Chapter 2

Chapter Two

“ H ow many does that make it so far this month, Alistair?” Nathan asks, smirking around a crystal glass filled with rich amber liquid.

“Ten, pay up.” Alistair holds his hand out, and I watch in mock horror as Nathan passes him a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

“You two are not seriously betting on my secretaries?” I ask, pushing to my feet. I walk over to the wet bar in the corner of my office and refill my glass.

Screw them. They can get their own.

It’s Friday night and we have this one little drink to conclude the working-week ritual. After the shitshow that was today, it’s going to take more than one to unwind tonight. A lot more.

“Of course not. We’re betting on how many you go through in a one-month period,” Alistair says.

“I have not gone through ten secretaries,” I scoff. I haven’t—at least I don’t think I have.

“You have.” Nathan nods.

“Shit. It’s not my fault it’s so fucking hard to get good help these days.” I sigh, leaning back into my desk chair.

Nathan and Alistair, my so-called best mates and business partners, sit in the two black leather couches opposite me, separated by a solid white marble coffee table.

“I’ve had Terri for three years, not one single problem.” Nathan laughs.

“Tracey has been going strong for five,” Alistair adds.

“They’re also both old as fuck and not trying to hump your bones every chance they get,” I complain. “If I had a dollar for every time one of my new hires batted their lashes or unbuttoned their blouses that extra button, well, I’d be a rich fucking man.”

“You’re already a rich fucking man,” Alistair says. “You just need to hire a secretary who doesn’t want to fuck you. I’m sure, out of the millions of women in this country, there’s bound to be at least one who can resist the charms of Xavier Christianson.”

“There is actually. She’s starting on Monday.” I smile. I have the perfect little secretary—one who won’t bat a single eye in my direction.

“Who?” Nathan asks with a raised brow.

“My sister.” I widen my smirk.

Both men share a look before bursting out laughing. “You hired Lucy?” Nathan attempts to clarify.

“To work here?” Alistair points to the ground.

“Yes, what the fuck is wrong with that?” I frown, getting slightly pissed off now.

“Ah, nothing. Good luck with that.” Nathan shakes his head.

Sure, my little sister has been known to be flaky, always late, and a little spoilt. Because well, she is. But I’m confident that this job is going to change that for her. It’ll give her direction, discipline, and something to look forward to other than partying and sleeping her days away.

Besides, I happen to love my sister, even when she’s a pain in my ass. When she called today and asked if there were any positions open, it was perfect timing. I’d just fired Tanya—or was it Tiffany? Doesn’t matter. The idiot spilt coffee all over me and then proceeded to start undoing the buttons of my shirt before sinking her hands inside and copping a feel.

And in true Christianson form, Lucy negotiated the salary. I’m paying her more than the award rate, more than I’ve ever paid a secretary before. Not that she needs it. I’m not sure why she’s doing this, but I wasn’t in the mood to question it too much. It wasn’t worth the effort.

Our family is old money. My sister and I both have trust funds that would fully equip us to never work a day in our lives. Not to mention, the companies we’ll eventually inherit. I’ve never been one to take the silver spoon lifestyle for granted though. I’ve always been goal-oriented; from a young age, I was headstrong about making it on my own. And I have. I’m a partner at Christianson, Miller, and Warner. Nathan and Alistair being the two other names on our wall.

Looking around my corner office, I can confirm I really have made it. I’m at the top of my game as one of Melbourne’s best defence attorneys. Nathan specialises in corporate law while Alistair’s speciality is family; they call him the divorce king because his clients always come out better off than their ex-spouses.

I made my way through university with academic scholarships. I never used a dime of my family’s money to get to where I am today. And that is something no one can take away from me. Does being a Christianson open doors that would otherwise shut in my face? Fucking oath, it does. But no one can choose the family they’re born in to. I’m just fucking blessed to have received the one I did.

“Who’s keen for the club tonight?” I ask, finishing my second glass of Scotch.

“I can’t. Sorry, I have a date.” Nathan stands and places his glass on the coffee table.

“With who?” I press, intrigued.

“No one you’d know.” He smirks.

“Try me. I know a lot of women.”

“No, you know a lot of hoebags. This is a nice girl, so you don’t know her. Catch you two on Monday.”

“See ya.” I shake my head at him as he leaves, and Alistair mimics the gesture.

“He’s going to hate his date with the nice girl.” Alistair laughs.

“Yep,” I agree. Nathan is in search of the future Mrs Miller and seems to think he’s going to find her in one of the polite, boring girls he’s been going on endless dates with.

