The first one to get over that little gender-bender trick stands up from his chair. In a boyish kind of way, he’s charming. Slender and tall, he’s wearing a plaid shirt and seems to be in his late twenties, with ginger hair, light brown eyes, and freckles dusting his pale skin.
He comes to me with a few long strides and extends his hand. “Welcome to Kelex, Andy. We’re thrilled to have you here with us.”
I shake his hand, returning his genuine smile. “Thank you. I’m delighted to be here.”
“I’ll let the boss know you’ve arrived,” he offers, returning to his desk and quickly typing something.
The next one who speaks, the only one who looks over forty, is a hefty man with an impressive beard, brown hair tied in a ponytail, and thick-rimmed glasses. “Damn, I made a bet that you’d have a beard.”
“I have one, but you’ll never see it,” I joke.
The instant the words leave my lips, I regret them and freeze from head to toe. When heat creeps up my face, I know I’m crimson. I need to be gagged. Right fucking now.
They all stare at me, as shocked as I am, and no one speaks for what seems to be minutes but is probably five seconds. Next to me, Dakota does her best to hold back her laughter.
A blond guy raises his hands to ask his colleagues a question in sign language—which I’m familiar with. “I didn’t get that. What did she say?”
“She told him he’d never see her ‘beard,’” someone signs back.
I’ve never wished for the ground to open up and swallow me as hard as I do at this moment. Was my awful joke really worth repeating?
Utterly shocked, the guy who asked stares at me. Dakota can’t hold back anymore, and she explodes in a fit of laughter. That seems to trigger the others, and soon enough, I’m waiting for them to calm down.
When she regains control of her breathing, Dakota carefully wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “Yeah, you’ll do great. They constantly make dick jokes around each other, so it’s about time someone introduced them to vagina ones.”
“We weren’t prepared,” the ginger says. “Consider us warned from now on.” The others nod, confirming his statement.
The glass door opens, distracting the room from the shitshow that is me. Everyone’s focus shifts to the newcomer, so I also turn around. When I see the man standing in the doorway, my breath catches in my throat.
Holy Mother of God…
So, he works here after all.
Chapter 02
Istare at the man standing by the door, my brain malfunctioning so hard I can’t even think of closing my gaping mouth.
It’s the elevator guy! He’s right there, still dashing, all tall and sexy. He doesn’t notice me right away, so I use this opportunity to observe his features.
His face was either engineered in a lab, or he won the genetic lottery over everyone else. He has a sharp jaw covered with three-day-old stubble. His short, dark hair is a little messy—as if he only ran his fingers through it this morning. Thick eyebrows rest under a flat forehead, and underneath them, two narrow eyes. Then, the bridge of a straight, perfectly balanced nose, and lower, a pair of lavish lips, a shade darker than his skin, with a touch of pink.
His sharp gaze quickly scans the room, and I avert mine when it reaches me, embarrassed to have been caught staring. Thank God I’m not drooling, but close call.
“Oliver, you told me Andy arrived?”
Oh, wow. Oh, shit. This is the boss.Heis the boss. The guy I lusted after in the elevator is my new boss. That has to be the worst way to start a new job.
Dakota smiles. “Yes,shehas.”
He processes her words, and something lights up in his eyes when he understands. Next thing I know, his attention is back on me, studying me in an entirely new light. Under his authoritative stare, I regret hiding my gender from the company. But I know how hard it can be for women to get into such positions, so it’s only normal that I made sure the odds would be in my favor.
Now that they know the truth, they can’t fire me for not having Y chromosomes. Not without risking the mother of all lawsuits.
When he’s done examining me, I embarrassingly wave with a faint, “Hi.”
“You’re not an Andrew,” he stoically states.
I bite the inside of my cheek at his icy tone, suppressing my urge to lecture him about manners. “No, I’m an Andrea.”
