Page 6 of Meow

"So, am I hired?" I stutter, reminding myself I came for a job, though I'm certain most interviews don't involve underwear displays.

"Say you'll do as you're told, no questions, and you're hired. That's all. Just say it." A muscle jumps under his eye, a telling twitch, and I think I may have an out when his gaze hardens and he repeats his order. “Say:I’ll do as I’m told, no questions.”

My lips part as I study his face, twitching my nose while weighing how far I'll go for this job.

For this man.

My pulse trips all over itself as I struggle to form words. "What if—" Defiance keeps me from submitting, and I swear something thick moves in his lap behind his dark trousers, making me involuntarily mewl before I can continue. "I mean, if you told me to shank Miss Pinch Face with this pen," I twist around, grabbing an expensive-looking pen from beside his phone, presenting it in my palm, "you'd expect me to do it without asking why?"

"Yes," he answers without hesitation. I should be terrified, but instead, I'm impressed. “Obedience is what I expect.”

Cats suck at obedience is all that comes to mind as I nod and he stands, taking measured steps my way. Heat pulses in front of him, sending a flush up my neck. I glance up at his towering presence, then down at another tower unmistakably tenting his trousers like a weapon aimed my way.

"I’m not good at waiting," he growls, in a tone that makes everything inside me clench and quiver.

He removes his jacket, tossing it beside me, then rolls up his sleeves in erotic slow motion, revealing Popeye forearms covered in old-world indigo ink tattoos—skulls, hearts, and—

Oh. My.Gowd.

Cats.

Not just one.Threethat I can see.

Does he like cats or is this like a symbol of something else? Like, cat sacrifice or gasp—how many cats he’s killed?

Conflicting emotions tangle my synapse into knots. I’m not sure if it’s fear or hope that has me blurting out, "I'll do what I'm told without questions. Anything. Everything." The words escape before I can stop them, palms slapping over my mouth too late.

Did I just agree to obey this mobster giant with his baseball bat erection?

He rubs massive hands together, lips curling into something resembling a smile as he leans down, his face inches from mine, coffee-scented breath making me wonder how his lips would taste. How warm his tongue would be slipping into my—

He cuts the thoughts short.

"You're hired."

Chapter Three

Duffield

Ican't keep my fucking eyes off her.

She’s turned my entire world upside down. Every minute she's not within arm's reach feels like I’m drowning. When she's near, blood rushes through my veins with painful intensity—a man resurrected after decades of numbness.

My little pink kitten moves through the office like she owns it. Those damned sparkly cat ears are bobbing up and down as she delivers files, making the other staff nervous as they note the way I’m shadowing her and giving anyone that comes within her orbit a death glare. They watch from a distance, whispering behind cupped hands.

Is that his new assistant?

How is she still alive?

Has anyone seen her cry yet?

I hear everything. They think I'm deaf as well as ugly.

Her black skirt teases me with those legs I imagine encircling my waist as I use her as my own private fuck doll. My cock hasbeen at half-mast since she sauntered in this morning, knocking my coffee cup off my desk with a smile that showed off the most perfect teeth God ever created.

"You're drooling," Ingrid announces, dropping into the chair across from my desk. I tear my gaze from Tabby, who's bent over the copy machine outside my glass-walled office, her ass practically calling my name.

"Fuck off," I growl, adjusting myself beneath the desk.

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