Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Bye.” I wave and then glance one last time at Taylor, who hasn’t bothered to say a word to me. It still stings that he hasn’t had the decency to introduce us officially.
“What should we do for dinner?” I ask Oliver as we get to the front door.
“Pizza,” he automatically says. It’s his favorite food.
“Done. Let me order it, and you can tell me all about your week.” He rushes inside, and I shut the door behind us. When I pull out my phone to order, I see another email from Soren.
Dear Hurricane,
Can I come over?
Your New Boss
I huff out a breath, then delete the email.
Nope, that’s not happening.
While I place the pizza order, Oliver starts telling me about his week, then all about Taylor.
“Do you like her?” I ask as I get us some drinks.
He shrugs. “Yeah. She’s all right, I guess.”
“That’s good.” And I mean it. I want Noah to be happy, and I want whoever he’s with to like my son and treat him well.
A knock sounds on my door, and I leave Oliver playing Fortnite on his Nintendo Switch as I walk to the door. When I pull it open, I’m expecting the pizza delivery person, so my attention is on pulling cash out of my purse.
“Hurricane.”
I look up at Soren standing there, and my mouth opens in shock. He reaches out and presses two fingers under my chin to gently close my mouth. “I know I’m good-looking, but dropping your mouth open like that should only happen when you’re on your knees…” He pauses. “In front of me.”
I take a quick glance behind me to make sure Oliver didn’t follow me, then look back at Soren.
“You should leave,” I say.
“You ignored my messages.”
“I’m with my son,” I inform him. “When I’m with him, he’s my sole focus.”
“Reply back, then.”
Just then, the delivery guy arrives. Soren turns to him, and as I grab the money to pay him, Soren has already handed over a wad of bills and has taken the pizza box. Then he turns back to me and smiles.
“I can pay for my own food,” I grumble.
“I know you can, but think of this as an apology for interrupting your night.” He holds out the box to me, and I take it.
“Don’t come here again.” I raise a brow at him as I step back into my home.
He just smirks as I shut the door.
Asshole.
The following week, I arrive at Soren’s office for the meeting he had requested about the job offer. His receptionist recognizes me and tells me to go straight in. When I push open the door, he’s talking to someone on the phone as he clicks away on his keyboard, staring intently at the screen. When he notices me standing there, he raises a finger, indicating for me to wait as he finishes his conversation. He tells the person on the other end to get it done and ensure there are no fuckups. Otherwise, it’ll be their job on the line. Then he proceeds to hang up on them.
I now have his full attention as he stands. He strides around his desk and comes toward me. I think he’ll stop in front of me, but he passes me and goes to close the door, shutting us in his office. That’s when I glance over my shoulder to find him staring at my ass. He has no shame whatsoever. Is he wondering if his handprint is still there? It had lingered as a bright, stinging reminder on my skin for a few days, but I don’t want to give him the pleasure of telling him that.
He indicates that I should take a seat. I do so, and he follows, retaking his seat behind his desk. I cross my legs, the hem of my knee-length skirt riding up just a fraction. My blouse is done up, so no cleavage is showing. My hair is in a high ponytail, and I’m wearing red-soled shoes. I look and feel professional.
“Miss Knight.” He eyes me.
“I’m here, Soren. What do you want to discuss?”
“The offer I sent you. Have you had time to think about it?” he asks.
“I have.”
“And?
“I have a few requirements,” I say, smiling.
“Of course you do. And what are they?”
“When I’m in the newsroom, you will not enter.” I keep my smile on my face as I speak.
“You expect me to stay out if I’m needed?”
“No. If you’re actually needed, that’s acceptable. I don’t want you hovering around checking on me,” I tell him. “You’ve obviously done your research and know I’m good at what I do. I did manage a newsroom once while I was still working on other stories.”
“Yes, Miss Knight, I am well aware of how good you are.”
I continue listing my requirements. “No touching me or making smart remarks in the workplace.”