Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
marlowe
H umming along to mozart’s piano concerto No. 24, I push the vacuum cleaner across the billiard room floor. Just as the concerto floats into the third movement, my phone buzzes through my earbuds.
I turn off the vacuum and reach inside my apron pocket to dig the phone out. I tense when I see my sister’s face on the screen. We haven’t talked in a while because she’s been slammed at work, giving me a welcome reprieve from having to tell her about my new job.
Although I’m making ridiculously good money, I didn’t bust my ass for five years to earn a degree, only to end up working as a housekeeper. I’m not ready to break the news to Ember, but I’ve never been very good at lying to her. If I take her call, I’ll end up confessing everything and then she’ll try to talk me into moving back home. Which is so not happening.
I stare at my phone, fully intending to decline the call. But my brain misfires and I hit accept instead.
“Hey, you.” Ember’s warm smile fills the screen. She takes after our mother with dirty blond hair, sea green eyes and enviably high cheekbones.
“Hey, counselor,” I say, trying to sound normal. “Finally came up for air?”
“Just for lunch. Mom insisted.”
My stomach tightens. “Mom?”
“Yeah. She’s meeting me at the restaurant—wouldn’t take no for an answer. Anyway, I know you get off early on Fridays, so I thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.” Ember looks past my shoulder, curiosity brightening her eyes. “Where are you?”
“Just, um, visiting a friend.”
“Must be a rich friend, judging by the fancy décor.” Ember leans closer to the screen, peering at the wall behind me. “Is that a Jackson Pollock?”
“I don’t think so,” I lie, bringing my phone closer to block her view of the expensive painting.
She frowns at me. “Why are you acting so jumpy?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. You seem nervous. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. You just caught me at a bad?—”
“Mom’s here now.” Ember sends me a silent apology with her eyes. “She wants to say hello.”
“What? No, wait, I have to?—”
Caroline Somerset’s face appears on the screen before I can bail. “Hello, darling.”
“Hey, Mom.” I try to smile, but my jaw is stiff. “How are you? How’s work?”
“Busy as ever, which means business is good.” She studies me, her eyes narrowed in appraisal. “Have you gained weight? Your face looks rounder.”
The thinly veiled criticism tightens the knot in my stomach. “I’m doing well, Mother,” I say sarcastically. “Thank you for asking.”
“Seriously,” my sister grumbles offscreen. “Knock it off.”
“I just asked a simple question,” Mom huffs. “We all know Marlowe’s weight tends to fluctuate. She gained the dreaded freshman 15 in college?—”
“I gained weight, too,” Ember reminds her. “You’ve never given me grief about it.”
“Because you lost every single pound. Marlowe kept a few.” Mom gives me a placating smile. “You’re starting grad school next month and I want to send you some nice designer outfits. Why don’t you pan the camera down so I can make sure you’re still the same size?”
I roll my eyes but comply out of habit. I immediately realize my mistake when Mom gasps sharply.
“What on earth are you wearing?” she shrills. “Is that a maid’s uniform?”
Shit!
I bring the phone back up to my face, but it’s too late and now my mother and sister are gawking at me.
“Why are you dressed like a maid?” Mom demands.
I bite my lip, then let out a resigned breath. “I have a new job.”
“What?” Ember exclaims in surprise. “What happened to your job at?—”
“I got laid off.”
“Already?” Mom cries. “It hasn’t even been two months!”
“I’m aware of that.”
She gives me an accusing look. “What did you do?”
“Oh, my God, Mom,” Ember says in exasperation. “Can you not?”
Mom takes a big swig of her cocktail as if to calm her nerves. My mere existence tends to stress her out.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I tell her in a tight voice. “They had to make budget cuts. I’m not the only employee who was let go.”
“I’m really sorry, Mar.” Ember’s gentle sympathy comes through the phone like a comforting hug. “I know how much you enjoyed working there.”
“And now you’re back to scrubbing toilets and changing dirty linens.” Mom raises her glass to me in a mock toast. “So much for putting your degree to good use.”
I’m such a disappointment to her. Always have been. I can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. I’ve just learned to live with it.
She sighs, shaking her head at me. “So who are you working for now? Another hotel?”
“No,” I mumble. “I’m a live-in housekeeper.”
Mom and Ember exchange looks before asking, “Who’s your employer?”
“Um . . .” I glance over my shoulder to see if anyone is coming. Satisfied that the coast is clear, I cross the room to open one of the French doors leading out to the terrace.
