Chapter 5 #2
“The position is Executive Personal Assistant to Mason Mercer, CEO. His title has not been made public yet, hence any confusion you may have had as to the person seeking your services.” Sabrina blinks at a steady cadence.
She doesn’t smile at the fact that it would be my dick sinking inside her.
She doesn't react at all. Interesting. Trystan continues. “Should you be successful, you would form part of Mr. Mercer’s executive team, alongside Helen Paul, whom you met earlier, and myself. We work together to ensure Mr. Mercer has everything he needs. His days are long and arduous, so the support he receives at the executive level is paramount. Understood?”
“Yes, Mr. er, Trystan.”
“Great. Now, while Hel and I do the bulk of the scheduling and network briefings and so forth, there is a need for additional analytics support and being available to Mr. Mercer when the need arises.”
“I understand.”
“Perfect. Is there anything preventing you from fulfilling the contract, knowing how detailed it is, having read it in its entirety, as you stated earlier?”
“Um, no,” she says back with a confidence I’m not sure radiates from within.
“No partner, boyfriend? Anyone who might not understand the nature of the contract and its implications?”
She chews on her lower lip. It’s brief, but it’s there; a nervous tell. “No. There is no one else. I’m single.” The last two words slide out with her exhale.
“Wonderful,” Trys adds while Sabrina continues to oscillate her gaze between us.
“It’s not an expectation that you be single; however, we have found in the past that it goes a long way.
Some partners are not as understanding of intimate relationships with a boss.
” No shit. The boss and secretary cliché is as old as time.
Only this secretary would be paid for her exclusive time with my dick.
No love, no feelings, just sex. Sex and spreadsheets, orgasms and analytics.
“I’m sure you’ve read over the personal grooming requirements, as well as the expectations for professional and personal conduct.
You would be required to accompany Mr. Mercer to a variety of scheduled events.
Some as his date of sorts, if you will, others in the capacity of an executive assistant.
A lot can be garnered at functions when people are reliant on alcohol to get through an evening.
” His chuckle reappears, as does Bri’s. “You will be required to remain sober, though, as you know.”
“Yes, sir.” She nods. Sir? What the fuck. When she says those words, in that tone while looking up through those glorious lashes, I want her face inches from my hips, and those eyes on me as she swallows me down.
“There is a stipend for grooming and waxing, or laser if you prefer, hair appointments, and spa appointments for facials. Any plastic surgery requests will be dealt with on a case-by-case basis.”
Her face pulled into an aghast grimace. “What displeases you, Ms. Broe?”
“You pay for plastic surgery for your assistants?” she says, the vitriol dripping off her tongue.
“Not always. As I said, it’s on a case-by-case basis,” Trystan corrects her. “Are there any aspects pertaining to the personal part of the position that you perceive may be a problem, Bri?”
That full bottom lip disappears between her teeth once more. Come on, share with the class. What will you not do for one million dollars? What is your deal-breaker, if anything?
“No. I’m more than happy to fulfill anything requested.” She smiles back. Interesting.
“Great, that’s good to hear. Mason?” His salacious wink twitches my groin again.
“Perfect,” I deadpan. If I were hoping to gain some more insight into why she’s willing to take this position, she’s not forthcoming. Yet. A little wine, maybe? What will it take to find out what makes Sabrina Arden Broe tick? My mind races at the idea of uncovering her, figuratively and literally.
Trystan continues to recite the executive side of the position requirements. “Of course, being a media group, your presentations are required to be innovative. You’ll have access to the full gamut of presses and technology. Our standards are high and exacting.”
Sabrina continues with polite replies around her proficiency with computer programs and business jargon; she’s worked predominantly in publishing and has an in-depth knowledge of language conventions and proper lexicon. I can’t take the pleasantries a moment longer.
“Why do you want this position, Sabrina?” This time, my candor throws her for a loop.
She may have been prepared for the question to arise, but by whom and the timing of it caught her off guard.
She reaches for the tumbler of water on the table after excusing herself and takes a long sip of the cool liquid.
The symphony of the ripples across the column of her slender throat is mesmerizing.
Trystan and I wait for her to answer, each of us eager to find out the reason for her being here and to get on with the actual work.
“I was put forward for this role because the agency deemed me to be a good fit.”
Nice try. Give us the unabridged version. The warts-and-all first draft with the scribbles and mess of arrows and crossing out. She’s here to fill a role that demands sex as part of a free-use contract that pays a million dollars for one year of tenure. This is not a job she stumbled into.
“I’m sure Mason will agree that I’m not speaking out of turn here,” Trys says, his cool, knowing eyes meeting mine across the rim of my tumbler.
I arch a brow to encourage him to continue.
“You differ from what agencies send us, Ms. Broe. Irrespective of your being put forward by Covet, why do you want this job?” Ah, there it is.
An index finger taps the table softly, once, twice.
Sabrina cants her head to the side, perhaps deciding what version of the truth to convey.
Covet sends us models and actresses. Other agencies send us pimped-up beauty queens and women who almost look like they begged to be included; their presentation and personality are so far removed from the position requirements we have blocked some agencies.
“I don’t want this job, Mr. Hynd, Mr. Mercer. I need it.”
“Go on,” I encourage, shuffling forward in the calfskin wingback.
“My sister has a medical issue that requires specialized treatment. We’ve been advised that it can be expensive.
” Her fingers clasp together before she worries them loose again on another extended exhale.
“I’m tech-savvy, reliable, and always on time, if not early, to work.
I’m diligent and a quick learner, and I know I’ll be an asset to the executive team.
I’m not asking you to consider me for this position; I’m begging you. ”
Oh, I do adore a woman who begs.