There’s a small possibility that these women just have the same tattoo, but the more I look at CurvyBabe, the more I see the similarities between them. Same black hair that hangs nearly to her ass, curly and full. Those same pouty lips I’ve dreamed about on more than one occasion.
How could I not have seen it before? The truth is so obvious as it stares me in the face, mocking me with my own stupidity. My number-one rule has always been to never get involved with an employee, no matter how tempting.
And Lety is so fucking tempting—making me contemplate breaking my own rules. It’s been easy to ignore her and pretend that my body doesn’t react each time that perky ass walks by my door with those wicked high heels.
Now that I know this information, what the fuck do I do with it?
I know one thing for certain: Lety Zavala has become my new obsession.
And this time, I don’t think I want to ignore my need for her. Maybe it’s time to break all the rules.
CHAPTER3
OFFICE GAMES
Lety
Ithink I’m getting fired.
César has gone out of his way not to talk to me, going as far as denying my phone calls, only to send a quickly worded email to communicate with me. It doesn’t take much to read between the lines that my boss is unhappy. The question I’m left with is what the fuck did I do?
Nothing has changed. These last two weeks, I have made his appointments as normal, juggled his schedule, met with his clients, and all the other small admin tasks that come across my desk. Then again, maybe he’s frustrated that nothing has changed. Like he expects me to get better at my job. Which is a load of shit, because I’m already damn good at what I do. I’m timely, efficient, and extremely organized. I don’t drop the ball, and that’s a lot more than I can say about the other admins and secretaries here. I don’t see how I could be any better at what I do.
It got even worse when César sent Melanie and Kase to deliver messages he could’ve given me over a quick call. That’s not like him—he’s never shut me out like this before. Normally, he makes a point to greet everyone in the building each morning, always stopping by my little office for five minutes to shoot the shit and I’d fill him in on his day. But now? He hasn’t approached me once in the last two weeks. Not a word. And I can’t shake the feeling that something’s seriously wrong.
Despite these turbulent weeks, I’ve stayed focused on the work. It seems to pile up daily at this point, and I’ll be relieved when the expansion is finally complete. César and Elias can hire more people then. I’ve been in back-to-back meetings today, not even having a moment to work on the mountain of paperwork piling up on my desk.
Looks like tonight is going to be a long day in the office, and thankfully, I have no scheduled shows that would conflict with my day job.
Being a camgirl has brought in a lot of confidence—and money. I know people say this all the time, but I truly don’t do it for the money. Though it is nice—I won’t lie about that. However, I enjoy the power it brings me. The way I can command an entire audience, who have all paid to watch me—it’s a big boost to my self-esteem. Half of these men wouldn’t ever admit to liking bigger girls in real life, but they certainly eat it up in private.
So, if I lost this job, I wouldn’t be completely without pay. But the benefits here are great, and the income is more than I would get anywhere else. Plus, I actually like my job. I don’t plan on being a camgirl for the rest of my life, and I don’t want to rely on it to be my main source of income. It’s a job, sure, but it’s also a fun way for me to distress, and I don’t want that feeling to go away by making it my sole source of income. I prefer it being more of a hobby, so it doesn’t lose its sexy appeal.
By the time I finish with the first stack of paperwork, the office has cleared out. The room is dark, except for the dim light filtering in through the windows. The sun is setting quickly, bathing the room in a soft honey glow. The janitorial team has started their nightly routine, and I wave at Mr. Anderson, the head janitor for our floor. I’ve gotten to know him a bit over the last few weeks because of the late nights. He waves back with a cheerful smile before getting back to work.
I turn back to the stack of papers on my desk. One page leads to another, and soon I’m in the zone—focused, tuned out from the world around me. The hum of the office, the occasional voices in the hallway, all fades away as I immerse myself in the reports. Time slips by unnoticed. It isn’t until my eyes strain against the dim light that I realize the sun has set, stealing away the only natural light in the room. I reach up and flip on the desk lamp, barely pausing before diving back in. Just as I reach for the next report, something brushes my shoulder. I scream like I’m the lead actor in a horror film and shoot out of my chair, heart pounding.
I whirl, hand on my chest to see what touched me. Leaning against my door, with an amused smile on his face, is César. I freeze, both shocked and terrified to see him here. I should have known he’d be here just as late, but considering he’s kept me at arm’s-length these past two weeks, I forgot he was in the building.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?” I snap, unable to hide my embarrassment from the overreaction. Part of me realizes I shouldn’t be snapping at the man who holds my future in the palm of his hands and signs my check, but I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.
“I did. Multiple times,” he muses, pushing off the door, moving into my closet-sized office. The space suddenly feels suffocating with César’s large body taking up the room. We’re so close I can smell the spearmint from his aftershave.
“You…did?”
“Mm-hmm.” He perches on the edge of my desk. “Saw that you were still here and wondered why you’d be here this late.”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Could you?” He raises a brow. “And here I thought you managed my calendar.”
“Oh, so you’re acknowledging me personally for the work I do? And hereIthought you only did that through your other employees.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. Because the truth is, I’m hurt. I hate that I’m coming to work each day, nervous it’s going to be my last. I hate the added stress put on an already stressful job.
The look of bewilderment on César’s face takes me by surprise. Which only further confuses me. “Did you come in here to fire me? Because if you are, just say it already.”
“Fire you?” His eyes go comically wide. It would be funny if it wasn’t such a serious topic. “Why the fuck would I fire you?”
“Because…” All the pent-up rage leaves me in an instant, leaving me feeling foolish. Maybe I was reading into things that weren’t there? I’ve seen his schedule. Hell, I run his schedule, so I know how busy he’s been. He’s doing all he can to keep afloat. So am I.
