“Um, yeah. I guess so.”
“Good. Then you’ll come to dinner with me.”
My face scrunches up in confusion. “I’m sorry. What?” I ask quickly, my brain trying to make any sense out of what he just said. I must have misheard him, right?
“Dinner, tomorrow night. I’ll need you there.”
That clarifies literally nothing.
“Is my job dependent on that, because that isn’t what I signed up for. I’m not okay with exchanging sexual favors for job security.” I bound out of my chair. First, someone gets fired on my very first day on the job, he reams out the team of people across from me, then I find out that everyone calls the bossSatan, and now he’s demanding that I go to dinner with him with who-knows-what expectations.
Absolutely not. And certainly not for anaccountingjob. Not that I would consider it for any job… but really not for mind-numbing number-crunching.
“No. Jesus. Sit down.” He looks at me in horror, his scowl deeper than I’d seen it yet. “Your job is not dependent on it, but…” He takes a moment, like he’s carefully choosing his words. “It would help me out a lot.”
My eyes widen at his admission. A part of me wants to laugh at how difficult that was for him to admit, but another part of me, the larger part of me, is still skeptical.
“Help you out how?” I ask.
He runs a hand across his jaw, scratching at the stubble coating his cheeks. A sense of… is that embarrassment?… lines his face.
“I have a meeting with a client. This client is under the impression that I have a missus in my life…”
I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but that wasn’t it. The undercurrent of silence makes the room feel small as I process this new information and what it might mean.
“Under the impression how?”
“That’s not important,” he states quickly. I can feel him taking back control of the conversation. An authoritative presence exudes from him as he straightens his back and lifts his chin. “But he wants to meet me and my lady tomorrow night for dinner to finalize the contract. So, you, Brielle, get to be that lady.”
His gaze doesn’t leave my eyes, and I find myself sucked into them, just like I was in his office the other day.
“And if I don’t want to?”
“Like I said, your job is secure,” he confirms. And I believe him. “But it’s a free meal at a nice restaurant, a reason to dress up, and it gets you out of the house to give your roommate some much-needed alone time. What’s there to say no to?”
He makes a good point.
Still, I don’t want to get myself in the same situation I was in at my last job. The last thing I need is someone thinking I went on an actual date with the boss. My boss’s boss. The big boss. It isn’t a date, but truth doesn’t matter as much as appearances do, as I am well aware. It wasn’t true last time either, not that anyone let that minor detail stop the gossip from spreading.
Then again… I could use this as an opportunity to leverage for something. Evelyn has been pestering me all week to at least ask for the day off for our Gran and Gramps’s anniversary party.
“What’s in it for me?” I ask.
“I just listed what was in it for you. Were you looking for more?” His dark eyes narrow as he eyes me with suspicion.
“Well, I think if I have to work on a Saturday—which is essentially what this dinner is, a work function—” I clarify, wanting to make no mistake that this is strictly work-related, “then I should get an extra day off.” I say with more courage than I actually possess. “A day of my choosing, even if that day is within the probationary period,” I add quickly.
That single brow raise makes another appearance as he scans me. “You wantonevacation day?”
“Yes, a veryspecificday. Four weeks from today.”
“Done,” he says without hesitation. A feeling that I could have asked for more rolls over me, but I didn’t want more. I just wanted that, and I got it.
Damian nods once and then turns to leave.
“Wait,” I stop him, not unlike the other day when I was the one trying to leave. “Tomorrow night, do we have to act like we’re together and everything?”
“Yes, Brielle.” His lip tips up, and there is no question that he is full-on smirking now. It’s a good look on him, and a thought passes through my head, wondering what a real smile would look like. “Tomorrow night, I’ll be the light of your life, and you’ll be the apple of my eye. My Valentine.”