“So mysterious,” Ember teases. “The suspense is killing me.”
“Indeed,” Mom agrees. “Who are you working for, Marlowe? The governor himself?”
“No.” I walk toward the balustrade overlooking the enormous backyard and glistening lake. “He’s a businessman.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Mom says impatiently. “Stop being coy and tell us his name.”
“It’s Gunner.” I pause. “Gunner Ransom.”
Mom and Ember gasp loudly, their eyes widening in shock. “The tech CEO?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Of course we’ve heard of him!” Mom exclaims. “He only happens to be one of the richest men in the country! He’s worth billions and he’s constantly featured in Forbes , GQ, Money , you name it. Honestly, you’d have to be living under a rock not to know who he is!”
“ I didn’t know who he was,” I admit with a shrug. “But I figured that was because I’m not from Texas, and I don’t move in business circles like you guys do. If he was a famous artist, that would’ve been a different story.”
“Silly girl,” Mom chides, but there’s no scorn in her voice. In fact, she’s staring at me with pure, unadulterated delight—something I’m not used to. “How did you land a job as Gunner Ransom’s housekeeper? More important, how much is he paying you?”
I hesitate, chewing my bottom lip. “Two hundred thousand.”
Mom and Ember’s stunned faces almost make me laugh.
“ Two hundred thousand dollars? ” Ember squeals.
I can’t help grinning. “Crazy, right?”
“Good heavens,” Mom bursts out incredulously. “You’re making more than your sister makes with a law degree!”
“Seriously.” Ember is grinning wide. “Maybe I need to quit my thankless job and move down to Texas to become a housekeeper.”
“Or to catch a rich husband.” There’s a calculating gleam in Mom’s eyes. “Marlowe can work her charms on Gunner, and you can do the same with his brother.”
Ember and I groan in disgust. “Don’t even?—”
“Marlowe?” a stern voice calls from inside the house.
Shit!
“I have to go.” I rush off the phone and hurry back inside just as Mrs. Calder turns to leave the billiard room. “Did you need me?”
She turns around. “Oh, there you are. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”
I blush at being caught slacking on the job. “Just getting some fresh air. Sorry.”
“Don’t be, dear girl. You’re allowed breaks.” Mrs. Calder has a leather garment bag folded over her arm. “Mr. Ransom is having dinner with some important investors this evening. He asked that you bring him a fresh change of clothes.”
“Right now?”
“Of course.” She walks over to hand me the garment bag. “Take the Range Rover. The company’s address is already programmed into the GPS.”
“Um. Okay.” I glance down at my gray uniform. It’s double-breasted with a fitted waist, an A-line skirt, and a white collar and cuffs. Without the apron, it could almost pass for a stylish dress.
Still, I’d feel pretty weird showing up to Gunner’s office in a maid’s uniform. “Should I change?”
“I’d rather you didn’t. The longer you wait, the worse traffic gets.”
“Especially on a Friday.”
“Precisely.” When I don’t move right away, Mrs. Calder briskly claps her hands. “Chop, chop, off you go.”
I almost curtsy. “Yes, ma’am.”
pantheon global solutions is headquartered in a glistening skyscraper overlooking West Second Street. The impressively sleek building has forty floors of office space, two five-star restaurants, a bar and cigar lounge, and a spa and fitness center.
Following Mrs. Calder’s instructions, I park at the private entrance in the back. A security guard is waiting to escort me up to the top floor, which houses the company’s C-suite offices.
Emerging from the elevator, I step through double glass doors opening onto a glossy reception area. The huge circular desk is manned by two receptionists wearing headsets and beauty pageant smiles.
They look me over as I approach, taking in my gray dress and white sneakers before chorusing, “May I help you?”
Before I can respond, a striking redhead materializes to intercept me. “You must be Marlowe,” she says smoothly, shaking my hand. “I’m Veronica, Mr. Ransom’s executive assistant. He told me he was expecting you.”
“Yes, I brought him a fresh suit and shirt.”
The assistant’s perfect eyebrows furrow in confusion. “A suit?”
“Yes. For him to wear tonight.” I hand over the garment bag I’m holding.
Veronica gives it a puzzled look before her professional mask slides back into place. “Thanks for dropping this off. I’m sure Mr. Ransom will appreciate it.”
“No problem. Just doing my job.” I smile, preparing to leave. “It was nice meeting?—”
“He asked you to wait in his office.”
