Page 41 of One Taste
“Sebastian.”
He turns around and walks toward his desk, leaving me standing with my arms still across my chest. He plops down in the leather executive chair, digging through the desk drawers until he pulls out a pen and notepad.
“What are you doing?”
Besides infuriating me.
“Writing your rules down so I don’t forget.” He is not only infuriating, he’s also an ass.
“Forget it.” I walk over to the desk, snatching the pen and notepad out of his hand and tossing it down on the desktop. My irritation is now at an all time high.
“You’re not taking this seriously, Sebastian. Can we please not joke around for two minutes?”
“Fine, fine. I’ll stop, but you’re cute as hell when you get mad.” He teases me. “I get it. We don’t talk about what happened, no more playful banterin front of people, and keep it professional. See, I listen.”
“I’m sure you can. How about you listen to Madison and take me over to HR, or should I just find it myself? I can’t spend all day tied up with you in this office.”
“You can, but you won’t.”
“I can’t.”
“Life is all about choices, Devin,” he says, standing from his chair and walking toward the office door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns, looking at me over his shoulder. “I think it’s better if I walk you there. I know how much you like sneaking out when people aren’t paying attention. It’d be a shame if you didn’t even last the full first day.”
A smile sprawls my lips as I follow him out. Sebastian Brooks, under all his playboy personality and nine-inch dick, is bothered by the fact I skipped out on him.
Devin
Today has been the longestday in all my twenty-eight years. This is a first day for the record books. Every single part of my body feels riddled with knots, tension, and stress. I’ve been on edge all day because I’ve never imagined myself in a situation like this. This is definitely not one of the worst-case scenarios I’ve ever planned for. This is asinine. It’s like my life is one of those rom-com romance books, and the joke is surely on me.
SebastianfuckingBrooks.
Trudging up the stone steps to my front door, I fantasize kicking off my heels and having a glass… or twelve, of wine while relaxing on the couch.
Thanks to the bomb just dropped on my life, I have a lot of thinking to do on how I will make this situation work. By the end of the day, I wondered just how bad it could turn out. What if someone from the office discovers we slept together? What if they spread rumors that I got the job on my back? Something like that could be devastating to my career. It doesn’t matter I had no idea who Sebastian was or that he wasn’t the person to hire me; office bitches will say what they want to say, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I know more about office romance gossip than I’d like to admit. Working at so many companies over the past few years, I’ve seen it all. I can say with the utmost honesty that people can be terrible. I’ve seen employees tormented for sleeping with the boss—both men and women. What I’ve seemed to notice is people get jealous when they find out someone is banging the head honcho. They act as if the bangeereceives special treatment from the banger. In most cases I’ve seen, there wasn’t favoritism during work hours, but I can’t speak for outside office hours.
Having to deal with any politics like that has my stomach turning. I can hold my own, but it doesn’t mean I want to.
Before I even get two feet through the door, Brielle bum-rushes me. A blur of blonde and pink dashes through the living room into the foyer like Sonic the Hedgehog on crack.
“Was he just as hot in person? Did you swoon? Please tell me his voice is as sexy as the rest of him?” She pants, out of breath from speaking so fast.
Why, oh why, does everything in my life revolve around Sebastian Brooks? I can’t even escape him at home. Once she discovers who he is, she will upgrade from Sonic on crack to the Road Runner on Red Bull.
I let out a sigh, knowing that no matter what, I will spend my evening talking about Sebastian. It’s as if I can’t escape him in my mind either. He seems to have taken up occupancy in there too.
“Can we at least have a glass of wine before we get into my fucked-up day?”
Her eyes widen. “He’s a total douche, isn’t he?” Her lips turn into a frown before she continues. “Why are the hot ones always dicks? It’s like they think they can do and say whatever they want because their looks put them up higher in the social status than the rest of us.”
I kick my heels off and bend over to pick them up. “Look who’s talking, Miss Playboy Centerfold. Your looks put you above us mere mortals with your bright eyes, toned legs, and perfect perky tits.”
My best friend is gorgeous but likes to pretend her presence doesn’t command the attention of every man in the room.
She flips me off and heads into the kitchen. I hear the clinking of glasses and know she’s being the friend I need after today. I place my bag on the end table and watch as she walks into the room, grabbing a bottle of wine from the wine rack on her way.
“I’m going to toss on PJs, then wine is coming.” She mimics the voice of Jon Snow, but I’m too exhausted to laugh.
