JAMESON
Ialmost fucked a twenty-year-old...
I add a shot of whiskey to my coffee and lean back in my chair.
From the look in Scarlett’s eyes and the way she touched me in return, she would’ve been bent over on all fours if we hadn’t been interrupted.
A small part of me—very tiny, damn near minuscule—wants to believe it was for the best.
I type “Research the fuck out of Scarlett—a temp contract employee here—then tell me everything,” and then I send it to Rachel’s task list for Monday.
My office door swings open and the head cleaning engineer, Mr. Brice, steps in with his usual box.
“Sorry about our late finish today, Mr. Tate,” he says. “It won’t happen again.”
“Don’t mention it. You do a great job managing things.”
“Well, it’s just been ‘okay’ lately if I’m being honest.” He sighs. “We’ve had a full crew turnover this past month, but the new temp agency girls—especially Scarlett—are one hell of a find.”
“Scarlett from marketing?” I tilt my head to the side. “She helps you with janitorial service as well?”
“No, just janitorial.” He places a clipboard on my desk. “It’s rare you can find a woman who can actually buff a marble floor so well, you know?”
No, I don’t know.
“Here’s where we stand on everything since you mentioned you’ll be having some staff-wide all-nighters soon…”
The rest of his words come in muted, and I mentally rewind every fucking frame Scarlett and I have ever shared.
Necessary lies are one thing, but her constant piecemeal secrets are another.
“I need to make some staff and scheduling changes to our contract,” I say to Mr. Brice. “Do you have a moment?”