“What?”
“He’s in a meeting, but he requested that you wait for him.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting to see him, and I’m not sure I want to. But it doesn’t sound like I have a choice in the matter.
“He shouldn’t be too long. Right this way, please.” Veronica escorts me past the reception desk and through a set of imposing glass doors. We head down a long corridor that forks off in two directions, both leading to corner suites.
“That’s the COO’s office.” Veronica points to the right before steering me left, through an anteroom. “And this is the CEO’s.”
My jaw drops when we walk through the double doors. The office is gargantuan, all pristine glass and sleek chrome. One entire glass wall frames a commanding view of downtown Austin. Another wall showcases an impressive collection of abstract paintings.
Veronica strides forward, her shapely calves flexing with each step. I watch as she opens a closet door to hang up Gunner’s suit . . . next to several other suits.
Wait a damn minute.
“He already has?—”
“Yes, he always keeps a change of clothes here for emergencies, and for the days he works out during lunch.” Veronica shuts the closet door and turns. “Maybe he wanted a different colored suit.”
“Maybe,” I mutter, but I’m not buying it.
Veronica studies me with undisguised curiosity. “How long have you worked for Mr. Ransom?”
“I just started this week.”
She nods.
“What about you?” I ask.
“Three and a half years. He hired me right out of grad school.” Veronica smiles. “He can be pretty tough and demanding, and sometimes his people skills need a little work. But his brilliance is undeniable. I’ve learned a lot from him, and he never forgets birthdays and anniversaries.”
This bit of information pleases me more than I care to admit. “I’m glad you’ve had such a positive experience working for him.”
“Me, too. I can honestly say he’s the best boss I’ve ever had.” Veronica smiles again. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Um, no thanks. I’m good.”
She gestures toward the seating area. “Make yourself comfortable.”
After she departs, I walk slowly around Gunner’s inner sanctum, admiring the high-end furnishings and expensive modern art. I don’t even want to speculate on how much money was spent decorating this office.
After taking in the view for a few minutes, I turn from the window and wander over to the humongous desk. I wish I could say that Gunner is overcompensating, but based on the substantial bulge I felt in his pants that night, the man has nothing to compensate for.
The desk is covered with files and papers. There are no photographs or personal mementoes. No squishy stress balls, logo-laden mugs or other tchotchkes. It’s the desk of a ruthlessly disciplined man who works slavishly hard, almost to the exclusion of everything else.
When I googled him—which I finally did—I was impressed to learn that he developed and patented an anti-spyware app while in grad school at UT. The innovative software product attracted a slew of investors who gave him the funds to launch his startup. Now, at age thirty, he reigns over a tech empire with offices in more than forty countries around the world.
As if that weren’t impressive enough, he also owns a hydrogen energy company, luxury hotels in France and Switzerland. And, of course, the club he took me to the night we met.
I trail my fingertip along the edge of his desk, eyeing the high-backed executive chair. It looks like a throne, so big and commanding that I’m tempted to sit in it.
Biting my lip, I look over my shoulder to see if Gunner is coming. Not seeing or hearing anything, I round the desk and lower myself into the large chair, sighing as my body sinks into the plush black leather. It feels heavenly, and I can smell the faintest trace of Gunner’s cologne beneath the rich material.
Greedy for more, I twist around in the seat and sniff the headrest like a bloodhound following a scent trail. While cleaning Gunner’s bedroom yesterday, I took a picture of his cologne bottle—some European luxury brand I’d never heard of before. I sprayed a little on my wrist so I could indulge my secret addiction for the rest of the day. I also took several deep whiffs of his shampoo and body wash.
Creepy? Yes. Pathetic? Abso-freaking-lutely.
My phone’s musical ringtone goes off. I fumble it out of my purse and stare at the screen. Not recognizing the number, I answer tentatively, “Hello?”
“Marlowe? This is Dawson.”
“Dawson?” I can’t hide my surprise. I thought I’d never hear from him again.
He chuckles. “Don’t tell me you forgot me already.”
“Of course not.” I smile. “How are you?”
“Good, good. Keeping busy, working hard. Speaking of which,” he says excitedly, “I hear you got a new job working for Pantheon’s CEO.”
“Uh, yeah. I’m his housekeeper.”
“Cool, cool. Gotta start somewhere, right?”
Is that a dig?
“So what’s the bossman like?”
“He’s . . .” Impossibly beautiful. Infuriatingly cocky. Bone-meltingly sexy . “He’s fine. I hardly ever see him.”
