Then she leaves the office, closing the door quietly. Somehow the fact that she’d rather foist me off on a random stranger hurts more than the fact that she can’t do it herself.
Chapter Three
Evie
By the time I arrive home, it’s almost eight. As promised, Nate had my car waiting for me in the office garage. Thoughtful of him to remember, because I totally forgot about it. But then, he’s a very considerate boss.
I tried to ignore his mood all day long, but of course he’s upset that I refused to bid on him at the auction. He never said anything, but he seemed a bit…broody, I guess, is the word to describe his mood for the rest of the day. He even shot me a few resentful glances while I worked on my tablet.
But I’m not going to bid on him at the auction. No way.
I walk into the ap
artment, and there’s Kim in a tank top and boxers, stretched out on the couch. She’s a stunning brunette with the most beautiful caramel-brown eyes I’ve ever seen. There’s a small, jagged scar on her jaw line that she can’t hide, even with concealer. But instead of diminishing her allure, I think it adds to her mystery. How did the super-efficient assistant to a man as wealthy and important as Salazar Pryce get a scar like that?
I’ve never asked, not wanting to be nosy. I’m lucky to have her as a roommate, because this place isn’t far from Nate’s house, has two lovely suites and is way out of my price range. Not to mention, she’s been mentoring me. There’s no way I could’ve survived in my job for nine months without her help and advice. As a matter of fact, she’s the one who referred me into my current position.
“Hey, you’re finally home,” she says. “I left you some Thai chicken and rice.”
“Yes, please.” I kick off my heels and dump my purse on the dining table before rushing to the kitchen. “And thanks. You’re a goddess.
She waves airily. “I bestow my Thai chicken favor upon you.”
I microwave the food and bring it over to the couch with a glass of Merlot. She sits up, and I plunk down next to her and dig into my dinner.
“Didn’t Nate feed you lunch?”
“He offered, but I opted for having my PB&J at the desk.” It was obvious he was going to try to wine and dine me into changing my mind about the auction.
“Why? Is he becoming too irresistible for you? Was he extra hot today?”
I almost choke on the rice. “Shit. Not like that.”
Kim raises an eyebrow.
“I mean, yeah, of course he’s hot.” Oh my God, sooo hot. “And he did greet me in nothing but a towel again today.”
My hormones start to stir at the memory. I can’t decide if he walks around half-nude on purpose. I don’t think he does, though, because A, he does whatever he wants all the time anyway, and B, I haven’t done anything to discourage or encourage him. The first time it happened, I used every ounce of willpower and kept my eyes on his face, even though my traitorous peripheral vision told me his shoulders are super-wide and his chest is lean and totally made to lay my head on, among other things.
I check him out when I’m pretty certain he isn’t looking. His back looks freakin’ amazing. Defined. Powerful. Muscles rippling smoothly as he reaches for whatever shirt I’ve picked out for him that morning.
“I think he’s been working out more recently. He’s gotten even more muscular,” I say. If he were lying down, and you slowly poured a glass of Merlot—like, say, the one I’m holding—over his stomach, you’d end up with six little islands surrounded by dark red channels like rivers in a miniature landsca—
“The man’s in his prime. Of course he’s getting more muscular,” Kim says. “I’m telling you, he is totally into you. That’s why he keeps showing off his body. It’s like the mating dances those birds do. He’s displaying himself so you’ll say yes.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop.” I wave my hand, embarrassed and confused over her insistence that there’s more to his parading around topless than him just…parading around topless. “I don’t know why we have to have this same conversation every week. No matter how hot he is, he’s off-limits. Good for admiring from afar, but that’s it.”
“You never kno-ow,” she says with a little singsong lilt. “He’s young, rich, handsome and definitely single. Perfect for you, and I know you think about him in the most carnal way.”
Crap. Am I that obvious? “I do not. That’s just your little fantasy.”
“I bet he fantasizes about you calling him Mr. Sterling in that prim voice while he rams into you.” She does a breathy Marilyn Monroe voice. “Oh, Mr. Sterling. You’re so big.”
Oh lord. My face turns hot. I bet he’d feel solid and amazing on top of me. And he’s built. Those broad shoulders, the pecs…
Bad hormones, bad!
I gulp down the wine. I started calling him Mr. Sterling because I wanted the formality for a little distance between us. He never corrected me, and called me Ms. Parker in return. But when I told Kim a couple of months later, she said he was probably having boss/assistant power-dynamic wet dreams. Ugh. I then immediately thought about switching to “Nate,” but it seemed stupid after being all “Mr. Sterling” for so long.