CHAPTER
ONE
ROSETTE
It’s a fine Thursday morning, and I’m excited to go to work today. I had a very good idea last night, and I can’t wait to try it out.
As always, at nine a.m., a black SUV pulls up to the curb in front of my apartment building. I open the back door and slide inside. Across the console sits my boss, Mr. Roth.
Vincent Roth is big, even for an orc, with dark hair cut close to his head and wearing an impenetrable pair of sunglasses. His shoulders are so broad and square, his body so dense, it’s like he’s made of concrete. His belly is big, but not in the way that makes him appear fat—it’smore a layer of protection over his thick musculature.
He must work out a ton to have a body like that.
Today, we’re on our way to get some coffee before heading to a prospective site. The car pulls into the fifteen-minute parking zone, then I head in to grab our orders, which I placed online. The drinks are waiting under Mr. Roth’s name. I snatch them up before heading back out to the car. He takes his, nodding and saying nothing as I get back in and the driver pulls away from the curb.
Not even athank you. Silence, like always. But he does stare at me, his eyes traveling up from my belly to my tits, where I’ve left the top two buttons of my silk top open.
Once he’s finished eye-fucking me, hesmirks, bringing his tusk up his cheek. They’re menacing, those sharp, white tusks, even more so when he smiles like that. I despise that smug look, when he sees through me.
Because he knows I like it. When I bend over to pick up a pen, he peers at my ass, just as I’d hoped. While I lean forward to take a sip of my drink at lunch, his eyes drop to the collar of my shirt, appreciating my offerings. Even whenhe interviewed me, I could feel his eyes all over my body. I know I have great tits, and definitely a round, defined butt—especially so in my tight pencil skirts and silky work blouses.
He always looks. Peruses. Openly staring.
Mr. Roth only comes into the office for a few hours a week, and the rest of the time, I need to tag along wherever he chooses to go. He goes to bars, meets with clients there, then visits a work site. Then he meets with another client, only returning to the office to tidy things up.
All day, we travel side by side in the back of his black SUV, me with my notebook and phone, taking calls, making appointments, canceling them when a lunch goes too long and trying to reschedule. All, of course, while Mr. Roth stares. While he undresses me with his eyes. While he blatantly looks from my feet, up my thighs, to my skirt and tits before meeting my face.
But never once has he touched me. Never has he behaved inappropriately. And that’s what I can’t stand. He objectifies me with his gaze while refusing to ever cross the line. I don’t even think he’s brushed my hand by accident at a restaurant. He’s certainly never pinched my ass or found an excuse to feel up my tits. I haven’t even felt the brush of his hip in the car. Healways keeps a good foot of distance between us, even though he takes up most of the back seat.
And I’m tired of it. Today, I have a surprise for him. Maybe it will finally turn the tide.
When we reach the first work site, I hop out first with my notebook and pen ready to go, my blonde hair neatly tucked in a high bun. I go for a more natural look with my makeup to blend in.
Slowly the other car door opens, and Mr. Roth gets out. He has to stoop, but when he emerges, he towers above me.
“Come,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets as we head toward the site. The foreman comes out to greet us and starts showing us around. I take copious notes. Mr. Roth is interested in investing in this new high-rise, but it has to make sense for the firm financially. I don’t handle that part.
Mr. Roth doesn’t need to tell me anymore what to write down. I know what he’s interested in here—the vision, the exclusivity that would make these apartments more valuable than others in the city, the access and amenities. Right now, it’s little more than an empty lot, but it could become something greater.
When we’re done here, it’s back in the car to the office for a meeting. I go through the notes Itook earlier and transcribe them, then email them to Mr. Roth. I can see when he gets the message during his meeting, because he glances down at his phone, nods to me through the glass window, then turns his attention back to the CEO.
Afterward, we’re off to a client lunch where once more, I take notes as they talk, forgotten at the side of the table. When the waiter comes, Mr. Roth doesn’t ask me what I want to eat.
“A Caesar salad with grilled chicken for her,” he says, then moves on with the conversation.
I don’t object. I’ve never objected. Mr. Roth has ordered for me since the first lunch we ever had, asking for the same thing each time. Every restaurant has Caesar salad, after all.
Sometimes I think about telling him I want a sandwich, but I don’t. He also orders me the sparkling water, and then I don’t have to say a word for the entire lunch.
From time to time, a client will introduce themselves to me. I always shake hands and say my name back, but that’s the extent of it. Mr. Roth makes it clear that they aren’t to talk to me.
And then it’s back in the car, where I can feel his yellow gaze raking over me. He simply staresas we drive, occasionally licking his lips. I feel almost naked by the time we get back to the office.
Once Mr. Roth is seated, he turns on the phone and dials in to a conference call while I walk to the cooler for a cup of water. He watches me as he talks, unabashedly staring at my ass when I return to my desk. It’s time for my surprise.
“Please remind the shareholders once more that these are long-term projects,” Mr. Roth says into the speaker. “It will take some time for revenue to?—”
As I navigate into my chair, I slide my legs apart. I didn’t wear underwear today, and I just gave him a full look at the goods underneath my skirt.
