“It is.” I pushed the contract across my desk. “I want you to consider an extended contract with Dalton International. You are undoubtedly the best publicist I’ve ever worked with, and my board can’t sing your praises high enough. I made a few amendments to the contract, more importantly the amount we’re offering and the fraternization clause.”
She picked up the contract and glanced at it. “That’s a huge increase, Mr. Dalton.”
“I’ll be sure there’s enough work to go with it.”
She smiled, but it quickly faded. “So, you amended the contract so we can publicly tell people that we’re fucking?”
“I’m sure certain people already assume that we’re fucking, but yes, this is a way to confirm it. And to also protect us both legally.”
“This is...” She crossed her arms, and I braced myself for a rant of epic proportions. “This personal meeting you’ve been telling me about all weekend was just a ruse for you to ask me to sign an extension?
“It was a ruse to ask you to be my girlfriend.”
She pretended to look upset, but her cheeks gave her away. “You could’ve asked me that over the weekend.”
“You would’ve said no.”
“No.” She smiled. “I would’ve said that the only reason you’re asking me to be your girlfriend is because you think we might possibly have more sex that way.”
“We’re definitely going to have more sex, but if that was my reasoning, I would’ve just amended the fraternization clause in your contract and left it that. I’m asking you to be my girlfriend because I think I might actually like you.”
“You might? How compelling. If that’s any indication of how you’d write a love letter, I don’t think I’ll ever marry you.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever ask you to.”
She laughed and I couldn’t help but break into laughter with her.
“All jokes aside, are you being serious with me, Ryan?”
“About the girlfriend part, yes. About the marriage part, it depends on if we’re still together in a few years.”
“I see.” She stood up and walked behind my desk, sitting in my lap. “Well, I accept the offer to be your girlfriend, but I would like us to discuss the terms.”
“What is there possibly to discuss about this?”
“You committing to being a better client. That, and us finally having sex in your office.”
“I can commit to the first part.” I covered her lips with mine and unzipped the side of her dress. “There’s no need at all to discuss the latter part. That’ll be happening every day...”
**THE END**
A Letter to the Reader
Dear Incredible Reader,
Thank you so much for taking time out of your life to read this book! I hope you were thoroughly entertained and enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
If you LOVED it and have any extra time, PLEASE leave a review, OR find me here on Facebook so I can personally thank you :-) If you hated it, well...keep that shit to yourself! LOL (Just kidding. Feel free to let me know how I can improve next time!)
I’m forever grateful for you and your time, and I hope to be re-invited to your bookshelf with my next release. (Speaking of my next release, if you’d like to be a part of my mailing list so you can be notified of my upcoming release dates and special offers, please sign up via this link. )
Love,
Whitney G.
SNEAK PEEK OF NAUGHTY BOSS
He definitely wasn’t supposed to get that email ...
Subject: My Boss.
Have I already told you that I hate my boss today?
Sexy as hell or not, this pompous, arrogant, ASSHOLE asked me to pick up his dry cleaning the second I walked through the door. Then he told me that I needed to take his Jaguar to a car wash that was ten miles outside of the city, but only after I needed to stand in a never-ending line to buy some type of limited, hundred-dollar watch.
I honestly can’t wait to see the look on his face two months from now when I tell him that I’m quitting his company and that he can kiss my ass. KISS. MY. ASS.
All those former fantasies about him kissing me with his “mouth of perfection” or bending me over my desk and filling me with his cock are long over. OVER.
Your bestie,
Mya
PS—Please tell me your day is going better than mine ...
Subject: Re: My Boss.
No, you haven’t already told me that you hate your boss today, but seeing as though you’ve sent me this email directly, I know now ...
Yes, I did ask you to pick up my dry cleaning the second you arrived to work to day. (Where is it?) And I did tell you to take my Jaguar to the car wash and pick up my thousand-dollar watch. (Thank you for taking five hours to do something that could be accomplished in two.)
You don’t have to wait two months from now to see the look on my face when you tell me you’re quitting. I’m standing outside your office at this very moment. (Open the door.)
No comment on your “fantasies,” although I highly doubt they’re “long over.”
Your boss,
Michael
PS—Yes. My day is definitely going far better than yours...
THE BOSS
Michael
Manhattan, New York
The last time my face was plastered across the front page of a tabloid, the headline was at least somewhat true. What I was currently staring at in this moment was beyond far-fetched, even for someone with a scandalous and sex-filled reputation like mine.
Playboy CEO of Leighton Publishing Leaves Woman Crying in Hotel Lobby After Hours of Loud Sex on Balcony
I flipped through the pages of The National Enquirer, skimming the details from the so-called “trusted source” while resisting the urge to roll my eyes. According to them, I’d had sex with this woman in the penthouse suite of a hotel and simply put her out so I could have sex with someone else. And according to the woman who’d clearly concocted this bullshit story, she said my exact words to her were, “Thank you for letting me fuck your pussy. It’s time for me to fuck someone else’s now. You can see yourself out.”
There was no mention of the fact that this very same woman was recently convicted for lying to a grand jury in a theft case, but tabloids were never interested in the truth. They only wanted to sell papers.
I managed to get through the entire article without a reaction, but I couldn’t help but laugh at the last line: Rumors are now swirling that the ‘naughty’ CEO engages in sex with two different women for every day of the week. He apparently keeps a private schedule for his sex-life.
I shook my head.
It’s only one different woman for every day of the week...
Tossing the tabloid into the trash, I remembered to send a generic text to the women I planned on seeing this week. There was Lisa on Tuesday, Mariah on Wednesday, Hannah on Thursday, and Tiffany on Friday.
Michael: Looking forward to seeing you this week.
Their responses came in exact succession.
Lisa: Looking forward to seeing you, too :)
Mariah: Can’t wait to fuck you again ...
Hannah: Let me know if you want to change it to an earlier day :)
Tiffany: Anytime :)
With a few minutes to spare until my six o’clock meeting, I set a box of potential front-list novels on my desk. I made two pots of coffee and opened new notepads. Then I impatiently waited for my executive assistant.
I’d long given up on her arriving early to meet me for anything because she was always five minutes late. She literally lived right across the street from the building and she never ceased to amaze me with her endless excuses as to why she couldn’t be on time.
Ten minutes past six, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Fifteen minutes past six, I wondered if my previous thoughts of her being the most incompetent assistant I’d ever had were true, and at twenty minutes past six, I caved in and called her desk.
“Yes, Mr. Leighton?” she answered on the first ring.
“Did you forget that we’re supposed to discuss the winter selections today?” I asked. “You know how I feel about things needing to be on time.”
“Oh, right! I am so sorry! I got caught up on these reports, but I’m on my way.”