Part of me had almost expected him to pick something revealing, but once I saw the dress, I realized it made more sense for it to be conservative. I suspected Mr. White didn’t want me wearing something too sexy in front of all his employees tonight. I just wondered if that was his way of trying to avoid workplace flirtation, or if it was his way of keeping me for himself.
The latter thought should’ve pissed me off, but I didn’t entirely hate the little game of cat and mouse he seemed intent on playing. I just hoped he didn’t mind finding out that if I was the mouse, I was the type of mouse who bit back.
We swung through a coffee shop, and I saw that, sure enough, I had a detailed email with his exact coffee order. Somehow, the man needed a paragraph to explain that he didn’t want anything in his coffee. It was mostly a bunch of assurances that he’d make me regret it if I didn’t personally watch to make sure they didn’t tamper with his coffee. I did appreciate the brief post note demanding that I get something for myself with the card Harvey had supplied. He’d even had me get something for Harvey, but he managed to taint any potential kindness in the act by assuring me I’d need the caffeine to survive the day ahead of me.
I thanked Harvey once he dropped me off at the offices and made my way to Mr. White’s office with his coffee. Nobody else was in yet, and his light was the only one on when I entered the room.
I knocked on his door and waited.
He pulled it open, looking sharp, as usual. I thought I could smell his shampoo or soap drifting from his freshly washed body and did my best not to dwell on the image of him in the shower that popped into my head.
“You’re late.”
“It’s not even six in the morning.”
He looked at the coffee in my hand, took it, then had the nerve to pop the top and sniff it. “There’s no sugar in this, right?”
I glared. “I watched the girl from the moment she poured the cup, just like you asked. She poured coffee, put the lid on, and handed it to me. I then proceeded to guard this cup with my life from any rogue grains of sugar that could’ve found their way into your cup.”
Mr. White took a sip, then nodded. “Good. I want you to taste this,” he said, offering the cup to me.
“What? Why?”
“Because this is how my coffee should taste every time. I want you to be able to know if they burned the beans or undercooked them.”
I looked at the cup. “This isn’t very sanitary.”
Mr. White’s eyes blazed, and I couldn’t decide if it was anger flaring up in them or something more dangerous.
I cleared my throat, then drank after him. It brought me back to my middle school years in fancy prep schools. I’d had my first brush with hormones when a boy at my table asked me if I wanted the last of his soda. I’d been scandalized and excited at the idea of drinking after him, and I thought I’d left that innocence behind. Apparently, Mr. White brought me back to the basics, because when I put my mouth to the cup, every atom in my body lit up.
I made the mistake of raising my eyes to meet his while I was drinking, and I decided it wasn’t anger there. He looked hungry, and not for a croissant. He wants a bite of your biscuit. Anastasia’s words popped into my head, and I sputtered, spitting the foul-tasting black coffee out.
I wiped my mouth, wincing at the taste and trying not to laugh at the memory of what Anastasia had said. Then all the humor drained from me when I saw Mr. White’s perfectly white shirt was now an unfortunate white and brown polka dot pattern.
“It tastes bad,” I whispered. I tried not to make eye contact, but I could feel him glaring straight through my soul.
Mr. White unbuttoned his shirt and his tie. He had on a thin, sleeveless shirt beneath. He pulled off the dress shirt and handed both the tie and dress shirt to me. “Go wait outside. I’ll have Harvey pick you up and I want you to get these dry cleaned.”
I couldn’t help ogling his body. I thought I understood he was in good shape from the view I’d had through his dress shirts. But I didn’t expect the eyegasm of smooth, tanned skin, tattoos, and just the right amount of lean, defined muscles. My eyes lingered on his chest, where I could see the darkened shape of his hard nipples pressing into the fabric just above the outline of abs.
“Or,” he said, voice a low rasp. “You could keep staring at my chest until the stain sets into my shirt and tie.”
I jumped. “S-sorry.” I started for the door.
“Miss Adams.”
I turned, clutching his damp shirt that smelled disturbingly good, even with heavy overtones of spit out coffee now tainting the aroma. “Yes?”
“It tastes better if you swallow it.”
Don’t say it, Jules. Don’t you dare say it. “Okay,” I managed.
As soon as the door was closed, I let out a breath I’d been holding. “That’s what she said,” I whispered.
“I can hear you,” Mr. White called through the door.
* * *
I was exhausted by the time the office party came around. It was seven in the evening, I’d skipped dinner to make sure I finished the calls Mr. White needed me to make, and I was running on fumes. If the human body was sixty percent water, I thought today, mine might be fifty percent water and ten percent caffeine. I’d been chugging coffee like it was medicine, and my head was buzzing even as I was struggling to keep my eyes open.
So far, all the employees at Coleton Publishing treated me like I was a leper. I wondered if Mr. White had warned them, or if they just knew how quickly he went through personal assistants and didn’t want to get attached. Either way, it was a lonely job, and the best I got as people headed out to get changed or get dinner before the party were stiff goodbyes or little nuggets of small talk.
I still hadn’t made a single work friend.
I let my forehead sink down and rested it on my desk, closing my eyes. I thought maybe I could sneak a five-minute nap. I’d just drift off gently and take a quick, dignified cat nap. Once I’d recharged a little, I’d change into the dress Mr. White got me and-
A loud, ear-splitting snore startled me awake. I wiped at a little puddle of drool on my thigh, then realized I’d fallen asleep hard.
I also saw Mr. White standing in front of my desk with his arms folded. “You’re not dressed. And you snore.”
“Somebody woke me up at the asscrack of dawn to make me get a new dress when I have a perfectly good outfit at home.”
“But you liked the dress, didn’t you?” he asked.
I sighed. “Yes. But I’m human, Mr. White. I can’t work all day and into the night for you and get up at four in the morning. I’ve got to sleep at some point. And eventually, I might even like to get to resume my social life.”
He didn’t respond right away. “You’ve got a boyfriend? Is that it?”
“What? No. I just like to have time to do things other than work. I don’t see how this is sustainable. I’ve been here for a couple days and I’m already running thin.”
“You’ll adjust.” He hooked his thumb toward the double doors behind him. “The party started. I need you in there.”
“Where am I supposed to change?”
“Everybody is already at the party. Just change at your desk.”