CHAPTER SEVEN
EMILY
No.
God, no, this can’t be happening.
I feel the blood draining from my face as I stand in the doorway of Bastian’s office.He looks as shocked as I am.Although he has a better poker face than me.
Bastian—he’s Mr.Remington.
My new fucking boss.
Of all the millions of men in New York City, I had to sit next to the one man on my flight to America...and suck his cock while flying at thirty thousand feet.
I’m no statistician, but I bet the odds of this happening are extremely low.I’d google it, but I’m too ashamed that I don’t even want my browser to know what I did.
Perhaps this is my time to come alive and be a sexually free woman.
Crap.
It’s safe to say that was the worst decision ever.I can almost see my father standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head at me.
I’m going to lose my job.
Only I could lose one before I even start.
There’s no way Bastian could allow me to work for him after what we did and his invitation tofinish our business.
I finally snap my mouth closed and wonder how he’s going to play this.The shame rolling from me in waves must be obvious.
Bastian looks angry, and I don’t blame him.
Honesty, even if he wanted me to stay, I’m not sure I could look him in the eye twenty times a day and not see his thick shaft and feel the veins which pulsed as he came down my throat.Or the way his eyes penetrated my soul while his fingers pumped inside me.How he smirked proudly as my body convulsed into orgasm.
This is bad.
Really, really bad.
I almost stumble as Julie guides me farther into the office and starts to give Bastian—shit, Mr.Remington—a rundown of my skills and background.
They are entirely unimpressive.
My sweaty hands slide down the sides of my black skirt, and swallow as Bastian’s gaze follows the movement at my throat.
His eyes snap to mine.
