“This…this is not real. You are just some guy I met in Vegas at my sister’s bachelorette and none of this is real. Which is kind of sad because this is exactly the way I hoped the inside of Hardin Records would be. Better than I’d hoped, actually.”
It’s official.
I’ve hired a lunatic.
Maybe Noah was right.
I should pay more attention to the people we hire before we hire them.
But that’s what my team is for. I vetted a team that knows exactly what I want so that I don’t have to sit through countless, agonizing interviews with every clown who thinks they have what it takes to write for Hardin.
I won’t be making that mistake again.
“If this is a dream, I want to play that Martin before I wake up. I doubt I’ll ever touch anything that expensive in real life.” Amanda walks towards the wall, but I stop her.
“Don’t touch that!” my voice booms and I literally see the hairs rise up on her arms.
I also can’t stop staring at her ass.
She’s wearing a black, pleather skirt that bunches around her curves just enough to give me flashbacks of the other night. It looks phenomenal. Though, I have to admit, I prefer it bare, bent over and open for the taking.
I shake the memory from my head and focus. “Don’t touch anything. Just sit down.”
Amanda walks over to a leather chair and sits curtly, keeping her knees together and arching her back to sit straight.
I’ve seen that back arched before. I’ve been responsible for that back arching before. And I’ve parted those legs before too. I could do it right now, if I wanted to. Hike that little skirt up, rip those black tights wide open and suck the moans out of her.
“You need to calm down,” I tell her, displacing the command.
“I am calm. But this…feels like a joke. If it’s not a dream, it has to be a joke.”
I take a few wide steps towards her, closing the space between us and look down at her. She lifts her chin to look at me, but her expression is anything but weak.
She’s sassy as hell, I’ll give her that.
I’ll break her of that…
“Do I look like a joking man?”
“I don’t know. I mean, you did pretend to marry me less than forty-eight hours ago.”
Against my better judgement, I bend down, grabbing the chair on either side of her, caging her against the back of it. “You will never speak of that again, do you understand me? Not here, not to your friends.”
There’s a hint of fear in her eyes, but she blinks once and it disappears, replaced by the brattiness again. “What happens in Vegas and all that.”
I stand up, needing to get away from her pheromones. She smells like black current and it’s fucking with my head.
I don’t like my head being fucked with.
“This is just my luck,” she sighs.
“I don’t believe in luck,” I mutter, mentally sifting through the shit in an attempt to find a way around this. “Only odds.”
Amanda snorts a small laugh. “Those seem pretty low too right now.”
“I need you quiet while I try to figure out how we are going to go about this.”
“Well obviously you’re going to fire me.”