“No shit. The guy didn’t get filthy rich by sitting around on his hands all day.” Dawson sounds almost infatuated. “So, listen, Barbara told my mom what happened the night of our date. I’ll admit I was pretty annoyed that you left with some other guy. But it was partially my fault for not calling sooner to tell you I was running late. I’d still really like to meet you, if you’re game.”
“I am,” I say with more enthusiasm than I feel.
“Great,” he replies, sounding pleased. “I’m going out of town this weekend. Are you free next Saturday?”
“Next Saturday?” I hedge.
“Yeah. I thought we could go out to dinner.”
My smile feels forced. “Sure. We could do that.”
“Awesome.” He chuckles. “I’ll pick you up this time so there won’t be any mixups.”
I blush. “That’s probably a good idea.”
He chuckles again. “I’m meeting with a client so I gotta run. Text me your address when you get a chance.”
“Will do. See you next Saturday,” I say just as I hear Gunner’s growly voice approaching.
Panicking, I grab my purse and jump to my feet. But he’s already striding through the door, yanking his tie loose as he barks into his Bluetooth headset.
Catching sight of me behind his desk, he slows his steps. My heart pounds into my throat as I stare back at him.
Today he’s wearing a light blue shirt beneath a hand-tailored gray suit that’s obviously very expensive. He looks grumpy, a little scary and a whole lot sexy.
Without taking his eyes off me, he ends his call with a curt “Just get it done.” Then he pulls off the headset, tosses it onto the desk and plows a hand through his gorgeous hair.
I lift an eyebrow at him. “Bad day?”
He scowls. “Been in one fucking meeting after another.”
“Oh.” I watch as he shrugs out of his jacket and comes around the desk to drape the garment over the back of his chair. His tailored shirt clings to his massive chest, and I can tell he’s seriously ripped.
I swallow hard. “Um, I’ll just get out of your?—”
“No. Stay.” He puts his hand on my shoulder, the heat from his fingers burning through my uniform like a hot brand. “Sit. Please.”
I sink back down in the chair, curling my fingers around the padded arms.
He perches a hip on the edge of the desk, the expensive wool of his pants pulling taut across his muscular thighs.
I have to forcibly drag my gaze away. My cheeks have grown embarrassingly warm, and other parts of me as well.
He slowly looks me over, taking in the way my uniform hugs my body. The dress isn’t too short, but I keep my knees pressed together so he can’t see anything I don’t want him to see.
“So what were you doing at my desk?” he murmurs. “Snooping?”
“No! Of course not! I was just?—”
“Relax. I’m only teasing you.” His eyes glitter at me. “I like seeing you in my chair.”
“You do?”
He nods. “You look right at home.”
I grin, leaning back. “It’s a fabulous chair. Super comfortable, excellent back support. An ergonomic dream.”
His lips quirk. “Ergonomic dream?”
“Yeah. Where’d you get it?”
“Had it custom made. I can order one for your room if you want,” he offers. “Can’t have you studying and doing your schoolwork in an uncomfortable chair.”
“Oh, my desk chair is perfect. Seriously. I don’t need a new one. But thanks for—” I break off when I realize that he’s laughing at me. I watch him for a few moments, feeling my lips twitch. “What’s so funny?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe we just had an entire conversation about office chairs.”
I grin. “ You started it.”
“Indeed.” He grins and folds his arms in front of him, his biceps straining against his shirtsleeves. “That reminds me, if there’s anything you ever need or want for the house, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Really? Anything?”
“Anything.” His grin stretches with a hint of sexual teasing. “Within reason.”
“Yes, Mr. Ransom,” I simper.
He winks at me.
We’re flirting, and God help me, I’m enjoying every delicious moment.
“Mr. Ransom?” his assistant’s voice crackles over the intercom on his desk. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Kemp called to ask if he could bring a guest to dinner tonight.”
“That’s fine, Veronica.” The muscles in Gunner’s thighs flex as he hooks his foot under the desk chair and drags me closer. My body heats up as I stare into his hooded eyes.
“Call the restaurant to update the reservation,” he instructs his assistant.
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
Gunner gazes at me as the intercom goes silent.
Swallowing thickly, I lower my eyes to his Brioni loafers. “You have big feet.”
“Think so?”
“It’s not debatable. They’re huge. What’s your shoe size?”
“Fourteen.”
