“Alright, Jacqueline,” he says slowly.
“Jax.”
“Send over the contract. I’ll give you a trial day. If you’re not going to fulfill any of yourobligationsright now, you can leave and tell everyone outside to come back in while you’re at it. Then you need to report to my office.”
He pulls his chair toward the desk, hiding any evidence of what has just passed between us.
“Might be worth putting your clothes on before you go out there, though,” he says, and there’s a glint of amusement in his eye, but his mouth remains in a hard, unyielding line.
I bend down to pick up my skirt.
“Turn around while you do it. I want to inspect that ass again.”
I actually blush at that. No guy I’ve ever been with has ordered me around this way, and I wasn’t expecting him to do it after three minutes of meeting me.
I turn around and bend over, giving him the show he wants, and I feel satisfied when he sucks in an audible breath.
Once my clothes are back on, I look over my shoulder at him, and he gives me a nod.
Did I just ask permission to leave? What the fuck is wrong with me?
I march out the door and close it behind me, trying to look as put-together as possible. My eyes meet those of the only other woman on the exec team. The men standing around her seem pissed as hell, but most of them look me over too, as if they can’t quite help themselves.
“You can go back in now.”
That’s all I say, and then I walk away, with no clue where Jones’s office is, or what I’m meant to be doing, but by god, I am going to find out.
Chapter 8
Jax
Iwalk away from the conference room, having barely taken anything in around me, as my heart pounds like a drum.
It’s a seven-story building, and Jones’s office is on the top floor, and now, as I walk through the workspace around me, I can only gawk at the design of the place. It’s not the first corporate office I’ve ever set foot in, but it’s definitely the fanciest.
There are twisting, colored pipes that drop from the ceiling at intervals, morphing into painted patterns on the walls and then merging into the carpet to form pathways across the floor. Their skittering lines act as trails around each section, and everything is color-coded. I have no idea which color pertains to what, but it’s impressive.
All the monitors are curved, glowing pale blue and white as I walk by. No one here looks like they work for a chain of nightclubs, though.
Everyone’s polished and pressed, and a lot of the men are in expensive-looking suits, as if they all model themselves on looking like their boss. I’m not complaining. I love a tailored look myself and always wear something similar at the club, either a corset or a vest, depending on my mood.
As I get back to the elevators, the carpet runs out, and I walk across a polished marble hallway that looks more like a fitness studio than a lobby. The black-and-white reception desk has semicircular tiles along the front, like dozens of eyes watching me.
I walk confidently up to the desk, meeting the gaze of a young guy with platinum-blonde hair and a septum piercing. His afro is cropped tight to his head and he flashes me a bright smile.
“Hey there,” he says, “did I just call security on you? Some psycho crashed a board meeting wearing a leather jacket.”
I hesitate, unsure if I should admit the truth, fearful that he’ll just get the security guards back.
“I needed a job, so I decided to demand one,” I say, putting both hands on the top of the desk. “The gamble paid off because I’m hired.”
“Holy shit, really?” he asks, chuckling low in his throat. “Oh my god, that’s brilliant. Well, you’ll need a pass for the building, then, but I can only authorize that when I get your contract from HR.”
“Where’s HR? I’ll go there now. Also, where’s Gray Jones’s office?”
He stops moving, turning to look at me more closely. Then his smile grows even wider.
“Wait, are you the new EA he’s been looking to hire? That’s awesome. The last woman who worked for him was a total snob and wouldn’t speak to me except through email. I have a feeling you and I are going to get along great.”
