Page 22 of Older Hotter Grumpier
“I don’t understand. Why do you want me to remain as your secretary?” she demands. “You’re always so critical. Some days, it’s just my mother all over again. I only want to make you happy, and you find fault with my work.”
I’m rocked back on my heels. She doesn’t know that she makes me happy? “Ella.”
“No.” She turns away.
“Ella, look at me.” I make my voice unyielding. Like the times when I couldn’t bear to spend an evening without her, so I made her redo work that was entirely perfect, just to have the excuse to put off her leaving.
She pouts but obeys.
“Such a needy little thing you are, my lovely girl.” I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “I didn’t realise you felt unappreciated. That ends now.”
She blinks up at me in disbelief.
“And I’m a selfish arsehole.”
That elicits a snort and a nod.
“Forgive me. I thought you knew from the way I want you with me constantly, that it was never about the quality of your work. That you’re everything to me. I find fault so you stay with me longer, and I can stave off the loneliness for another hour. And unlike your stupid parent, I would never let you go.”
“Really?” she asks doubtfully. Her lovely blonde hair glints in the streetlights. She’s practically a beacon herself, my sunshine dragon, even when she’s dulled by worry.
“You’re incredible. Beautiful. My perfect secretary,” I purr. “The sexiest woman I’ve ever known and the sweetest.”
“Oh.” Her mouth drops open. Then she returns to her pinched sadness. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to quit.”
“Nope.” I grab her waist and pull her to me, hard. So she can feel the full length of my erection pressing into that soft little belly of hers.
“I’m saying that because it’s true and I need you to smile as you take the whole of my big cock like a good girl.”
“Boss,” she pleads, sounding heartbroken. “I can’t do this. I quit.”
Panic flares in my heart. I’m not losing her. Never. “I’m offering you another job then.”
“I’m not going to take it.”
“Wife.”
“What?” Her eyes fly to mine, wide with surprise.
“Full pay. Benefits. Company car.” Love. Obsession. Breeding. I don’t mention those. I’m not sure it will help my case.
“But,” she splutters, and her laugh is hollow, with a bit of a hiccup. “Eighteen months and you’ve never made a single joke, Mr Blackwood. Then one evening and you make two!”
“It was at least three, but this isn’t a joke.”
“Don’t be mean,” she whispers, and looks away.
I grab her neck and gently but firmly push her jaw with my thumb until her eyes meet mine again. “I’m not joking. I’m offering you a position.”
“A job as yourfakewife,” she says so softly it’s barely audible.
I don’t need her to love me. I tell myself that, even as an ache in my gut reveals it as a lie.
“If that’s what you want it to be. But this job would be a full-time, permanent role. Twenty-four hours a day.”
“That’s the point, Mr Blackwood. I can’t…”
“Why not?” I demand. Anything. I’ll fix it.
