Bossy Mr. Frosty

That idea excites me.

It isn’t until he’s put several feet between us that reality comes creeping in. I’m shocked to discover we just shared whatever that was with the door standing open.

“You’re fired,” I blurt out, trying desperately to find the Adrian Frost I was just twenty minutes before I met Rylan Moore.

He laughs.

The confusing man laughs.

And rather than hate it, I decide right then, I might like to hear more of it.

Two

Rylan

Cold. Cruel. Hateful.

Sure, I’d heard the rumors buzzing behind the mysterious Adrian Frost, owner of Modern Times Life magazine. His magazine is a success, but the brilliance behind it comes in the form of an ice monster. The turnover at MTL magazine is laughable it’s such a high rate, especially his assistants.

And yet, I’m still here.

I have to be.

His company devoured my parents’ small social living magazine whole not six months after I graduated from high school and officially went to work there. Though they were prepared and ready to sell because of their age, I was devastated. I grew up running the halls of our small magazine company, learning everything from the compilation of articles to photography to advertising to sales. By the time I was sixteen, I held a full-time job doing more than most senior editors at big-time magazines do, and probably a helluva lot better. But it all ended the moment my parents gave in to the magazine giant.

I’m not necessarily out for revenge, but I do feel like he owes it to me in some way. He took away my future and my happiness, so it’s only fair he gives it back. I can suck it up and work for him. The man’s a genius and I can appreciate that. His personality needs work, though.

“Take a seat,” he grunts out as he walks over to the door and closes it.

I guess I’m not fired.

The finality of the door clicking shut sends a thrill straight to my dick. When I came to work here, I never expected to be so physically drawn to the cold bastard. I was prepared to go to war with him, proving how capable I could be. Instead, I got into a stare down match with him that ended with me seconds from giving him a hand job in his office.

Way to prove my worth.

I turn away from him, making my way over to his desk. He sucks in a sharp breath. We both take our seats. His back is straight and he steeples his fingers. Adrian reminds me of a gargoyle—kind of scary and motionless at times. Also kind of beautiful to look at when he’s perched in his domain looking down on everyone he sees as insignificant. His blue eyes are light and cold when you see pictures of him, but in person, they seem to be almost gray. They burn with intensity that I feel all the way down to my toes.

He’s hot.

There’s no other way to describe Adrian Frost.

I’m only lacking an inch or two on his six-foot frame, but everything about him is bigger. Based on what I’d observed trying to escape his slacks, that is bigger too. A thousand questions assault me all at once and none of them have to do with this job.

Is he gay too?

Does he have tattoos hiding under that suit of his?

Is he as commanding in bed as he is in the office?

Would he let me suck his dick?

He clears his throat. “Let’s start over. Why didn’t Connie introduce me if you’re our new hire?”

Straight to business mode and ignoring this crackling heat between us. As much as I want my boss to fuck me, I’m not stupid. This job is my dream job. Well, almost. I didn’t dream of being an assistant to the world’s meanest boss, but I did dream of proving myself at the biggest magazine in the city.

“Connie was quite…descriptive in my job duties and expectations. She mentioned you’ve been through many assistants in the past year. When she took me by your office to meet you, one peek inside was all it took for me to realize you were swamped. I asked her to just get me started and I would take care of you.” I grin at him. “I’m slaying it so far, right?”

His jaw clenches. “I tried to fire you.”

“Tried,” I say with a chuckle. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, silly.”

He bristles at my words. “I’m not silly. Stop calling me that.”

“That’s what makes it funnier,” I admit. “Your non-silliness, silly.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he lets out a long sigh. “I don’t have time for games. This is a mistake. I’m not—”

“Are you sexist? You don’t think a man could service you like a female could?” Though my words are meant for the job, his head snaps up, blue-gray eyes flashing with heat.