Boyfriend for Hire(55)
“It’ll take a few days for the new system to fully adjust, but I’ll keep an eye on it. In the long run, it should make your job a lot easier.”
When I decided that she should work with me in my home office, it made sense at the time. The room is big enough for both of us to work comfortably, and having her nearby makes it easier to communicate what needs to get done and answer any questions she might have.
But something about having her so close all the time makes my skin crawl. And it’s not just because she blows through every assignment I give her in a fraction of the time I think it’ll take her. No, being this close to her is unnerving for a whole different set of reasons.
First, I never expected her to be drop-dead gorgeous, with honey-colored hair down to her waist, big blue eyes, and a nice set of perky tits that are definitely more than a handful.
And what is that scent? I’ve been trying to place it all week. My office usually smells like male deodorant and coffee. Now that’s been replaced with a new mouth-watering aroma that I’m having trouble putting my finger on. It’s not too flowery or too strong, and there are hints of rose and cedar. She smells chic and sophisticated and utterly sexy.
It’s pissing me right the fuck off.
That tongue-lashing she gave me on her first day was more than a little eye-opening. This girl’s got balls, that’s for sure. She doesn’t act one bit like I expected her to, and I have no idea why that’s so appealing to me.
Fuck. I scrub my hands through my hair.
I guess it’s because I’m used to women fawning all over me, wanting to fuck me from the word hello. Sienna is nothing like the women I’m used to. Which is a good thing, I remind myself. If there’s one thing I definitely can’t do, is picture myself fucking Ryder’s little sister.
When my cock twitches in my jeans at the thought, I inhale deeply, trying to calm myself. At the same time, I realize Sienna is looking up from her computer, staring directly at me.
“Thanks for that,” I reply, thumbing through the stack of client files that have somehow tripled behind my desk.
She doesn’t respond, and even with my back turned, I can practically see her staring expectantly at me, just like she has every time she finishes a task before I’m ready for her to. So far I’ve chosen to ignore her, make her say something before giving her something else to do.
I’ve run out of small, meaningless tasks to give her, and when it comes to throwing real work her way? Well, let’s just say I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet.
After a couple more minutes of silence, she clears her throat, absentmindedly tapping her pen on the pad of paper next to her laptop.
I slowly turn from my paperwork, making a point to meet her gaze. “Yes?”
“Well, I was just wondering, when are you going to let me do something real?”
“Something real?”
“Everything you’ve had me do so far is grunt work. The kind of thing you have some airhead intern do. I don’t know what my brother told you, but I graduated summa cum laude, so I’m sure I can handle something more substantial than data entry, alphabetizing folders, and in-box organizing.”
When I finally look up from the stack of papers in my hands, I’m surprised by how stern and direct her gaze is. For someone on the third day of a crappy summer job, she’s really not fucking around.
“Plus,” she says, sitting up straighter in her seat, “I should know how to run the office when you’re not here. For, you know, when you’re out meeting with clients.” She gives me a double wink. The little brat.
I don’t bother pointing out that I’m not currently seeing any clients because that would only prompt her to ask why. I shudder, remembering our game of fifty questions from her first day. She’s a nosy little thing without many boundaries, or personal filters, apparently. And I’m certainly not ready to tell anyone, least of all her, that I can’t get my joystick to function properly.
“All right, fine. You can take over these new client files. Don’t forget to attach the disclaimers and the privacy agreements. The last thing we need is a publicity shitstorm just because the new hire isn’t familiar with the rules of the trade.”
Sienna nods and flashes me a smile, but I can tell it’s forced. If this job has taught me one thing, it’s how to tell when a woman’s faking it. And that smile was fake as fuck.
It’s week fucking one. What does she want from me? Christ.
I drop the new client files on her desk, leaning on the back of her chair and arching a concerned brow. “Look, I’m sure you can handle it. I just don’t want to give you more than you can manage to start out. New jobs can be hard enough, and what we do here is so unorthodox, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were . . . distracted.”
Her eyes grow wide for a moment, a look of horror and disgust quickly taking them over. “If you think I’m going to drool all over you like one of your little groupies, let me assure you, that won’t be a problem.”
I shrug and cross my arms, stepping back to lean one hip against my desk. I’m about to point out that she couldn’t afford a ride on this love stick, but then I remember she said Ryder’s a trust-fund kid. Which means she is too. She could probably afford multiple rides on this love stick.
That realization should annoy me, but it doesn’t. A familiar ache in my gut throws me off my game for a second, and I notice that Sienna’s chest is heaving with frustration. Seeing her so hot and bothered only makes me want to push her further.