2. McCarthy #2
She takes my offered hand, hesitant, like she knows deep down in her bones that she needs to run.
I spin her in front of the expanse of glass that looks over the monument to my own superiority. “Do you see that?” I sweep my hand out over the blocks of glass-and-steel buildings that lead to Glacier Lake, the setting sun turning the water to liquid gold.
“Everything you see before us I own. It used to be homes, businesses, a world-renowned charitable foundation.” I turn to let my words rake across her neck. “Inspiring hope and goodness throughout the land. They had a feel-good slogan for every problem.”
I trail my fingers over her shoulders. “One day, that foundation made a bad decision—they fucked with me. And so I ground them into dust then built a megacomplex on the ashes.”
She turns around to look up at me, her brown eyes wide. Even in those ridiculous heels, she’s a head shorter than me.
“You will not break me. You will not change me. You are nothing compared to me. You’re a lower-tier worker at the third-best PR firm in the city. The corpses of your forebears are still warm in my hallways, and all of them were better men than you.”
She bristles.
I tip my head down. “It’s okay. Not everyone is a winner. So why don’t we make a deal? I’ll do what I want, you’ll ignore it, and we’ll both be rich.”
“I don’t make deals with people like you.” That stubborn set of her chin.
“I can wine and dine you, take you on nice trips, let you go shopping for fancy clothes.”
She’s not buying it.
I pivot. “Or maybe you want to buy fancy kitchen equipment?”
That makes her pulse race.
“You look like you like to bake. You can have my credit card. There’s a store on 55 th that only sells fancy French cake pans in novelty shapes.”
Her lips part.
She’s putty in my hand.
I pull out my credit card, run the cool metal over the back of her hand. “What do you say? Do you want to pretend to be a billionaire’s girlfriend for the next six weeks?”
“That’s—no!” she shouts, jumping back, then lowers her voice. “Absolutely not.” Apprehension darkens her eyes.
“I will not be your girlfriend. Ever. I will lose my job. And that is not happening, mister.”
“Well now, that’s interesting.”
She takes a step back as my eyes light up with predatory glee. “There is a ten-step plan that you need to follow…” she warbles desperately .
“No, no, no, don’t change the subject.” I can see the pulse jumping in her neck. “So,” I drawl, enjoying the feel of my prey cowering before me. “I fuck you, then you’re fired, and I never have to deal with you again? Sounds like a win win for me.”
She swallows. “Did you run out of pennies for the charm machine?”
“Hm. She has a personality after all.”
“I have a personality, mister.” She straightens. “Some of us just like to keep things professional.”
“Maybe this is a question for HR, then. Do you actually have to take my cock, or can I just put my tongue in your pussy?”
Her face is a rash of red.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out to see if her skin is as hot as it looks.
She slaps my hands away before I can touch her.
“No.” She wags a finger at me. “I can see why your brother is tired of your nonsense. You are in desperate need of a PR refresh. We’re adding sensitivity training to your ten-step plan.” She steps around me to rummage in that enormous bag.
“You’re acting like you’re some innocent, na?ve little virgin about to be wooed with false promises from her psycho billionaire boss.”
“The psycho part is accurate.” She uncaps a pen. “Let’s sign you up for the intense class.”
“I’m coming at you as an equal, to make a mutually beneficial agreement.” I pull the notebook out of her hand. “I’ll even eat you out if you go to a spa day first. I like it nice and smooth. ”
I give in, lean down to brush my lips on the flush of her skin.
“No that’s not—” She squirms.
“Do I have to walk into your supervisor’s office and tell her how you got on the floor and begged me to take you from behind or do you just have to kiss me?”
“I’m not going to kiss you.” Her voice cracks.
“I bet I could make you come like this,” I whisper.
“That’s not a flex. I’m overloaded on junk food and my circulatory system is shot I’m so stressed out.” She pulls at her clothes.
“Sounds like you really need this then.”
She clasps her hands behind her back.
“Nothing about you is worth my job.”
“Don’t pretend like you won’t come crawling, begging for it.”
Her chest rises and falls, and she blinks rapidly, her cheeks pink.
I take her left hand, the one with the big diamond on the ring finger. Run my thumb over it. “I bet it’s been a while since you two had sex.” My voice lowers, smooths.
“We have an active sex life.”
I clock the lie on her face.
“Just say the word.” I kiss her hand.
She snatches it away and wipes it on her sleeve.
“What? ‘Please’?” She pats my arm. “You’re not original, McCarthy. Also, I think you’re the one who needs to learn that word.”
Her eyes flick down and then back up.
I smirk. Blow her a kiss.
She’s screechy.
“At least I don’t have personal hygiene issues to deal with in this PR plan. You did manage to wash your boy parts this morning like a grown-up.”
I lean over her. Tilt up her chin so I can stare down at her.
“Don’t go crying to HR yet. I give it a week before you crack.”