What the hell am I doing?

That’s the question that keeps running through my head as I try to answer the dozens of emails that fill my inbox. I’ve hardly gotten anything done this afternoon since Olive’s interview.

I had no intention of turning Olive into a manager. I don’t even know if it’s possible to turn her into a competent manager. She’s a complete mess. She has zero confidence in herself, which makes me have zero confidence in her ability to manage people. And, to make matters worse, she doesn’t even have her realtor’s license.

But the way she acted when she entered my office changed everything. She had me entranced from the second she spoke. She brought me further under her spell when I looked up and saw how provocatively she was dressed. I usually hate women who dress so provocatively to try to get ahead in the world, but it’s a proven fact that it works. And I had no idea that Olive had it in her to pull such a dirty trick like that. But, evidently, there’s a hint of a strong, fierce woman beneath her weak exterior. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a way to keep that strong, fierce woman on the surface.

But there’s another reason I asked her to dinner tonight. Because I want her all to myself. After seeing her in my office, I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything. Even money.

I glance at my watch. I still have thirty minutes until I told her to be ready to go to dinner. But I can’t wait any longer, and I’m not getting any useful work done anyway. I close my laptop and roll my sleeves down before I walk over and grab my coat off the coat rack in the corner of the room. Then, I walk out of Jamie’s office and find Olive sitting at her desk.

She immediately spots me, like she has been staring at my door, waiting for me to come out, but when I catch her gaze, and she realizes she has been caught, she begins clicking furiously on her mouse while burying her head behind the computer screen, trying to act like she has been working this whole time. But I know that she hasn’t gotten any more work done than I have.

I know that I affect her. As much as she tries to deny it and pretend like she has a boyfriend, I know that she wants me as badly as I want her. And, despite how wrong it might be to fuck my assistant, who has led me to believe she could be a manager, I don’t care. I’ve done much worse in the past.

“I hope you got all your work done, Olive, because I finished early, and I’m ready to go to dinner now.”

She nods and then fidgets with her computer a second more before closing it. I examine every inch of her body as she closes her laptop. I notice that her shirt is buttoned much higher than it was in my office, much to my disappointment. Although I’m happy that the rest of the men in this office didn’t get the same show that I did.

I shake my head. Where did that come from? I can’t be jealous of other men looking at Olive.

I watch as Olive puts her computer into a backpack. I sigh but don’t say anything. She then walks over and grabs the same bright, puffy pink coat that she wore to pick me up from the airport. I grab it out of her hand and then walk over and drop it in the trash.

“Hey! That was my coat! What are you doing? I can’t go outside without a coat. It’s freezing.”

“You can wear mine,” I say, shrugging mine off and handing it to her.

She frowns as she takes my coat from me. “What’s wrong with my coat?”

“If you have to ask, you’ll never understand what’s wrong with your coat.”

“You owe me a new coat.”

“Fine. I’ll have my assistant send a new coat to your place in the morning.”

“Aren’t I your assistant? So, doesn’t that mean I will be buying myself a coat?” she asks.

I sigh. “You aren’t my only assistant, Olive.”

She frowns. “But I like my puffy coat. I don’t need a new coat.”

I frown. “If you want the manager job, you’re going to have to start dressing like a manager, and that means, no puffy coats.”

“Fine,” she says, rolling her eyes.

I start walking toward the elevator, resisting the urge to grab her hand because I know it would be inappropriate. But I do manage to place my hand on the small of her back as I lead her into the elevator. I do get close enough to smell the pretty apples and cherry scent oozing off her frizzy hair. I need to remember to get her a salon appointment. I know that alone would do wonders for her confidence even though I do like her untamed hair a bit.

“Should I get an Uber?” Olive asks as we ride down in the elevator.

“No.”

“No?” Olive asks, cocking her head to the side to look at me.

“I leased a car since I’m going to be here for months.”

“Oh.”

The doors open, and I can’t handle it anymore. I grab her hand and pull her hard out of the elevator. “Come on,” I say impatiently, giving her a reason for why I am holding her hand that has nothing to do with how badly I need to touch her.

I lead her down the hallway and out to the parking garage where my Audi S4 is parked. I reach into my pocket and pull out my keys to unlock the car. I walk her to the passenger side and open the door without thinking.

