Chapter 8 Me: Once again, you've officially overstepped. Vander: Are you unhappy with your new office? I think Hazel will love her play space. Me: How do you know my daughter's name is Hazel? He doesn't reply, and I'm not surprised by that. Ugh. This man. Me: Thank you for the laptop and toys for Hazel. Vander: You're welcome. Me: I think you're an elitist, manipulative asshole who covers his wrongdoings with shiny presents. Like my father, which only increases my dislike and distrust of him. Me: I'm not here for that. I'm here because you made me an offer I couldn't refuse and nothing more. Vander: Tell me about what happened with your father. Was he just reading my mind or following up on what I stupidly said the other night? I walk over and sit in my new ergonomically friendly chair and spin around so I'm facing the window and the Boston skyline. This is a bit of a trip. I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman minus the prostitute thing or the sleeping with a billionaire part. Okay, maybe it's not like that movie at all. Maybe it's Working Girl that fits this better, but Vander Moore is no young Harrison Ford. No, he's hotter, my inner cynic whispers, and I sigh. I shouldn't have said yes to this. Vander: You're not going to answer me. Me: You don't answer my questions. Vander: When do you plan to give your notice at the club? I shift in my chair and use both hands to type, liking this fancy new phone way better than my ancient flip one. Me: Who said I was? Vander: I expected that was implied. Me: It's not in my contract that I quit the club. Vander: Isn't that sort of the point of you earning more money? Me: Depends on who you ask. I already told you I liked the red outfit. Vander: Then feel free to wear it in your office as long as your door is closed and no one else sees you in it. I'd hate for anyone else to suffer the way I did the other night. That makes me smile. Me: I hope you haven't been in too much pain. Or maybe I do. Here's an article that might help. I do a quick Google search and attach an article about blue balls. Me: To get rid of it, it says you should pee, exercise, or do deep breathing techniques. You can also distract yourself with things like reading or sleep. Vander: Yeah, I can verify that's not how I got rid of that condition. I had a very strong and vivid memory of a woman in hot red pleather handing me my ass to help me along. I can't help but blush as I read that. I don't want to think about him doing... that to thoughts of me. I can't think of Vander that way. Not again. Vander: See you at the meeting, Angel. And that's when I get an idea. A bad idea, I'll admit, but an idea all the same. Maybe there are girls in this world who would be grateful to Vander and his strange attention, but I won't be one of them. I pull my lipstick out of my purse and head out the door of my office to find the bathroom. I smear the same red lipstick on my lips that I wore the other night, pull my long, blonde hair up into a tight ponytail, and find my way down to the conference room after making a pit stop to grab my new phone and laptop from my office. By the time I enter the room, it's filled minus Vander Moore. I smile and introduce myself to everyone. "You started fast," John, a marketing director, notes with a small chuckle. "When I put in for a new assistant, it took three months before I could get one hired and in the door with all the security they had to go through." "Oh, well, Vander already knows me, sorta, so maybe that's why it was easier," I say as I take a seat and set down my new, fancy devices. "He knows you? Sorta?" Alesha, the COO, picks up. "Yes. We were high school sweethearts, I guess you could say, but it's been a long time since we've seen each other until recently." The room falls silent, and I nervously twirl my bracelet. "You knew Vander in high school?" Jeremy, whose job I already forgot, is blinking at me with owl eyes. "Um. Yes." Heat prickles the back of my neck. Was I not supposed to say that? I have no idea how corporations work. Are histories and personal lives not discussed? Maybe that was in my contract as a no-go area, and I missed it. Oops. "Wow. You'll have to tell us all about him back then." Alesha is looking at me with different eyes now. The eyes of a woman sizing up the competition, and I wonder if she and Vander have a thing going. She's a vampire. One I can spot a mile out. And now she doesn't like me. Awesome start. Vander and Champagne walk in, cutting off the conversation. He doesn't say anything. His face is glued to his phone until he reaches the table and takes a seat, and I take a moment to study him like this. He's not wearing a suit or even nice dress clothes the way everyone else is. He's wearing a dark gray button-down with the sleeves pushed up to the elbows, revealing his colorfully inked arms, and black slacks with his blond hair all over his forehead and his face full of stubble that's turning into a beard. He's also