Page 1 of Office Match

1

Calvin

I’ve worked as CEO of Flawless for over five years now. The moment the previous owner, Griffin Snider, disappeared off the face of the earth, I encouraged my best friend Sean Anderson to buy into the business, and it was the best move I ever made. A little over a year ago, he became majority shareholder, and the business has since flourished.

There has always been speculation about Griffin and his wayward ways—the rumor mills rife with accusations of sexual indiscretions—that left a sour taste behind when he disappeared. It also helped me realize I could never mix business with pleasure—ever, no matter how tempting it may be.

Luckily for me, that’s not even in the realm of possibilities, as my secretary is so old she looks like she’s been dug up, and her assistant, Emily Thomas, who she’s essentially training for when she dies—because, let’s face it, it’s the only time she will leave here—is everything I wouldn’t want in a woman.

Sure, she’s easy on the eye, if you take away the snarky attitude and the permeant scowl on her face that makes me wonder if she needs sex to help loosen her up. She’s a ballbuster, a stickler for timekeeping, and clearly has some form of OCD. One time, I threw Post-it notes in the bin, and she practically exploded. I bet she’s shit in bed too, if she’s had sex at all. The way she walks so uptight, you know she’s never had a good fuck in her entire life. Maybe that’s what she needs for her to loosen up and crack a smile.

She never brings a date to work events, and she never shows the slightest bit of interest when I use my flirting skills. If anything, she seems put off.Yeah, she needs someone to give her a good fuck.I scoff. Like hell would I go there. I bet her pussy has teeth, and once she sinks them in, she refuses to release you. A grade A bunny boiler, next-level stalker.Ugh.I internally shudder at the thought.

“Are you sick?”

“Huh?”

Her brown wavy hair is tied back in a long ponytail that sways when she walks. She stares at me, her dark eyes glimmering with concern, before tsking as if I’ve caused her a problem. “I. Said. Are. You. Sick?”

I rear back in my chair. Just why the hell is she speaking to me like I’m an idiot. “Calvin, do I need to call someone for you?” She snaps her fingers in front of my face.

Call someone for me? Why the hell would she need to call someone for me?

“You did some strange shudder that made me wonder if you’re suffering from some kind of illness.” She scrunches her nose and turns her lip up.The color of her lipstick suits her, it’s a soft pink like the color in her cheeks. Cute.

Jesus, where the hell did that come from?

I scrub a hand down my face. “I did?” Maybe I am sick.

She walks around the desk on those ridiculous high heels and presses her hand to my forehead. Her touch jolts me, sending a flash of need through my body, and I can’t quite compute why.

“You’re hot.”

Holy fuck. Did she just call me hot?

“You think I’m hot?” My lips curl into a smile as I sit back in my chair. I knew she wasn’t immune to me.

EMILY

His face erupts into a cocky grin, and I want to smack it... and sit on it.

As much as Calvin Connors is a womanizing, self-entitled, rich prick who I can’t stand, even I can admit he’s hot. A shame he’s my boss and wouldn’t know his way around a woman’s body if it hit him in the face. The man’s mantra is to pump and dump, and after hearing that in the break room, I had to refrain from dumping my coffee over his head.

His chocolate eyes meet mine as he sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his muscular chest.

Of course he has to be sculptured within an inch of his life, anything but perfection has no place alongside Calvin. I almost want to roll my eyes at the thought. The women he “pumps and dumps” are like real-life Barbies: tanned to a particular shade of bronze that borders on orange, not a blemish on their made-up faces, and their hair so blonde the sunlight reflects off it, almost blinding you. I wonder if I’d be entitled to some form of workplace compensation if I made a claim for that.

“You’re not immune to me, after all.”

His words snap me out of my thoughts. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

He gestures toward me with an open palm. “You can’t claim sexual harassment in the workplace if you came onto me first.” His eyebrows furrow, and even I can admit the look of confusion on his face is cute.

I reel back and my eyes roam over his face, scanning it for any signs of sincerity. He’s joking, right?

“You said I was hot.” He clarifies, exposing his straight pearly whites.

I can’t help the jolt that rushes through me. “Ew! You think I’m into you?” Wow, heisdeluded. Maybe I should call someone, after all. I glance toward the door.

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