Olive looks up at me, wide-eyed, as I help her into my car. I try to look annoyed, like the reason for me helping her is because I don’t think she is capable of quickly getting into the car by herself. Her wide-eyed expression quickly turns into an annoyed frown.

I smirk as I run around to the driver’s side. She really doesn’t think that I’m into her at all. And I’m going to keep it that way. If she thinks I want her, then I’m giving up some of the control to her. And I hate doing that. I’d rather her come to me. I want her begging, willing to do anything, because she needs me so badly. And, until she gets to that point, I’ll keep my hands off of her.

I drive quickly out of the parking spot. The tires squeak against the pavement as I turn too fast around the corner of the parking garage. Olive sucks in a breath and grabs hold of the door handle. Her eyes stay open wide as I whip out onto the street. But she doesn’t ask me to slow down. She doesn’t say anything. It’s like, in the last couple of hours since her interview, she has reverted back to the unconfident, quiet woman she was before.

I smirk. We will see how long she can last without getting that confident, sassy mouth back. I press my foot down harder on the gas. We speed up, flying past cars at a speed that I know is far past her comfort level.

She still doesn’t say anything though. Instead, her grasp on the door handle gets tighter. She squeezes her eyes shut as I speed up faster to zip around another car, barely squeezing in front of the car as I switch lanes.

I frown, determined to break her. I slow down, pausing at a stoplight, allowing her to catch her breath for just a second. Her eyes slowly open, and her grip on the door handle loosens.

“Have you been to Alinea before?” I ask.

Olive looks at me with wide eyes, but I can’t keep my eyes focused on hers. Instead, I move them to her chest that is rising and falling hard as she breathes heavily, giving me a great view of her breasts as they poke in and out of the blouse she is wearing.

“No. Is that where we are going? That place is really expensive,” Olive says.

I grin. “Good thing I make a lot of money then,” I say as the light turns green.

I whip around the corner, and she tries to grab hold of the door handle again, but I caught her off guard, so she can’t. I can feel the panic oozing off her body as I drive.

Still, I keep driving faster. Not because I love it—although I do like driving fast, like any other warm-blooded male does—but because I need her to tell me to stop. I never drive this fast, preferring instead to drive safe and planned, like everything else in my life, but I’m more than willing to change all of my plans when it comes to Olive.

“Stop!” Olive screams as I accelerate again, getting far too close for her comfort to the car in front of us.

I slam on the brakes, immediately slowing us down to a more reasonable speed.

I glance over at her panicked expression on her face.

“What are you doing? Trying to get us killed?”

I frown. “No. Just trying to get you to actually speak up for yourself with some confidence.”

She glares at me. “You did this on purpose to try to get me to yell at you? You could have killed us!”

“You should have told me to stop.”

She runs her hand through her hair, her hand shaking a little as it combs through her long strands. “I was trying to be nice. This is your car. I don’t like telling people how to drive or what to do.”

My frown deepens, and my grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Then, why did you apply for the manager job? All it is, is telling people what to do.”

She opens her mouth and then quickly closes it again. “I meant, in my personal life.”

I shake my head as I pull over in front of the restaurant. “You don’t get a personal life. If you are going to keep working for me, everything is about business.”

The valet opens her door, and I open my own. I step out before walking around to her side of the car to wait for her. I flip the valet the keys and resist the urge to hold my arm out to her. I take a step forward, but Olive is no longer by my side.

“You coming?” I ask.

Olive scurries forward and then whispers in my ear, “I think we should go somewhere else. This place is really nice, and I’m not really dressed that nicely.”

I look up and down her body that is covered in my coat as she wraps it even tighter around her body.

“I’m wearing slacks and a button-down shirt. Do you think I’m dressed nicely enough for this restaurant?”

She pauses a second, studying my clothing. “Yes. You look great. I mean, hot. I mean…”

I grin when she says I look hot. “And why do you think I’m dressed nicely enough to eat at this restaurant?”

She studies me a minute and then shrugs.

I sigh. “Because of the way I carry myself. I don’t give anyone the option to even think that I don’t belong in here. I’m going to eat here because it is one of the best restaurants in the city. I like splurging on the finer things in life. And I’m freezing my butt off. You can join me or not.”

I turn and walk inside, hoping to God that she follows me because, more than anything, I want to torture this woman all through dinner. And then I want to torture her in my bed.