Chapter 6

Chapter Six

I ’m glad my schedule has kept me busy all morning, because I cannot handle dealing with my new secretary. I’ve had to fog the glass over so I don’t have to look at her. She thinks there’s nothing wrong with what she’s wearing— she’s wrong.

My cock was hard the second my eyes took her in. It didn’t help that her honey scent filled my office. I shouldn’t have said anything, but fuck, how am I meant to concentrate and get work done when she’s strutting around in a tight skirt and a blouse that I know I could rip open without even trying.

“Xavier, don’t forget you have a lunch meeting in twenty,” her voice calls through the intercom.

I defog the windows, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Jeremy, a young second-year who works under Nathan, is standing in front of her desk. Fucking hell, I thought I had to worry about the goddamn criminals coming in and out of here. Now it seems even my staff can’t help themselves.

Pushing to my feet, I storm over to my door before throwing it open. “Jeremy, is there a reason you’re interrupting my secretary, stopping her from doing her job?” I ask him.

“Ah, no, sir. I was just… ah, I was welcoming Shar to the firm,” he stutters out.

“It’s Shardonnay. Her name is Shardonnay. I suggest you get back to work and let her do the same.”

“Sure, yeah, I was just leaving.” He nods before adding, “See you at lunch, Shar?” At my grunt, he corrects himself. “Shardonnay?”

“No, you won’t. She’s busy,” I cut in before Shardonnay can answer him.

“I am?” Her eyebrows scrunch down in confusion.

“Yes, you’re coming with me. Get your stuff together. We’re leaving.” I walk into my office and retrieve my wallet and phone from my desk. By the time I make it back, she’s standing with her umbrella and a huge bag hanging over her shoulder. “You won’t need that,” I nod to the umbrella.

“We’re in Melbourne. You never know when the weather will shift,” she says.

“I’m driving. You won’t need it. Follow me,” I grunt in reply.

“Ass,” she mumbles under her breath. Walking through the underground garage, she turns to me and asks, “Which one is yours?” I don’t get a chance to answer before she’s laughing. “Don’t worry, I already know.”

“No, you don’t.” I shake my head and halt my steps.

“It’s not hard to figure out. It’s the black weird-looking sports car thing over there—the one that screams desperate middle-aged bachelor trying to impress anyone who will look.”

It’s not often that I don’t have an intelligent counterargument. “I’m not fucking middle-aged. Get in,” I growl, pressing the button on the remote and unlocking the doors.

I open the passenger door and I wait for her to slide in. I might fucking hate the girl but I still have manners. She doesn’t say anything but her eyes continue to mock me as she climbs inside.

The engine purrs to life. “Just for the record, this is not a weird-looking car. It’s a goddamn Lamborghini,” I educate her.

“Oh, fancy. So I probably shouldn’t kick my shoes off and put my feet on the seats then, huh?” she asks as she does just that.

My mouth opens and closes as I watch in horror. Her legs fold up underneath her, and it does nothing but show me just how flexible she is. Which then has my mind drifting as I imagine a whole heap of other ways I can bend and contort her body. When she tips her head back and closes her eyes, instead of telling her to get her damn feet off my leather seats, I drive out of the garage. She looks relaxed, tired.

“Did you not sleep last night?” I ask once we’re out on the road.

“Not a lot,” she admits.

“Why?”

“Because I was too busy plotting all the ways I could kill your sister.” She smiles but still doesn’t open her eyes.

When we stop at a red light, I use the opportunity to take her in. She’s fucking perfect. I’ve always known that though. If she weren’t so fucking young, and my sister’s best friend, I would have had her in my bed years ago. Maybe I should throw caution to the wind and bring her back to my place—fuck this stupid infatuation I have with her out of me.

“I can feel you staring. Want me to send you a picture so you don’t have to memorise my face?” she asks, her eyelashes fluttering open.

“Only if it’s a picture worthy of Playboy.” I smirk. “One I can jerk off to over and over again.”

Her face goes beet red while I fucking curse myself out. If that’s not a HR lawsuit waiting to happen, I don’t know what the fuck is. The apology is on the tip of my tongue. I should apologise, but am I really all that sorry? Nope.

“I’ll see what I can muster up.” She mimics my smirk.

“Wait, seriously?” I ask her, dumbfounded.

“No, you freaking perv. Oh my god, I don’t know what kind of secretaries you’ve had before but I can see why they don’t last long.”

“They don’t last long because they’re too busy daydreaming about my cock to do their damn jobs,” I say.

“Well, I won’t have that problem.” She shrugs.

“Let’s hope not,” I counter, even though the thought of Shardonnay wanting to jump on my dick is anything but unappealing. “You know I don’t pay you to sleep, right?” I ask her as she closes her eyes again.

“Yep, I’m aware. Which is why I’m not asleep. I’m just closing my eyes to save myself from going blind from looking at your ugly face.” Her pouty lips curl at the sides.

“So you think I’m old, middle-aged, and ugly , huh?” I raise a brow at her, even if she’s not looking. Because I’ve seen her check me out more than once. I’ve also seen how much she blushes during those rare occasions where my tongue has slipped and I’ve said something inappropriate—like asking her for photos of herself for my spank bank.

“More or less,” she says. “You also talk too much.” Opening her eyes, she sits up straighter and slides her feet off the seat.

For some odd reason, which I’m not going to examine right now, that bothers me. I want her to be able to relax, to sleep.

“Who is this Benjamin Kipner we’re meeting with anyway? What’d he do?” she asks with a sudden enthusiasm.

“He’s, ah, he’s on trial for possession and distribution of cocaine. When we’re at this meeting, I need you to just blend into the background, sit down, keep your mouth shut. Do not draw attention to yourself.” When I look over at her, I laugh. Shardonnay blending into the background of any room is impossible. She’s fucking gorgeous, and the best bit is she doesn’t even know it.

“Sure, I’m good at blending in. You won’t even know I’m there,” she says, more confidently than she should.

“Shardonnay, it’s impossible to not notice you.”

“That’s not true. I’ve been to at least ten of your family functions where you didn’t even bother to say hello to me. Why? Because I’m not all that noticeable. But that’s okay. I’m fine with it.” She shrugs.

Fuck me, that’s what she thinks? I ignored her because I didn’t notice her? I can’t correct her assumptions without showing her all my cards, and I sure as shit can’t fucking do that. Today alone I’ve already said enough to land me in a lawsuit.

“What are you planning to study at university next year?”

“I… it doesn’t matter.”

“If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have asked. Answer the question, Shardonnay.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you sound like a lawyer? Answer the question, Shardonnay .” She deepens her voice in what I’m assuming is an attempt to mock my own.

“Once or twice. And you still haven’t answered it.”

“Okay, I’m going to study science.”

“Science?” I ask, surprised.

“Yes, chemistry, to be precise.”

“And what do you intend to do with a chemistry degree?”

“Make meth,” she sasses.

“Well, when you get caught, I know a pretty good defence attorney.” Retrieving a card from my pocket, I pass it over to her. “You should keep this on hand.”

“Yeah, unless I’m making it big time in this potential meth lab, I’d be the jailbird seeking legal aid, not a lawyer charging over a grand an hour.”

“For you, I’d do the job pro bono.” I smirk.