My stomach sank as I looked around the room.
One of the guys had gone to Dartmouth.
Yeah, no chance in hell I was beating him.
“A very special congratulations to Mark and Olivia! Our new summer interns!”
I froze.
Olivia paled.
So far, all great signs, am I right?
“Applause!” Max encouraged as the rest of the candidates glared at both of us like we just ran over their new puppy.
I forced a smile and a wave, not knowing what else to do.
Olivia blushed but stood and did the same like we were both in a pageant.
Even apart, we were being awkward, so how the hell were we supposed to work so close together for the next two months?
Survival instincts kicked in as Max ushered us forward. “Come, come!”
Was it wrong that when he said come, all I could think about was her face when I was inside her?
Dirty.
Wrong.
Didn’t hate the visual though.
I cleared my throat and walked toward the front of the room with Olivia walking next to me, her scent snaking around my body, making my dick twitch and my breath catch like I was back in middle school, unable to control every sexual urge I had.
My fingers flexed into two fists as I finally made it up to Max, my new boss for the next few months.
How the hell was his dark chocolate hair so shiny and thick? I frowned as he lifted his stupid ass spectacles again and examined me, then her. “Yes, you’ll do just fine.”
“Thanks,” Olivia said with a bright smile. “Can I be the first to say how excited I am to be picked? I’ll work extremely hard, I’ll even stay late, whatever you need, Mr. Emory—”
“Too bad you just got a puppy that needs training, huh Olive?” I piped up. “But sir, don’t worry, I have no pets, no life really; I’ll be happy to spend the night at the offices if I have to. After all, nobody needs me, and the ones who say they do, like to draw super fancy lines in the sand just in case I get confused. I am a guy, huh, after all.”
“Poor lonely bastard.” Max shook his head. “Do you have the sads, brother?”
“Sads,” I repeated. “Yes…I’m…” I gulped. “So very sad.” I hung my head.
He literally pulled me in for a hug in front of everyone, then slapped my back like I was choking on a rib. “Brothers stick together. Thank you for being vulnerable with me. I’ll be sure to distract you from your current life situation with work.”
“It’s all I want,” I said with a grin.
Olivia cleared her throat. “We sold the puppy.”
Max did a double take. “Into slavery?”
“No! What?” She shared a panicked expression with me then beamed at Max. “He was having a hard time adjusting to the cat, so my parents sold him, and I’m still living at home, so—”
Max held up one hand then pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “You sold him to a puppy factory?”
“NO!” she nearly shouted. “My cousin—who’s a vet, by the way—bought him from my parents because she loves puppies. I’m a puppy advocate. You won’t find anyone who loves animals more!”
“Oh.” Max straightened up. “That’s a relief.”
“Isn’t it though?” She smiled brightly.
“The rest of you…” Max motioned to the room. “You can go home. You’ll be compensated for your time. Thank you for applying.” Everyone shuffled out as he turned to us. “Now that we’re done with the official announcement…” He rubbed his hands together. “Welcome, to Emory Enterprises. Furthermore—” His blue eyes gleamed. “—welcome to the Emory Games.”
My stomach flipped then fell off a cliff. “What?”
“The Emory Games.” He spread his arms wide and then snapped his fingers. “Dustin, don’t make me snap again!”
“Sir—” A guy in his early twenties wearing a shirt that said Max’s bitch came running with two manila envelopes in hand. “The printer’s on the fritz again.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “You annoy me.”
“I know, sir.”
“Do your hair differently tomorrow.” Max flipped his wrist at poor Dustin. “And try not to cower when you get yelled at. It’s disappointing.”
“Right away, sir!” This Dustin guy saluted him and then did this weird mix of a march slash walk out of the room, head held high.
“I love my cousin. I love my cousin.” Max repeated under his breath. “Now, please read everything in the envelopes and report to work tonight.”
“Tonight?” we said in unison.
Max shrugged. “It was in the application. Must be able to work odd hours.”
Odd hours meaning late hours or early ones, right? Not midnight.
“Is this the start of our workday, then?” Olivia asked.
“Read, Olivia. Read.” He winked, and then he was off, but weirdly enough, the guy with the camera stayed.
I tried to ignore him as I shakily pulled out the first sheet of paper and then nearly passed out when I started to read.