Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
I scoff, following it up with a cough to disguise my reaction to Patrick’s casualness regarding the invoice he huffed about, only a few hours ago. He’s changed his tune.
‘I’ve been away. My staff overlooked it.’ Jesse explains. I release a thankful rush of air.
‘I knew there would be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Was it business or pleasure?’ Patrick sounds genuinely interested. I know different. He’s mentally calculating how much money he might be able to make out of Jesse. He’s a dear man, but he’s mad about turnover.
Jesse turns his eyes on me. ‘Oh, definitely pleasure.’ he says categorically.
I shrink further into my swivel chair, feeling my face turning a thousand shades of red. I can’t even look him in the eye. What is he trying to do to me?
‘I’d like to make some appointments with Miss O’Shea while I’m here. We need to get a quick turn around on this.’ he adds surely.
Ha! I very nearly remind him that he, supposedly, doesn’t make appointments to fuck me. But if I did that, I suspect I would firstly get the sack, and secondly, receive a sense fuck to rival all others. So, I keep my mouth firmly shut. Appointments? This man is impossible.
‘Absolutely,’ Patrick rumbles. ‘Are you looking for a design, or a design consultation and/or project manage?’
I roll my eyes. I know the answer to this question. After my perfectly exasperated eye roll is executed, I lift my eyes to Jesse and find him watching me, clearly struggling to maintain his serious face.
‘The whole package.’ he answers. What the hell does that mean?
‘Super!’ Patrick claps his hands together. ‘I’ll leave you with Ava. She’ll take good care of you.’ Patrick offers his hand and Jesse takes it, keeping his eyes right on me.
I’ve never been in a more difficult situation in my life. I’m sweating, fidgeting and sat so far back in my chair, I’m probably blending in with the leather.
‘I know she will,’ He smiles, turning his green pools back to Patrick. ‘If you give me your company bank details, I’ll arrange an immediate bank transfer. I’ll also make an advanced payment on the next stage. It will save any future delays.’
‘I’ll get Sally to note them down for you.’ Patrick leaves us, but I don’t relax.
Jesse sits back down in front of me, his irritatingly handsome face displaying an abundance of joy at my nervousness. The full package? Definitely pleasure? I should bash him around the head with my paper weight!
Dragging myself out of my dumbstruck state, I shift all of the drawings that are littering my desk and pull my diary over. ‘When are you free?’ I ask. I know I sound highly unprofessional and terse, but I don’t care. He’s taking his power trip too far now.
‘When are you?’
I look up, finding a green, satisfied stare. I lean in. ‘I’m not talking to you.’ I spit, rather immaturely.
‘What about screaming for me?’
My eyes widen in shock. ‘Neither.’
‘That may make business a little tricky.’ he pouts, his lips dancing at the corners.
‘Will it be business, Mr Ward, or pleasure?’
‘Pleasure, all the way.’ he answers darkly.
‘You do realise that you’re paying for me to have sex with you,’ I whisper on a hiss. ‘That, in effect, makes me a hooker!’
I watch as a flash of anger passes over his face and he shoots forward in his chair. ‘Shut up, Ava.’ he warns. ‘And just so you know, you will be screaming later,’ He leans back again. ‘When we make friends,’
I sigh heavily. It would be better, all-round, if I dropped this contract, right now. Patrick will keel over with shock, but either way, I’m totally knackered. Continue like this, I’m bound to be rumbled. Then he really will get to fuck me when he pleases. I’m losing control here. Losing control? I laugh to myself. Have I ever had control since this beautiful man trampled into my life?
‘Is something funny?’ he asks seriously.
I make a meal of flicking though the pages of my diary harshly. ‘Yes, my life,’ I mutter. ‘When shall I pencil you in?’
‘I don’t want to be pencilled in anywhere, pencil can be erased.’ His tone is smooth and confident. I look up from my diary and find a large, permanent, black marker pen being waved under my nose. ‘Every day.’ he states calmly.
‘Every day? Don’t be so stupid!’ I blurt a bit too loudly.
He gives me his roguish grin as he removes the lid from the marker. Reaching over, making a point of brushing his fingers over my hand, he pulls my diary away from me. I shiver, and he gives me that knowing look. Turning to tomorrow’s page in my diary, he coolly runs a line through the middle, writing “Mr Ward” across the page in big, black letters. He then skims past the weekend. ‘You’re mine then, anyway.’ he muses to himself.