His Terms

The phone rang, drawing her out of her musing and murderous thoughts.

“Hartford office, how may I help you?” Sorcha said and turned toward her computer to enter in the information the caller gave her. “Mr. Hartford just came in, but I’ll certainly pass the message along.” She glanced up when she heard the heavy footfalls coming from the other side of the doors, and then watched them open wide. Rian had this annoyed look on his face as he held the memo she had set on his desk just this morning. For a man so electronically and technologically advanced with his real estate and entrepreneur businesses, he was all about getting his daily schedule in the form of paper on his desk. But Sorcha had a feeling he made her do it because he knew damn well the annoyance he caused her by having her write his messages down by hand day in and day out.

“I said push back the Anderson meeting to ten,” Rian all but growled before stopping right in front of her desk. He slammed the memo right in front of her, and the small items on her desk rattled from the force of his actions.

Sorcha ended the call and put the phone back on the receiver. She stared at the man that infuriated her on a daily basis. God, he was gorgeous, and she hated him even more because of it. There also had to be a sick part of her deep down inside because hearing him use his “pissed” voice did something between her thighs. She tingled, grew wet, and felt this undeniable need to have him bark out orders to her while she was in nothing but her flesh. There he stood, in that damn suit and bowtie, his nostrils flaring because she had yet to respond, and then crossing his arms in impatience. She didn’t know anyone that even wore bowties anymore, but she couldn’t deny that he made something that sounded silly, look really damn good.

“Well, Miss. Case?” he gritted out, and there was that flash of assholishness that had her thinking about reaching up and wrapping her hands around his too perfect neck and squeezing hard. Everything about him was too damn perfect. From his dark hair that was brushed stylishly away from his forehead, to his hard, square jaw, and perfectly placed eyes, nose and full lips. Hell, the man was GQ personified.

If she didn’t need this job so damn badly, want Rian like a damn fiend, and if her friend, Cora, hadn’t gotten her the position, she would have left.

No, you wouldn’t, because for as much as you are irritated with him, there is this pull you have to Rian that makes you a masochist to his sadistic tendencies.

“Mr. Hartford, remember, I explained that Mr. Anderson couldn’t push the meeting back.” She stared into his blue eyes, and willed herself not to snarl out the words. “You’ve canceled two other times, and agreed to do it this morning.” This man was a cocky bastard deep down, a man that she would have slapped on any other occasion just from the expression he wore most of the time.

He picked up the memo and crumpled the sheet in his hand before tossing it on her desk again. “If I can’t count on you to make sure my appointments are scheduled when I need them, then I’m not sure what good you are to me.”

Her anger rose. She had kept her mouth shut these last six months, worked through his tirades, because she needed this job like she needed to breathe. It wasn’t easy finding a decent paying job in New York, especially when she had money problems of her own. But she was done with this. She knew he had gone through four other secretaries before Sorcha had started working for him. So, it wasn’t just her, because this man brought infuriating to a whole other level.

“You…” She bit her tongue, and stood, staring at him as hard as he was staring at her. He cocked a dark eyebrow, clearly waiting for her to finish.

“Something on your mind, Miss Case?”

She bit her tongue when she saw him smirk ever so slightly.

“Just do your job, or I’ll find someone who can.” He turned from her before she could respond, and slammed the doors shut behind him.

“You asshole,” she said under her breath and sat back down. Thank God it was Friday, because her friend, Cora, was taking her out for a good, hard drink.

2

Rian had heard Sorcha call him an asshole, and he couldn’t help but grin despite his anger. The woman infuriated him, but not because she was incompetent. She was the opposite, and always had everything in order. To be honest Rian had never found a secretary that picked up as fast as Sorcha had. But he didn’t want to think of Sorcha Case as anything more than what she was, because wanting her in his bed, under him, and his cock buried in her curvy little body was not a line he even wanted to cross.