The thing is… he always ends up at the club afterwards. Because, again, men like us need a woman who’s going to pique our interests. And that’s definitely not going to happen with a “nice” girl.

I can’t believe I let these assholes talk me into coming here on a Sunday night. Friday night? Saturday night? No worries. But Sunday? Fuck, I have to be in the office at six in the morning—which is exactly five hours from now.

“One more,” Alistair yells, holding up his empty glass.

“One more,” Nathan agrees.

It’s one a.m. We’re all on our… I don’t actually know the count. We’ve all had a lot of drinks. Usually I’d be up for another, but not tonight. “I’m out. I got things to do before I have to be at the office,” I tell them.

I’ve had my eye on a particular redheaded siren for the past thirty minutes. Walking to the edge of the dance floor, I wait for her eyes to connect with mine. It doesn’t take long. Crooking my finger in her direction, I call her over to me. It’s always better when they come to me.

“You summoned.” She laughs into my ear.

I get a whiff of her over-the-top Chanell No 5 perfume. It’s the one scent I fucking hate. Fuck, maybe I could make her shower before I fuck her? Shaking my head, I put that thought away.

“I did, but I just realised I have somewhere to be,” I lie. Turning around, I hightail it out of the club before drawing my phone from my pocket. I call David, my driver. “Hey, man, can you swing by and pick me up?”

“I’m just down the road. Look left,” he says.

I crane my neck and sigh in relief. I don’t have to wait. David holds open the door to my Mercedes and I climb into the back seat. “Thanks, Davo, ‘ppreciate you, man,” I slur.

“Anytime, sir,” he replies before closing me inside.

What the hell was I thinking? This is why I don’t let Alistair and Nathan talk me into going out on a fucking Sunday night. It’s six a.m. and I’ve just sat down in my office. The sun’s rising over the horizon while shining brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

I press a button and the shades draw down, dimming the glaring light. Fuck me, I think I’m still fucking drunk. Thank God Lucy will be here in two hours. I’ll have her cancel all of my appointments for the morning so I can sleep this off—three hours just isn’t enough. What kind of monster manages to run on three hours of fucking sleep anyway?

Nathan and Alistair, apparently. They’ve always been able to function on fumes. Those fuckers will walk in here any moment now, looking fresh as daisies, like they don’t have a care in the world.

Digging through my desk drawer, I find a pack of paracetamol. I pop out two, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and swallow the pills. Fuck, I just need to lie down for a few minutes. That’s all. Just ten minutes and I’ll be fine.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m going to bloody murder her.” My eyes pop open at the voice.

A voice I know all too well; a voice that has no place being in my fucking office. Ever. I peer up and my eyes connect with a pair of emerald green orbs that seem to haunt my very existence. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.

“Lucy told me to be here. I’m meant to be starting my employment today. She failed to mention the part about how the job involves working for you.” Her lips kick up in disgust. Her very fuckable lips.

Fucking Lucy. “Lucy is meant to be working here. Not you.” I point out the obvious. “And what? Did you miss the sign on the wall when you helped yourself through the building? The one that clearly reads Christianson ?” I ask.

“I…” she stammers before straightening her shoulders. “Obviously your family owns a lot of companies, Xavier. I didn’t know this one was yours,” she says my name like even the thought of it repulses her.

Shardonnay, my little sister’s hot-as-fuck best friend, the one who’s been making my dick hard for the last five years. For longer than it had any right to get hard over a damn teenage girl. Is standing in my office, glaring at me

“Okay, first of all, lower your fucking voice. And second, Lucy is going to be here at eight, so you can leave,” I tell her.

I’ve spent enough family holidays avoiding this girl because she infuriates me. She also turns me on like no one else ever has. I’ve put it down to the forbidden fruit thing, sister’s best friend, untouchable. Did I mention a much younger sister?

Meaning this girl, who’s no older than twenty—standing in my office with a scowl I’d love nothing more than to fuck off her face—is twelve years younger than me. And I have no business lusting over a fucking twenty-year-old.

“It’s 08:01 now. And just for reference, I was here early. And now I’m leaving. Though, if you want to speak to your sister, I’d call her soon, before I get a chance to find her and kill her,” Shardonnay seethes.

“Wait… you’ll do,” I say, instantly regretting my words.

“What do you mean I’ll do ?”

“I mean you’ll do. I need a secretary who doesn’t want to jump on my dick every other minute. And besides my sister, and mother, you’re the one woman in the world who seems to hate me enough to not want to fuck me,” I say. “Unless, of course, you do want to fuck me? Could be hot, like hate fucking?” I smirk, purposely letting my eyes roam up and down her body.