Page 18 of #Bossholes

With Colin’s surgery on the line, I’m desperate.

A few days ago I’d have said hell no, but now I can’t help but consider it. If it’s a real thing, that is. My virginity is a problem—Brian was kind enough to point that out. But what if it didn’t have to be? What if I could kill two birds with one stone? What if I could get enough money to pay for surgery and get some real in bed experience at the same time? Then I could try to date without this black cloud hanging over my head, without hearing Brian telling me I’m as stiff as a board.

It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.

To be fair, it’s not the best either.

No.

I can’t do it.

It would be wrong.

Immoral.

I’m sure something like that doesn’t exist.

“Ohhhh, I had a client tell me she did this a few years ago. I can’t remember the name of the website, but she created a profile, uploaded a few pictures, and when the auction went live,she sold her virginity to an actual prince. Rich guys pay top dollar for untouched pussy.” Daisy smirks, lowering her voice a few octaves. “Apparently his dick was the size of my pinky and he lasted about two minutes, but the money was worth it.”

Well, it existed a few years ago, but things change all the time. Sites like that are probably illegal. They get shut down all the time. There’s no way it’s still around. I’m sure it’s not an option.

But if it was…I could sell myself to a prince. Two minutes isn’t exactly a long time. It’d be over in a snap. A hundred and twenty seconds. It takes longer than that to brush my teeth. I wouldn’t even have to spend the night in a hotel room. I’d be in and out in under an hour.

Maybe this really isn’t such a terrible idea.

ELEVEN

Brantley

I’m fucking exhausted.This has been the longest day ever. Between the inept new secretary, the emails piling up, the countless phone calls I had to answer while my brother and Maverick fawned all over said secretary, and this late night meeting. I’m done.

And, of course, it’s raining. Okay, sprinkling, but still as inconvenient as it is annoying.

Usually, I wouldn’t care. Usually, my driver would be taking me home, but because this day is fucking terrible, he’s sick. I’m pretty sure you can drive with the flu, but not everyone works as hard as I do. It’s an inevitable truth I accepted years ago.

Again, annoying.

I turn the corner, run a hand through my damp hair, and come to an abrupt stop as someone steps directly in front of me. Figures. Blowing out a deep breath, I bristle, my frown setting in as another wave of irritation flows through me.

“Excuse me. I’m so sorry.”

Speaking of the inept secretary.

For the life of me, I can’t remember her name, which is slightly inconvenient seeing as how she’s standing in front of me wide eyed, blocking my path.

“Mr. Ellis.” My name sounds breathy, like a whisper between…between what? Lovers? That’s as ridiculous as her outfit, a retro looking dress with a black button-up top that flares out to a white skirt with lace butterflies sewn all over it. Ridiculous yet hugs her curves perfectly.

Objectively speaking because otherwise it would be very inappropriate to note.

“Miss…” I let the word hang between us, hoping it sparks something, but nope, still can’t remember who the hell she is, so I quickly pivot. “Do you always walk aroundalonedowntown in the dark?”

“Who says I’m alone?” Her brow quirks, and those plush lips of hers twitch.

I really need to stop noticing these things about an employee. It’s unprofessional and wait, did she say she’s not alone? Is she on a date? On a Tuesday night? Does she know it’s the middle of a work week? Or maybe she’s one of those free spirits and doesn’t care that she has to be up early for work tomorrow. I saw the collection of pens on her desk, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s it. I believe today was Throat Punch Tuesday, something I don’t want to be on the receiving end of.

While I appreciate the humor, the office isn’t the best place to display such things.

Let’s hope she shows up on time tomorrow and is ready to put in a full day. I already have three days worth of work to get done, and I will not tolerate sloppiness because she wants to have a weeknight romp in the hay.

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