wearing glasses with clear, gray frames, and damn. It's a look he pulls off well. The sinfully hot bad boy CEO. He's the smartest man in the room, and everyone knows it. He's also the most enigmatic, which naturally draws you to him. "I see you found the conference room with no trouble," Champagne says to me, pulling me away from my boss. "Easy as pie in the summertime." At the sound of my voice, Vander peers up and glances around until his intense green eyes lock with mine. They glide over my face, noting my red lips and tight, pushed-up hair, and a smile unfurls from the deadliest of places in him. One that makes a girl's belly flutter and her toes curl, even if he hasn't touched her. Even if she can't stand him. It's pure sex and seduction, but it's gone just as fast as it was there, and he looks away from me. "Good morning, everyone," he greets the room, rubbing his jaw, and that's when I see it. The knuckles on his right hand are split and taped with a butterfly dressing. They weren't like that the other night. Holy shit. He asked me about Ricky. And now that I think about it, Ricky said my "pimp" told him to stay away from me. Did Vander punch Ricky for me? "I trust you all had a good weekend," he continues. "We've got three new clients anxious to be part of our portfolio, a marketing thing we need to figure out, and finally, my new assistant to replace Champagne's enormous shoes. Let's all welcome Liora James." Everyone claps and smiles. Everyone except Alesha, who looks like she wants to murder me in my sleep. Interesting. Something tells me she wasn't coming after Champagne with this same vitriol. The meeting goes on, and I pay attention to everything, though I have no clue what half the things they're saying mean. They use a million acronyms and talk about various threats clients face from threat actors and the security measures they plan to implement for them. It's way over my head, and this is why I plan to stick to nursing. Which, I guess, is ironic since Vander's mother, who is a nurse midwife, is the person who got me into it. And grown-up Vander looks startlingly like his dad with the exception of his green eyes that are all his mother's. My phone buzzes on the table, and I slip it off and put it in my lap so I can read my text. Vander: I thought we said we were going to be professional and nothing more. Me: We are. Vander: Then what's with your hair and fuck-me red lips? I glance up, but Vander's not looking at me. He's listening to something Alesha is telling him. I tuck my smile down and reply. Me: I had no idea ponytails and red lips were distracting to you. Vander: Now you do, but something tells me this was an intentional move since I know you didn't walk into the building with them. How could he possibly know that? Was he watching me? Did he see me come in even though I didn't notice him? Me: Maybe you should let Alesha know those are your kinks. I'm sure she'd be happy to oblige you. He reads the text, and his gaze snaps over to me, his eyebrows pinched, before he starts typing. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Vander: Those aren't my kinks, Angel, just things that make you look far too fuckable. And that sounds a bit like jealousy with Alesha. I ignore the part about kinks and the natural question that follows that and the fact that he said I look fuckable. Me: Not jealous. Simply noting some tension there. She doesn't like me because I let it slip that I was your high school girlfriend. A smile subtly curls up the corner of his lips. Vander: Did you now? Me: She didn't like it. You should tell her she has nothing to worry about there. Vander: I don't fuck my employees. Which is why the red lips and high ponytail have to go. A shudder ripples through me, and my nipples tighten at his subtle threat. And my stupid curiosity about what his kinks are. It's not a good reaction to have. Not at all. Me: I'll think about it, but I don't like following men's orders, so I doubt I'll comply. Vander: I'm positive I could get you to follow my orders with the right incentives. I squirm in my seat and resist the urge to bite my lip. What the fuck is happening? I work at a strip club. Since when am I so easily turned on by a few texts? And why is the thought of Vander dominating me in that way so freaking hot? Me: We'll never know. Vander: You're distracting me. Maybe hiring you wasn't the best decision. Me: Probably not, but it's too late now. You made your bed. Now you have to lie in it with your blue balls. Vander: I believe I already told you how I cure that problem. He sets his phone down on the table, essentially ending it there, but it's too late. My panties are wet. I can feel it. This is not the best way to start working with him. Especially when I don't exactly like the guy and he's not someone I should ever get mixed up with again. I just wish I didn't love pushing his buttons as much as I clearly do. Seems like that might get me into some trouble if I'm not careful.