“Wow.” A strange knot of need tightens in my stomach. When I look up at Gunner, there’s a thoroughly wicked gleam in his eyes.
“And now you’re wondering if the old saying is true,” he taunts.
“No, I’m not.” I don’t have to wonder. I already know. “Anyway, why’d you ask me to bring you a change of clothes?” I demand, gesturing toward the closet. “You already have a bunch of suits to pick from.”
A slow, shameless grin spreads across his face. “Busted.”
“What the hell?” I sputter irately. “I wasn’t done cleaning, and now I’m gonna have to deal with rush hour traffic on the way home.”
“You don’t have to hurry back. I’m giving you the rest of the day off.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Laughter dances in those stunning blue eyes.
Still somewhat irritated, I wave my hand at him. “Do you always wear suits to work?”
He glances down at himself, his brow furrowing. “What’s wrong with that?”
“For starters, haven’t you ever heard of Casual Fridays?”
“I—”
“You’re a tech CEO. You’re supposed to wear nothing but jeans and hoodies to show everyone how cool and hip you are.”
His mouth twitches with amusement. “I travel extensively to conduct business with foreign executives who don’t observe casual dress codes. Plus my father always wore suits to the office, and I guess it left an indelible impression on me.”
I can’t help smiling at his words. “It was the same with my mother. Power suits and heels. Every day, no exceptions.”
“Yeah?” Gunner’s eyes glow with keen interest. “She’s a partner at a big law firm, right?”
I nod.
“What did she think of you moving away from home?”
I hesitate. “She thought I was making a mistake. But that’s nothing new.”
“What do you mean?”
My lips twist sardonically. “Let’s just say she doesn’t have the greatest confidence in my decision-making abilities.”
Gunner’s eyes probe mine. “Is that why you’re not close?”
“It’s one of the reasons.”
He looks like he wants to hear more, but I’m done sharing.
“I’d better get going.” I push to my feet, hooking my purse strap over my shoulder. “Have a good time at dinner tonight.”
He gives a slow nod, his gaze trained on my lips.
When I try to move past him, he captures my wrist. I shiver at his touch, our eyes meeting and holding.
“Who was on the phone?” he asks casually.
I blink at him. “What?”
“You were just getting off the phone when I came in.”
“You saw that?”
“I see everything.”
Those three words send tingles up and down my spine. “I was talking to Dawson.”
Gunner’s eyes narrow. “Who’s Dawson?”
“The guy I was supposed to meet that night.” I smirk. “The guy you impersonated.”
“Ah.” He doesn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed. “What’d he want?”
I pull my wrist free. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“Tell me anyway.”
The nerve of this man!
“If you must know, he asked me out on a date. You know, since our first date was sabotaged by someone who shall remain nameless.”
Gunner chuckles, still totally unashamed. “What’d he say when you turned him down?”
I narrow my eyes. “What makes you think I turned him down?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No. I didn’t.”
Gunner shakes his head, a slight glimmer in his eyes. “You’re not interested in Dawson.”
I lift my chin. “How do you know who I’m interested in?”
“I’ve got good instincts about these things.”
“Your instincts are wrong,” I retort.
“Are they?” He rises slowly to his feet, looming over me.
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. His gaze follows the movement, sending heat through my veins.
“When’s your date?” he asks softly.
“Next Saturday.”
“Hmm.” He reaches out and touches my chin, the barest brush of fingertips. “I’m afraid you won’t be available next Saturday.”
I frown, feeling disoriented. “Why not?”
“I’m having a dinner party that night, and your services will be needed.”
“But I’m off on Saturdays,” I protest.
He raises an eyebrow. “What part of ‘performing other duties as required’ did you not understand during your interview?”
Hot anger flares inside me. “Why is this the first time I’m hearing about your dinner party? Mrs. Calder hasn’t said a word.”
He shrugs. “It must have slipped her mind.”
I don’t believe him. Not for a damn second.
“Looks like you’ll have to reschedule your date with David,” he drawls.
“Dawson,” I snap.
“Right. Dawson.” Lips twitching, the big jerk brushes past me to sit in his chair, leaning back with his fingers steepled in front of his face as he contemplates me. “What took him so long to get in touch with you?”
“What?” I’m distracted by the way he looks behind his desk, brimming with masculine power and authority.
“Your date was two weeks ago,” he says calmly. “Why did he wait this long to reschedule?”
“What difference does it make?” I snap.
“I’m just curious. Aren’t you?”
