CHAPTER ELEVEN
EMILY
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H e’s engaged? Sebastian is engaged?!
How dare he!
No wonder he doesn’t want me to work for him after how we met. I bet he hoped never to see me again. I’m starting to think that asking for my phone number was completely rubbish.
God, I’m such a bloody idiot.
No...he’s an asshole.
I’m surprised his fiancée hasn’t shown up at the office to meet his new PA. Or maybe she’s only marrying him for his money and status.
And nice cock.
I’ve been in the job for one week now and am becoming aware just how vast Sebastian Remington’s power and influence are.
The more I learned, the more I wondered what the hell he was doing inviting me, a girl from London, into the bathroom. Now I learn he’s getting married.
Ugh, what a dick.
One task I do each day is to compile all the reports his senior team sends in and share in one document with a summary. So, I’m becoming quite familiar with the Crown Plaza development and all the challenges.
Namely, protesters who are against it.
And of course, the sheikh who has pulled his funding. I assume that’s why he’s been invited to next week’s event—which never existed until this week. I’ve heard the marketing girls complaining Sebastian is asking them to pull magic out of their asses.
But they’re doing it.
It’s the protests that are interesting to me. They don’t like how much green space is being taken away, and that children in the neighborhood won’t have somewhere close to play. Parents will have to travel farther to reach a park in the small amount of time they have off.
They’re calling it a big, ugly development that will destroy the current family culture of the area. That the multiple bars and restaurants planned will attract undesirable people and behaviors.
Their complaints seem reasonable to me.
Doesn’t Sebastian care?
Surely he has some responsibility as a developer to consider the impacts on people who live in the areas he builds in...then again, a man who cheats on his fiancée is hardly a man of ethics.
Since making it clear that I know, Sebastian has mostly steered clear of me the past two days. I’m glad.
Tonight, I’m heading out for Friday drinks with Terri and Donna from reception. Who I won’t be sharing any details with.
Mental note: zip your lips.
However, last night, Lexi and I FaceTimed and I told her everything.
“What...what? The guy from the plane is your boss. He’s engaged. Jesus F Christ.” Lexi gasped. “Start at the top.”
I propped the phone on my knee, drew in a breath and blew it out, then did exactly that.
“Lexi, you should have seen my face. And seen his! I walk into my boss’s office on day one, and there he was. The damn CEO. Sebastian. Not Bastian.” I told her dramatically. “When the HR manager left, he starts freaking out and tells me I can’t work for him. As if the entire thing is my fault.”
“I mean, I’m sure it’s uncomfortable. But what about his fiancée? He took your number.”
Yeah, that ship had sailed.
“I’m just trying to keep my job. He’s making it very difficult, but I refuse to let this send me packing and proving my father right.”
“God no.”
“He made up some new dress code for the office because he thought my blouse was too revealing!”
Silence.
“Was it?” Lexi asks.
“No! It was a normal blouse. The buttons were done up. His creepy eyes were trying to get an eyeful. That’s not my fault.”
She’s quiet again.
“I think he likes you, Em.”
Pfft.
“Clearly. He let me suck his cock,” I muttered. “But I’m sure he likes his fiancée, too. Creep. Dick.”
“Asshole.”
That was why I needed my best friend. To crap talk about Sebastian and feel better about myself.
“It’s pretty clear I need to find a new job and fast. Can you imagine what my dad would say if he knew about this?”
Lexi chuckles. “Sorry, but the thought of him finding out that you sucked a guy off in first class who ends up being your boss is a little bit funny.”
Horrified, I’d gasped, but we both ended up cackling like idiots.
We have unfinished business.
Sebastian’s words come back to me now and I wonder why he would have said them, knowing he had a woman waiting for him at home. Why marry her if he wasn’t fulfilled?
The million-dollar question victims of infidelity have asked forever, I guess.
The worst part is, I’m still stupidly attracted to Sebastian.
Clearly he’s the most horrible person on the planet, but when he strides past pulling on his expensive jacket, my eyes snap to his tight ass.
And it’s impossible to ignore the way his perfectly pressed shirts hug his thick biceps and stretch across his broad chest.
More than once, I’ve wondered what he looks like naked and then shoved chocolate in my mouth to distract my obsession with his body.
Only his body.
Clearly not his personality or morals.
“Emily!” Sebastian calls out from his office, snapping me back to reality.
