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“Word travels fast.” I’d told Ginger for a single reason only: to ensure she didn’t count on Alexandra working a shift for the next few days.
“Ginger wanted me to know.” He kept his eyes on me as if my hair was on fire. “Besides, you know the employees often come to me because they’re terrified of you.”
“Terrified? That’s crap.”
Jagger shrugged. “You started losing your sense of humor about five years ago. Since then, you shifted into being a cranky old guy.”
“Hey!” I pointed my finger at him. The dude was laughing. “I’m not old.”
“No, but you are cranky.”
I pushed the cup of coffee away, the bitter taste unusual. “Is that right?”
“I don’t tell lies. I will say over the last couple of days, it’s almost like you’re a changed man. With the exception of almost killing that kid last night.”
He wasn’t wrong, although I wasn’t going to admit it. I’d slowly fallen into a level of depression that had become close to impossible to ignore or fix. He said nothing, still remaining staring at me.
“What?”
He lifted a single eyebrow, the amusement on his face more irritating than normal. “You’re taking the girl with you. Aren’t you?”
Goddamn it. Nothing was private any longer. “I need an assistant.”
“Take Sheila.”
Sheila was a sweet girl who handled the books, working with Anastasia Wilde, who ran practically everything on the financial end out of the DC office. Coincidentally, Anastasia was also Grant’s spunky younger sister. “I need her here. Business in Miami doesn’t stop because I need to babysit a Parisian asshole.”
He chuckled. “No, you’re right. But are you hiring an assistant or a submissive?”
I gave him a hard look. “She’ll be back to waiting tables after we return.”
“Funny how you avoided the question altogether.”
“Don’t start with me.”
“Who’s starting anything? You were the one worried about whether she was of legal age or not.”
I rolled back in my chair, swinging it from side to side. “She’s very legal, thank you very much.”
When we both heard a knock on the door, he swiveled around, but I could still see the smirk on his face when he noticed it was Sheila.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Stark, but I found a personal piece of mail for you in the payments. I’m sorry. I’m usually better catching anything with the wrong address.”
She acted as if I was going to be angry with her.
“You can come in. He won’t bite, Sheila,” Jagger said. “He’s having a good day.”
Her face flushed and I almost pitched the mug against the wall. Had I become that much of an ogre? Evidently so.
“You didn’t need to bring it by now,” I told her, hating the sheepish look on her face.
“No. I knew it was important. It says urgent. I’m so sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
“Sheila. If it was so important, then the sender should have known my correct address. Not the one for the club. Okay?”
She gently placed it on my desk and backed away, almost tripping. “True. Still. I’m sorry.” When she turned and started to flee from the office, it wasn’t before giving Jagger a very sensual onceover, her face turning a bright red. I also couldn’t help notice that he’d returned the same salacious look.
I wasn’t the Neanderthal he thought I was, waiting until she was safely tucked away in the elevator before laughing softly. “Is there something I should know?”