I let out a huff of exasperation. “Maybe he’s been busy. Or maybe he was pissed because I left the bar that night with another man. Can you blame him?”
Gunner gives me a long, speculative look. “Does he know you work for me?”
I frown. “Why?”
“Does he?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.”
I glare at him. “Are you suggesting that’s the reason he called me? Because I work for a famous tech billionaire, and he wants to use me to curry favor with you?”
Gunner’s eyes gleam. “Sounds like you’ve already drawn your own conclusions about Romeo.”
I hate him for reading me like an open book.
“I’m done with this conversation.” I pivot and march toward the door.
“Don’t waste your time with that guy,” he calls after me. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
I flip him off, not caring that he’s my boss.
His dark, sexy laughter follows me out the door.
my sister calls me that evening as I’m stuffing clothes into an overnight bag.
I’m spending the weekend at my old apartment with Quinn and Sansa. After the maddening encounter with Gunner, I don’t trust myself not to sneak into his bedroom tonight and strangle him in his sleep.
When I answer the phone, Ember whispers excitedly in my ear, “Oh, my God! I’m still in shock over the bombshell you dropped earlier! I’ve been dying to call you back to get all the deets!”
I frown. “Why are you whisper-shouting? Where are you?”
“In the bathroom at work.”
“It’s almost nine o’clock there. You’re still at the office?”
“I’m an overworked first-year associate. Where else would I be but at the office?” The trace of bitterness in her voice makes me wonder, not for the first time, if she loves being a lawyer as much as she claims.
“Mom couldn’t stop talking about your new boss. Has she called you?”
“Yes. Twice.”
“You didn’t pick up?”
“What do you think?” Hearing the sound of a toilet flushing, I wrinkle my nose. “Are you doing number one or two?”
Ember snickers. “Relax. I just had to pee and change my tampon. Anyway, I can’t believe you work for an actual billionaire!”
“Don’t get too excited,” I say darkly. “It’s overrated.”
“Are you crazy? How can working for Gunner Ransom be overrated?”
“You’d be surprised,” I grumble.
“What do you mean? Is he an asshole?”
I toss another shirt in my bag. “Let’s just say we got off to a rocky start.”
“What happened? And don’t tell me you don’t want to talk about it,” Ember warns. “You’ve been keeping secrets for three freaking weeks, and that’s simply not how we operate. Unless you want me to fly down there and kick your ass, you better start dishing.”
With a sigh, I proceed to tell her the whole story, starting with the night I met Gunner and ending with today’s vexing office encounter.
“Holy shit,” Ember says when I finish. “Ho-lee shit.”
“Basically,” I mumble under my breath.
“So let me get this straight. The hot guy you mistook for your date—and almost fucked—turned out to be Gunner Ransom, the billionaire you now work for?”
I grimace. “It sounds even worse hearing it summarized like that.”
My sister laughs. “I don’t know what shocks me more—the shady stunt he pulled or his outrageously generous job offer. He’s got some serious balls.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter.
“Oh, I can imagine.” Ember cackles lasciviously.
I bite my lip. “Do you think I’m crazy for accepting the job?”
“Are you kidding? He’s paying you two hundred grand. I don’t know anyone who would have turned down that kind of money, especially in your predicament.” The sound of running water can be heard as Ember washes her hands. “What are your hours?”
“Seven-thirty to four. I’m off on weekends.” Except next weekend , I think sourly.
“Since you’re in grad school, does he offer flexible scheduling?”
“Yeah. My work schedule will be adjusted once classes start. He’s also paying my tuition. All of it.”
“Seriously? That’s freaking awesome!”
I smile. “It was definitely a big selling point.”
“No kidding.” Ember sounds thoroughly pleased. “So . . . I just have to ask.”
“What?”
“How far is his bedroom from yours?”
I scowl. “Why the hell does that matter?”
“Because he wants to fuck you,” Ember says with a dirty laugh. “And you want to fuck him, too.”
I feel my cheeks warm. “Just because I want to doesn’t mean I intend to.”
“Mmm. At least you didn’t deny the mutual lust.” Ember rummages noisily in her handbag, probably searching for lipstick. “You know, as an employment attorney, I could rattle off a litany of reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t sleep with your boss. So many things could go wrong. Frankly, it’s a recipe for disaster.”
I puff out a breath. “I’m not sleeping with my boss.”
Ember chuckles. “Famous last words, kiddo. Famous last words.”