Billionaire Beast

“Thanks so much for coming in today,” he said as she dropped the last file in and closed the door. “I—we, I mean, think you did great.”

“You already said that,” I said. “But you did, Daisy. Great job.” Did I sound sarcastic? I wasn’t meaning to be, but it was hard not to make fun of Jonathan a little bit.

“Well, thank you, both of you,” she

said. “Should I come in earlier tomorrow?”

“That’s fine. Nine o’clock is good. Don’t worry about bringing me a coffee.”

I watched as she got her stuff, said goodbye to us two more times, and then finally left.

“So,” I said, once Daisy’s behind had disappeared from view. I glanced at Jonathan, who was also looking after her, puppy dog eyes on full display. For fuck’s sake. “How did the little bloom’s first day go?”

“Huh?” Jonathan said when he was finally able to yank his gaze away from the door she just exited. “Bloom?”

“Yeah . . . her name’s Daisy . . . flowers . . .” I waved my hand. “Never mind. How’d it go?”

Jonathan nodded enthusiastically. “She’s great, man. You didn’t make a mistake giving her the job. I mean, yeah, Lynn probably would’ve done fine, too, but she was kind of . . . I don’t know . . . prickly? That’s the vibe I got from her.”

“And you definitely don’t get that from Daisy.”

“No! She’s really enthusiastic. She wants to please.” He frowned. “That came out sounding wrong. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You should get your mind out of the gutter,” I said, which was laughable because Jonathan was about as Boy Scout as you could get.

“I wasn’t . . .” He let his voice trail off. “She was definitely a better choice than Lynn was. I know that for sure.”

“If she’s not, we can just fire her and go with number three on my list, who I believe was Charlotte.”

Jonathan blanched. Christ, he really was whipped.

Daisy’s second day on the job. Let’s see, what was she wearing today? Was that a wool skirt? A wool skirt that went past the knees? Why, yes, yes it was. And a blouse that was buttoned all the way up to the top button? Christ. I leaned against the door frame of my office and watched as she struggled with one of those five-gallon Poland Springs bottles. I could change one of those one-handed, but Daisy was obviously going to have much more of a challenge. She wasn’t completely devoid of muscle; underneath those clothes, I could tell there was a slender figure wrapped up in toned muscles—she probably did yoga or pilates—but she still wasn’t going to be strong enough to be able to easily get that thing on the cooler.

Her back was to me, and she was contorting herself over the bottle, trying to figure out the best way to heft it up without spilling it all over herself. That gray wool skirt made her ass look like a shapeless lump. Really? Freak in bed? What the fuck was Jonathan smoking? Unless it was like some sort of purposeful deception, like underneath that shapeless skirt she was actually wearing crotchless panties and a garter belt, which, even I had to admit was hot.

Her calves, though. They were shapely, tapering down to rather delicate looking ankles.

I cleared my throat. “You need to bend your knees,” I said, “or you’re going to pull a back muscle.”

She jumped and turned, smoothing her skirt down as she did so. “Oh!” she said, her face reddening. “I didn’t realize you were there.”

“Need some help?”

“No, no, I’ve got it under control . . .” She looked at the water bottle disdainfully.

“Uh-huh,” I said dryly. “Look, it’s okay if you need to ask for help once in a while. I know this is technically your job and everything, but it’d be better to get one of the guys to do it instead of throwing your back out and not being able to come in for a month.”

She made a face when I said “one of the guys” and yanked at her skirt, set her jaw, and shook her head. “I’ve got it,” she said.

I held my hands up. “By all means, then.” She had a look of determination on her face that wavered slightly when she looked back at the five-gallon bottle she was going to have to wrangle onto the dispenser.

“My offer still stands,” I said.

“I can handle it. I’ve got it.”

I stood back and watched. She didn’t “have it” by any stretch of the imagination, but it sure as hell was fun to watch. She grunted, she gritted her teeth, she wrapped her arms around the bottle in a bear hug, started to lift it up, made it halfway, but then realized there was no way she was going to be able to flip the jug over and get it onto the dispenser properly with her arms around it like that. So she lowered it back down, shooting a look in my direction to see if I was still watching. Which I was, of course. So far, this was the most exciting thing of the day.

“You don’t have to stand there, you know,” she said, brushing wisps of hair back from her forehead. Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that . . . You’re the boss here . . . you can do whatever you want, obviously. I just . . . I just think that I might have an easier time doing this if I didn’t have an audience.”