“I… read online that you don’t usually keep an assistant very long,” I whispered.
There was gossip in forums about her and how cruel she was to her assistants. Rumor had it one was fired after a year of working for her because she spilled coffee on her desk. Another for misscheduling a lunch. Apparently, she sometimes went through multiple in a month.
It wasn’t that I thought I was incompetent. I wanted more than anything to quit my job for a nice, comfy nine-to-five, but I wouldn’t be a regular assistant, and this wasn’t a regular job.
And because of that, I might get fired faster than anyone in her history.
She let out a sigh and left the car, slamming the door behind her, leaving me to scramble after her.
She paused across the parking lot to shoot me a look, and I froze, not knowing how to react. Her gaze had my feet fused to the concrete.
If I were being honest, she was a bit scary in that moment. Being even more honest, I loved that about her too.
She stalked toward me, stopping close enough for me to feel the heat of her body. Then, a slow, sultry smirk spread across her lips.
“Forgetting something, Pearl? Or are you just that eager to please me?”
No response came to mind. I was too enraptured by the way her lips quirked, the desire in her eyes, and especially the way those words fell from her sharp tongue.
Then she moved past me back toward her car, and I heard the sound of the door opening and then closing. She let out a laugh as she passed me again, this time with my bag over her shoulder.
“Keep up, Pearl, or else you may be right about needing your steakhouse job.”
Emerson lived in a fucking penthouse. Because of course she fucking did.
It was amazing, with a beautiful nighttime view of the city that was even better than the one in her office. Tall buildings sprouted up all around us, the cars barely visible from how high up we were.
From the small tour I got, I saw that it had two floors. Most of the bedrooms were upstairs, while downstairs had the common area, a guest room,anda pool out on the balcony that overlooked the city.
It was expensive, both the place and her taste in furniture, all in black, dark green, and light gold accents.
She let me explore for a bit until I joined her in the living room, and then the price and the view became the last things on my mind. In front of me was a glass coffee table, thesignedcontract on top. Emerson sat on the other side of it, a drink in her hand, the fake fireplace running in the background and lighting up her features.
She had shed the jacket, unbuttoned even more of her white button-up, and was staring at me with heat in her eyes.
I sat on the couch across from her, shifting as the uncomfortable heat started again in my belly, only rising the longer she went without saying a word.
“Strip,” she finally commanded. “Everything.”
With a shaky breath, I stood and slowly started to peel my clothes off. She never made a move, only her gaze took in every inch of me, never wavering.
I was self-conscious. Always had been. My boobs were too small. My ass felt too flat. I had little to no curves, but Emerson was looking at me like I was the most gorgeous girl on the planet.
Just like she did at the club.
It gave me the confidence I needed to do this. I wasn’t wearing much, so I unzipped the dress I’d chosen to take to her office, leaving me in my bra and panties.
The two things don’t even match, damn it! If I’d known I’d end up here today…
“I don’t care about your underwear, Pearl. I just want it on the floor where it belongs.”
Is she a mind reader now?
I looked her in the eyes as I took off the bra and then pulled down my panties.
“Good,” she said, her voice low as she set down her glass. “Now sit back down and spread your legs for me. Let’s see if my eager little slut is already wet for me.”
Electricity zapped up my spine.
