LANCE FROST
THERE SHE IS. Faith Greene, my newest employee. The secretary I didn’t want to hire but who was forced down my throat by her obnoxious father, who just happens to be one of my largest clients. He distributes tens of millions of dollars’ worth of my product every year. Could I survive without him? Sure. But first and foremost, I’m a businessman, so as a businessman, I sucked it up and hired his 18-year-old daughter to be my personal gopher, a job she so far hasn’t even been able to handle.
And now look at her—chatting with Andy, the office womanizer, giggling and smiling at him, bouncing her teenage tits up and down as she laughs at his corny jokes while he wears that stupid Santa hat that he thinks all the girls like. Normally, Andy’s antics don’t irritate me at all. He can go ahead trying to fill every hole he finds if he wants to; that’s not my thing. But for some reason, seeing him hitting on Faith makes my blood boil.
He doesn’t deserve her. She’s fresh, untouched, barely-legal, and too naïve for a guy like Andy. And why wouldn’t she be? She’s been raised like royalty, a daughter of the one percent, more privileged than she could ever possibly know. An asshole like Andy will just use her up and toss her aside, and she won’t even know what hit her.
I watch them through the glass of my office. What’s he saying to her? Some kind of stupid joke or pickup line he found on the internet? Or is he just giving her the same shit he gives to all the other girls? Whatever it is, it seems to be working.
Faith laughs so loudly I can hear it from where I’m standing. She giggles again, and her tits, unable to be concealed by her thick Christmas sweater, bounce like two perfect globes. I feel my cock starting to swell beneath my dress pants.
Fuck it.
“Faith!” I bark, opening my office door. “Get your ass over here!”
Everyone looks but does their best to pretend like they didn’t. But Faith can’t hide her concern. She glances over at me, her cheeks as red as Santa’s, sets her drink down, and starts making her way over to me like she’s taking the walk of shame.
A low growl rises from my chest as I watch her. She may be an entitled little bitch, but she’s built like a race car. Every curve is perfection. Every movement is hypnotic. Even in a thick sweater and a long skirt that goes down to her ankles, I can picture her naked, and the mental image is enough to cause my candy cane to stand at full attention. As she approaches, I have to shift my stance to make my bulge less obvious.
Christ, why does it have to be her that turns me on?
Many men in my position—billionaire heads of companies—like to use their wealth and status to get women. Lots of women. But not me. I’m a one-woman kind of guy. At least I will be when I find her. Guys like Andy can have their fun, but I’m looking for more. A life partner. Someone I can truly trust, which isn’t easy in my line of work.
Women and men will lie, cheat and deceive to get my money, but women especially. I know that sounds sexist as hell, but it’s the truth. I don’t know how many women have tried to work their charms on me, seduce me, claim to be in love with me, all while their eyes are gleaming with dollar signs. It’s great at the top, but it’s also lonely as hell.
“Yes, Mr. Frost?” As she stops before me, Faith shifts her weight to one foot, causing her hip to jut out to one side like an Instagram model posing for her story. All I can think about is what she’d look like laid out on my bed like that wearing nothing but her birthday suit.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” My voice is raised, loud enough that the office can hear, even if they’re trying to pretend they can’t.
“Uhm…what?”
“Uhm what?” I repeat. “Is that how you talk to your boss?”
“I—I’m sorry, sir. What are you angry with me about?”
I point deliberately over her shoulder to the office Christmas tree. It’s hideous and artificial, with shining white bristles and sparkling blue lights. “What the hell is that?”
Faith follows my finger and shrugs. “The office Christmas tree. You told me to get one.”
“I told you to get a tree,” I reply. “Not an ugly, fake piece of shit!”
People are starting to really notice now and not even trying to hide the fact that they’re watching. I can see Andy’s eyes on us, looking possessively at Faith as though he has some claim to her and might come over here and reprimand me if I get out of line with her.
Yeah, try it, asshole.
“You wanted me to get a…real Christmas tree?” Faith asks with that entitled tone of hers. Great job raising your daughter, Brian. Real nice.
“This is New Hampshire, Faith. You couldn’t find one?”
“I—I didn’t think you’d want a real one shedding needles all over the office,” she replies quickly. “And I’d have to water it all the time—”
“Ah!” I laugh. “There we go. Now the real reason comes out. You didn’t want to water it! So you went ahead and bought that gaudy hunk of shit that we’re all going to have to look at until January.”
“No, that’s not why—”
“Faith Greene, the model employee, super-secretary, didn’t want to have to water a real tree!”
What a fucking waste of potential. Faith is gorgeous, with eyes that could bring a man to his knees and a body that would make him bust in his pants. She could go far with those looks alone, but instead, she chooses to flirt with scumbags and half-ass her job because she knows her daddy will protect her.
Christ, the things I’d do to her. She wouldn’t be so smug bent over my office desk being stuffed like a Christmas goose.
“I thought I was making the right decision, Lance—”
“Lance?” I chuckle. “Try Mr. Frost, okay? Just because your daddy got you this job doesn’t mean you get to act like you own the place. You’re replaceable. Got that?”