"
I pull up my legs and wrap my arms about my bent knees. "I guess?" I slouch into the sofa and watch as Mira rustles up dinner for us. The HR induction had gone okay—I guess. Except for the pitying look I got from the HR manager. When I asked her what the problem was, she let slip that everyone tends to give Knight a wide berth. He’s only been in this position a few weeks, but his reputation as being very difficult to work with has spread throughout the building—which his family owns. Also, he’s been through an assistant a day since arriving. Not one has lasted past lunch time. And yes, there's a betting pool going on for how long I'm going to last. They don’t realize I don’t have a choice. I have to grit my teeth and bear it because that's my only option. I'm already in the asshole’s debt.
Mira plates out the spaghetti, then slides one across the breakfast counter. "Let’s eat."
"I’m not hungry."
"You need to maintain those curves—"
"That’s what he said."
She frowns. "What are you talking about?"
"Nothing." And no, I’m not insecure about my plus size figure. I like how I look. I’m a big girl, and although I’m not tall, my curves compensate for my lack of height. Certainly, Knight hasn’t complained once as he’s squeezed my ample butt. Also, I like to eat… Normally. So, why have I lost my appetite? I unfold myself from the sofa then walk over to take my place on the barstool. "Do you think I’m making a mistake?"
Mira waits until she’s swallowed the mouthful she’s eating. "A mistake?"
"Agreeing to work for Knight?"
I nod, then twirl some of the strands of spaghetti around my fork before sliding them inside my mouth. The tart flavors of tomato and the tanginess of the garlic seep into my tongue. "It’s delicious. Thanks for making dinner."
"Of course, sweetie." She eats some more of her food, then eyes me closely. "I’ve never seen you this disturbed. Not even when you thought you had less than twenty-four hours to find a solution for keeping your mother in the care home."
"I never lost faith that I’d find a solution. I just didn’t think the solution would be this one."
"So, you go to work for him. What’s the problem?"
"I feel beholden to him. He paid for my mother staying on in the care home and now, I feel I have no option but to work for him, you know? It’s not a feeling I like. I feel like I’m not in control anymore, like I have no option but to continue working for him, even if I don’t want to.” I place my fork back on my plate.
She pops a shoulder. “Maybe this will force you to stay focused and see this job through."
I blink. "Are you saying I can’t focus? I know I’m not good at seeing things through. I like anything new and shiny and can’t stop myself from chasing them.” I hunch my shoulders.
"Oh, honey, I didn’t say that to make you feel bad." She leans over and puts her arm around my shoulders. "All I’m saying is, since it cuts down on choices, you’ll have to double down and concentrate on the job, which might help ground you."
Only, he’ll be there. Seeing him, working with him, watching him, smelling him, trying not to stare at him all through the working day… It’s going to be torment—sweet torment, but torment, nevertheless. And how am I going to get through my time working for him, without sleeping with him, or worse, falling for him? Because I’m not so good at separating my emotions from the physical. And he doesn't seems capable of reciprocating any sentiments, either.
Something of my thoughts must show on my face, for she stares. “Did you sleep with him?"
"What? No!"
