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“What?” I gaped and shook my head. “You can’t fire him.”
“I sure as fuck can. I own the company. He shouldn’t be asking out coworkers. It’s unprofessional.”
“That’s rich, seeing as you’re fucking your assistant,” I huffed and marched toward the door.
He was fast. He moved around me and stood against the door. “Is that what I’m doing? Fucking my assistant? Spending every day with her, every night? Talking, laughing, taking fucking bubble baths? I think it’s a bit more than that, yeah?”
“Don’t play the victim card. The ball has been in your court the entire time. You’re the one who wants to keep it casual, not me.” My vision blurred as my eyes watered, and a lump formed in my throat.
His hand moved to my neck, his fingers resting on my cheek. “I don’t want to keep it casual. I want you, Georgia Reynolds. I don’t want some dumb fuck asking you out at the office. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. Because you are, and we both know it.”
“I can live with that,” I said as a tear rolled down my cheek, and his thumb swiped it away. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Well, you’re fired, for starters.” He let me go and moved toward his desk, back in business mode.
“What? You’re firing me?”
“I can’t be fucking my assistant, Tink.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “But you own the company.”
“It’s still inappropriate.” He picked up his phone and dialed. “Hi, Virginia. Put out an ad for a new front-desk receptionist.” I could hear her talking frantically in the background, and he held the phone away from his face and rolled his eyes. “No. You aren’t fired. You’re my new admin.” More shouting as he pulled the receiver away again and winked at me, like he hadn’t just fired me and left me hanging. “She’s not fired, either. She’s been promoted to creative director. Send out an office email, please, and let everyone know about the changes. And also, make it known that the new creative director and I are dating, as well. Your first task as my admin is to spread the word. And make sure Craig is aware.”
I heard her squealing before he slammed the receiver down and looked up at me.
“I’m the creative director? Do we need to run this by anyone first?”
“I’d already gotten it approved this morning by the board. That’s what I was coming to tell you when I found that dickfucker hitting on you.”
“What does this new position entail?”
“You’re going to do exactly what you’ve been doing, minus the monotonous stuff. You’ll give input with cover designs, continue reading manuscripts, give feedback on blurbs, and help me find new talent.”
“Will I still be picking up your dry cleaning and bringing you coffee?” I raised a brow and moved closer to him, coming around his desk.
“I’m not letting Virginia touch my clothing. She spilled coffee all over the front desk twice this week already. So, yes. If you’re willing to handle my dry cleaning, I’d appreciate it. And the coffee…”
I rested my hands on his shoulders as one leg came around each side of him so I was straddling him. “What about the coffee?”
“I mean, no one makes it as good as you.”
“You just want to find a reason to keep me coming in here for you.”
“I want to find a reason to keep youcoming, Georgia Reynolds.” His lips moved to my neck, and I felt him harden beneath me.
“I thought you didn’t do relationships, Bossman,” I whispered, and my voice was hoarse and filled with desire.
“That’s before I starteddoingyou. And now I can’t get enough.” He kissed along my throat and down to my collarbone. “I want to take you to dinner and ski down a mountain without wearing enough gear to suffocate myself. I want everyone to know that we’re together.”
“Mrs. Runither will be so disappointed,” I groaned as he nibbled my earlobe. “She keeps asking me about you.”
His head shot up with concern as his gaze locked with mine. “She punched me in the dick yesterday when I went to pick up that to-go order for us.”
A wide grin spread across my face. “Did she?”
“I think she was trying to slyly graze my goods, but she stumbled and literally junk-punched me. I mean, the woman is old enough to be my grandmother. Who the fuck does that?”
“She’s a dirty old bird.” I laughed. “You didn’t mention it when you got home last night.”
