Page 5 of Resisting the Temptation
I scrub a hand over my neatly trimmed beard. “If she worked her ass off in school, why did it take her so long to graduate? Most people graduate with their bachelors at twenty-two, twenty-four at the latest. You said she’s twenty-seven. That’s a long time to be in school.” Now I’m just grasping at straws to findsomethingto stop this nonsense.
Josh is silent for a minute, which is odd. He’s usually extremely eager to share information. A total gossip.Something I usually hate, but now that I want information, he chooses to stay quiet.
He clears his throat from the other end of the line. “It took her a while to figure out what she wanted to do, so she just kept switching majors until she found one that clicked.” There’s definitely more to the story, but I’m not one to pry information not willingly given, so I let it go.
“What makes you think she won’t change her mind about this?” If she couldn’t even pick a fucking major, how do I know she’s not going to get bored with project managing and leave us in the lurch when she realizes how boring it can be?
“Emma doubled down on classes when she figured out she wanted to get into construction management. Before she decided, she was only taking two classes a semester, but in the last few years she’s taken four or more. As soon as she graduated, she started applying for jobs, but you’ve seen how people treat women in the industry. Especially when they don’t look the way they think someone in this field should look. She’s all pinks and flowers and girly. No one wanted to give her a chance.”
I hate to sound like a misogynistic asshole, but that’s another hangup I have with Emma working here. Not necessarily the fact she’s a woman, but from what Josh and Daniel have told me, she’s a sunshiny girly girl. I don’t need some frilly woman working here and distracting the other PMs or our crews when we’re on job sites.
I don’t need someone trying to worm their way into my life and trying to be my friend. I come here toworknot to make friends. If I want Papà to trust me to takeover the company in a few years, I need to keep my mind focused on quality projects—not “friendship.”
“Papàmade me promise to give her a month.”
I swear I canhearJosh’s smile. “You won’t be let down, Ben. I promise. I wouldn’t have gone to your dad if I didn’t know for a fact Emma would thrive there. This is going to be a good thing for everyone involved.”
Doubtful. “I hope you’re right.”
We agree to have dinner soon and catch up, then hang up so we can both get some work done.
I roll my shoulders trying to ease some of the tension in them. I’ve been under so much stress lately and haven’t had a chance to blow off steam. Maybe it’s time for me to make a visit to the club.
Chapter 3
Emma
They say everyone you know is battling something you can’t see, so you should always be kind.
If that’s the case, then this douchebag is battling a severe case of fatphobia with an added diagnosis of dominant-dysphoric-disorder.
About a year ago, I stumbled upon a romance book that was kinky as hell. It did things to my brain—and my body—and I started researching BDSM, wondering if it’s something I would enjoy. At first, my purity culture upbringing got the best of me and made me feel dirty for wondering what it’d be like to be tied up or handcuffed. To be spanked, spit on, and used like a toy.
It took me about a week of research and internal pep talks to get over the feeling of being dirty, just like it took me a while to not feel dirty about the fact that Ilovesex. A lot.
After the initial hang ups, I spent the better part of last year learning as much as I could before I finallygot the courage to sign up for a BDSM dating app last week—despite my anxieties surrounding dating apps in general—and agreed to drinks with Carl, who says he’s an experienced Dom.
I’m pretty certain he lied.
He started off by telling me I was only to refer to him as “Master” for the duration of our date, then proceeded to go into detail about the workout and diet plan he would put me on as his submissive. He tried to order me a drink, and when I refused, he told me there would be consequences for not following the rules.
Hard fucking pass.
He’s in the middle of telling me all about his preferences, but he hasn’t asked me a single question or let me speak.
There are Dominants, and then there are the men who think they’re “alphas” or whatever, but they’re actually man-babies who think the world owes them everything. Carl is the latter.
I swallow the rest of my mojito and put up a hand to halt his spiel of why he only fucks a woman if she’s tied up.
“Listen, Carl, it sounds like you’re about one wrong move away from being arrested. I don’t think this is going to work out between us, so I’m going to go. Best of luck in your search for a human blowup doll.”
Carl rears back as if I’ve slapped him. “Bitch.You’re not going to make a very good sub if you talk back like that. Good luck finding someone who will want to train your fat ass.”
I push out my bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “If your dick couldn’t fit past my ass, just say that. I can beso goodfor the right person, you just aren’t them. Goodbye, Carl.”
I walk out of the bar, leaving the douche to pay for my drink. It’s the least he can do after the pain he put me through—and not even the fun kind.
I’m about to order an Uber when Jordan’s name flashes on my screen.
