Dirty Rumor: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(63)
“You should know that Mr. Hunter has bought a controlling share of Williams-Martin, and he’s elected not to close Basiqué—for the time being. We have two issues to prove our worth to him. You know what that means, Catherine.”
“I do.” It means that there is no room for error. No room to let up. No room to slow down.
Then Sandra pulls off her reading glasses and turns back to me, looking me straight in the eye, her expression thoughtful, as if she’s considering some deep truth about me that even I have yet to learn.
“Your work here so far has been very satisfactory.” My heart leaps in my chest. This is the first time Sandra has ever given me such high praise, and I feel an intense burst of loyalty, strong and pure. I nod, forcing myself not to smile. Sandra disapproves of giddiness. She speaks again. “As long as you continue to perform, and as long as he leaves us to our own devices, we should be successful.”
For a moment I think she might say more, but she just dismisses me with a curt nod.
My heart flutters as I make my way back to my chest. There are too many emotions to sort through right now. God, I want him so much, but Sandra has just made it crystal clear: he’s the adversary now.
It’s him or my work, and I know which one has to come first.
I pull up my email and start firing off messages even while I place phone call after phone call to everyone I cancelled on this morning, summoning them back to Sandra’s office—yes, now, as fast as you can—and though I try to ignore the clock in the upper corner of my screen, I can’t help but watch it as the minutes tick by.
When the emails are finished, I risk it: I pull open a private browser window and type in a search. All I know is his last name, but I add keywords until…there he is, giving the camera a steely look for a promotional photo that looks to be a couple of years ago.
Three clicks later, I’m reading his biography on a Fortune list of New York City’s wealthiest residents. And he’s damn near the top.
I close the window and lean back in my seat, considering what I’ve just learned.
It doesn’t make much of a difference.
I wanted him on sight, and it had nothing to do with what he could buy.
Just what he could do with those hands, that body…
There will be no work at the office tomorrow. I’ll finally get at least half a chance to catch my breath.
By Wednesday I’ll be back in my desk, my focus where it needs to be.
Not on the slick wetness between my legs. Not on the heat rising to my cheeks.
Not on the cocky, mysterious Mr. Hunter.