I stand up, brush my hands down my skirt and walk the dozen or so steps to his doorway.
Without urgency.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, barely glancing his way. It’s a waste of effort because he’s not even looking at me.
“I don’t have the report from finance. It’s already eleven o’clock.”
I frown. “I sent it.”
I meticulously do these each day and know that I put in Victor Sanderson’s information. Organization is my strength, and I have a high attention to detail.
“There was only one page today. Perhaps you skimmed past it.”
Sebastian finally looks my way, and his eyes run down my body. I fight the shiver and hope like hell that my nipples, which are now hard, don’t show through the dress I’m wearing.
I purchased it on Wednesday night because it has a round neckline which covers my entire cleavage and meets the so-called new dress code.
It’s a boring black—not sexy—standard corporate shift dress.
It even finishes just on my knees.
When Sebastian finishes his assessment of my outfit, there’s fire in his eyes which has me gripping the doorjamb. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and pushes his chair back.
What is happening?
“Close the door,” he demands, standing and walking around the desk.
I turn, pulling the door behind me and racing to my desk.
A second later, it’s ripped open.
“Emily! I meant with you inside it,” he yells, standing there like an action hero ready to kill someone.
Probably me.
Oh. Shit.
I blink and freeze.
“Jesus.” Sebastian rubs his forehead. “Emily, please come into my office. We need to speak.”
Here we go.
He’s going to fire me.
I walk back over and follow him inside, where he stands with his back to me and head bowed.
“Sebastian, I’m sorry. I can highlight the finance report next time, so it’s easier to find. If this is about my work clothes, I bought this dress because it’s the least revealing thing I could find...except a paper bag.”
He spins, just a few feet away from me, and glowers. “It wouldn’t matter, Emily. I still want to fuck you.”
My mouth falls open.
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SEBASTIAN
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T hat was not what I meant to say.
But it was what you were thinking.
It’s what I’ve been thinking all week, and while I’ve tried to ignore my attraction to Emily, it won’t go away.
I even attempted to go on a date last night, but ended up canceling an hour before I was due to pick Marissa up.
She’d be perfect as a faux fiancée. Her family knows my family, and we have been seen out in society together a few times .
She has no dating history that would raise questions, and it would be celebrated if the media picked up on it.
Her father is pressuring her to get engaged, so there’s a chance she might go along with it.
Except I couldn’t do it.
We slept together about four years ago and, beyond the enjoyable, slightly kinky sex, I lost interest.
Marissa felt different.
I wouldn’t call it love, but she wanted a relationship—or perhaps just the status of being in relationship with me.
Whatever it was, I wordlessly backed away, letting her know there was nothing else on offer.
Marissa quickly got the message, and we’ve remained on good terms, seeing one another at events from time to time.
Asking her to step up for me would require some kind of compensation. Likely my cock. That isn’t something I’m willing to do.
Not anymore.
Something has changed, and that something is Emily.
The more I try to ignore her, failing as I watch her dart about the office and chatting to colleagues in her sexy Brit accent, the more I want her.
Or is it that I want more of her?
I adjust the Rolex on my wrist to buy some time as my thoughts turn dirty.
I’m not sorry. They are some of the filthiest desires I’ve had.
Christ, I want to rip her dress right down the middle and squeeze her breast while I bite her nipple.
Then sweep the crap off my desk and demand she spread herself open for me.
Then finally I can lap her pussy, tasting her naughty PA cunt.
But sinking my cock inside Emily is all I can think about. In one swell thrust. I can already imagine her sweet lips parting as she gasped for oxygen because I fill her so fucking well.
I will.
I know how tight she is.
Alas, today that can’t happen.
Now Emily is staring at me, grappling with my inappropriate declaration.
It wouldn’t matter; I still want to fuck you.
I can’t take my words back, and don’t know if I want to.
“You... I’m confused.” She finally gets out.
So am I. She’s not my type, and I have no idea why I want to make her my personal little sex slave instead of my assistant.
It can be both.
No. It. Can’t.
She’s too young, and I need her to do her job. While I focus on the Crown Plaza development, instead of her cleavage. And yet, when I’m not looking at it, I’m thinking about it.
I can’t fuck her.
I can’t ignore our chemistry.
And I don’t want to fire her.
So, I need to find her another position. Maybe then I can finally fuck her. However, another idea is percolating that is absolutely crazy. One I should shut down immediately, and yet I already know I won’t.
Not at all.