He raises an eyebrow. It’s a challenge, but I’m not engaging. I’m done with this conversation. We eat more or less in silence;other than a few questions he has about actual work-related things. Then he reminds me of an owner’s party we are expected to attend at Top Golf.
“I hate golf,” I grunt as I take a bite of my ahi. It’s thinly sliced, perfectly seared and peppered. At least one thing about this lunch is bearable.
“It’s not real golf. All we have to do is hit golf balls off a platform while drinking beer straight from a keg while talking about whose hotel is the best,” Diego says.
“Okay, so I hate dick-measuring contests,” I mutter.
“Is there anything in the world you do like?” he asks.
“Eating in peace,” I say, and Diego shakes his head. But I can’t help but crack a small smile. As annoyed as I get, I do enjoy spending time with him away from the office.
I’d be lying if I said all this talk about Annelise doesn’t have my mind drifting back to her now. Despite being ill-prepared for the night we spent together, she was incredible. I was a little worried that she’d duck out once she saw the place. I also wasn’t 100% sure she would show up at all. But she did show, and she showed up. She did it with dignity and beauty. And she was delicious.
I swallow hard at the memory, thankful that the table is hiding my dick’s memory of that night. I’ve never felt a pussy that tight, and that fitted me. Well, maybe not never. There was one little sexy minx about five years back during a charity gala. A girl whose name I could never remember after the fact. She was bewitching in her mask. It was mysterious and sexy and fleeting. It was amazing. Annelise definitely gave that experience a run for its money.
Focus, you idiot. Thinking about both of them at the same time will have your dick ripping clean through your slacks.
I take another bite. She’s not going anywhere. If anything, I’m going to have to be patient about taking her back there. It’snot that I’m not ready. I’ve never been so eager for anything in my life. Annelise needs to be paced. She also needs a new wardrobe. She deserves to walk around in brands worthy of touching that perfect body of hers. And she’s going to get just that.
Chapter 12
Ellie
“Ilook like a hooker,” I mutter at my own reflection as I look into the mirror at home. I’m getting dressed for work, day three, and it’s getting a little tricky to figure out what to wear. My normal dresses are too long; my new dresses are too short (according to me). My pants are unflattering (according to Damien) and the rest of my closet is better suited for play dates or movie nights at home. In other words, I have jeans, leggings, hoodies, t-shirts, and not a whole lot else.
At this point, it’s either a shiny dress that has less material than a tube top or business casual, a look I am entirely certain Damien will absolutely not go for. Since I have to drop Luca off at school on the way to work and walk him to his classroom door, I’m not about to go strolling around in option number one.
I make it to work with five minutes to spare. I spent a good portion of the morning explaining to Luca that he will not be allowed to stay home just because his pet hamster stopped eating. Considering the morning I had, I am in desperate need of coffee myself, and I use that extra five minutes to order an iced vanilla latte while I pick-up Damien’s morning order. I also snaga croissant because I didn’t have time to eat breakfast between arguments about Harold the hamster's dietary issues.
I go to my office which is drenching in morning sunshine. I can’t complain about my office. Honestly, at this point, I don’t think I can actually complain about much. The work is doable, the accommodations are amazing, the pay is unreal and my boss is…pleasant. I don’t know what other word to use right now because I’m doing my best not to think about just how pleasant he is. Was. At least not during daytime work hours. The last thing I need is to need to change my clothes, considering my lack of wardrobe options.
I leave my coffee and my other things in my office and make my way to Damien’s office, his Americano in hand. Then, I wait. Exactly three minutes later, he walks through the door, and I bite back a smile. He’s in gray slacks; a white button-down shirt and his hair is slicked back. I’m not sure how long that will last. The natural curl in his dark hair is bound to get unruly, and I doubt any hair gel can actually withstand.
“Good morning Mr. Graves,” I say as I hand him his coffee.
“Miss Bates,” he says curtly. The sharpness of his words cut a little, even if he is just saying my name. “I have a lunch meeting with Towers today, Miss Bates. That needs to be on my schedule,” he says as he walks over to his desk.
“Of course, sir. I will get that updated right away. Is there anything else, sir?” I ask.
Damien looks up at me with a sharp jaw and a slack mouth. “Yes. What the hell are you wearing?”
I swallow hard, but keep my head high. I’m in slim fitted gray slacks that cut off above my ankles, black pumps and a white, capped sleeve button down, tucked in. The heels were my Hail Mary at Damien not hating the outfit entirely.
“The only thing I had in my closet that is work appropriate, sir,” I answer.
“It’s not work appropriate. Not here. Not for your position. What did I say about pants?” he snaps.
But I’ve only had three sips of my latte, and I’m in the mood to snap back. “Well I’m sorry, but it was either this or a jogging outfit. I know you like your coffee fast, but you don’t strike me as a legging fan.”
Damien’s expression tells me he’s not in a joking mood. Shocking. “What happened to the dresses I bought you the other night?”
“The silk ones with glitter and plunging necklines? I doubt you want anyone seeing my bellybutton,” I say. “I assumed those dresses were only for the night shift.”
Damien chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. “You’re right. I’d send you back home if you showed up in one of those. So, that’s really all you have?”
“Yes, sir,” I admit.
“Well you know my expectations,” he says.
