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“What kind of issue?” I asked, and having read through my contractual obligations—kinda my specialty—I recognized that he wasn’t wrong.
Notice my wording there.
He wasn’t wrong, but nor was he right.
“Do I look like a creeper to you, Jessica?”
“A creeper?”
“One of those bosses who lechs over their employees, making inappropriate comments and staring down their blouses as they do so?”
For a second, I was dumbfounded because the man had done nothing but make inappropriate comments. But, and it was another huge but, he hadn’t looked down my blouse.
Not once.
He hadn’t made any lewd remarks, just unusual ones. I didn’t feel threatened by his presence, even though his big body was taking up a huge chunk of my desk, and I was literally cornered
thanks to the desk’s location in the office. I didn’t feel scared or worried… and I’d been nothing but for the last two years.
As a result of those startling realizations, I slowly shook my head. “No. You’re not a lech.”
He beamed at me. “I knew you liked me.”
Despite myself, I had to laugh—he sounded so pleased. “Is that important? For me to like you, I mean.”
“Of course,” he told me, his tone utterly serious. “How could I get you to go on a date with me if you didn’t like me?”
Well, he had me there.
“Date you?” I asked, feeling confounded, and getting another feeling that that was going to be par for the course when I was around this man.
I felt like he was a hurricane and, in his presence, I would constantly be in the eye of his storm.
Surprisingly enough, that thought didn’t scare me further. Nothing about this man scared me, and he should.
He was talking about dating. He was my boss. He was in a position of power, and I’d learned first-hand that those in power often won out. Their wants streaming over the minions around them, almost like they existed in a different subspace.
But, Max Greene was different.
I wasn’t sure why, but my body was.
“You know what a date is, Jessica,” he told me blandly. “I don’t need to explain that to you, do I? Or attraction?”
I pursed my lips. “No, I’ve managed to figure out what they are.”
“Well then,” he declared, getting to his feet, “that settles it. I’ll pick you up at seven. Email me your address so I know where to aim the chauffeur.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” I asked to his retreating back.
He looked over his shoulder. “What is it, Jessica?” he asked, sounding concerned.
My mouth worked like a goldfish’s for a second. “N-Nothing.” And when he beamed that smile at me, I knew I hadn’t lied.
Nothing was wrong.
I just wasn’t sure why.
Chapter 3
