“I did not need to. Your answer told me all I need to know.”
“I spent hours composing that list, and the art museum isn’t even on it!” I say, feeling my temperature rise, my blood heat.
Sloane shrugs.
“Precisely," he says with a grin.
“You could have told me about any venue on that list. You could have sold me the Jetta Club. The Aviator. Or the fucking Excalibur.”
“But you said not to—”
“Tell me what I wanted to hear. Yes. I know, that’s called a test, Oliver. One you passed with flying colors.” His dark gaze roves over me. “Good Boy.”
I huff out a grunt of frustration.
“But I spent all that time—”
“Sometimes, Oliver, we do not get what we want," he says sternly.
“And if I recall, youleftyour Chromebook in my car, which means you did not have thetimeto complete your work on time. Which means you took time out of this very busy day to playcatch up, and you still did not deliver me what you promised me, when I asked for it. So I improvised.”
My blood rushes with a flurry of emotion. Anger. Frustration. Shock.
“I told you it was an accident, I didn’t mean—”
“I know that," he says smoothly. “But there are still consequences, darling. And you need to learn.”
“You are an asshole,” I bite.
He chuckles.
“I never said I wasn’t.” He grins. I shake my head, my blood heating like a fire. My dick stiffens, and that only pisses me off more. The nerve of this man.
This… this is the man Robbie described to me. I was a fool to think maybe…
“Oh… don’t look so dejected, Oliver. This is what I wanted.”
“Is it?” I grunt. “Because it’s not what I wanted.”
Sloane chuckles darkly.
“Ah… there you are.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know… you learn a lot about a person when you apply pressure.”
“Oh, really?” I hiss. The anger rising inside of me feels… good.
Too good.
I’m well aware I shouldn’t be talking to mybosslike this. But he’s not stopping me or yelling at me or….
Something tells me with the way he’s looking at me, the way he’s speaking in that rough, dark tone…
Thisis what he wants.
This… this isexactlywhat he wants.
