Tempted by the Billionaire (Forbidden Confessions 9)

He sends me a lopsided smile that tells me he’s teasing. “Maybe a little.”

I’m having more fun sparring with him than I should, and if he hires me, I have a feeling days in the office won’t feel much like work, but for now I clear our plates from the card table and stack them in the dumbwaiter, carefully sending them down. Then I follow to unload them.

Mr. Force said not to bother washing them, but it’s hardly a chore to shove them in the ungodly expensive dishwasher of some unpronounceable European brand. The cooking pans I did by hand before I went upstairs.

Since I also managed to toss together a quick, no-bake pie, I cut two slices and send it up the dumbwaiter, along with forks and napkins.

As I’m brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen, the lock on the front door clicks again. Moments later, I hear footsteps and turn to find Marcus Hunt standing in the kitchen.

“Here’s your phone.” He hands me a brand-new iPhone, along with a screen protector and a case. “It’s already been programmed. Your new number is written on the back of the box.”

“Thank you.”

He sizes me up with a dark stare. “You know he’s probably going to hire you.”

“That’s my goal.”

“And I think it would be a mistake.”

I bristle. “I’m perfectly qualified for this position.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m good at reading people, and I don’t trust you.” He surges closer, getting right in my face. “Look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t thought about him sexually.”

“That’s insulting,” I say, though I can’t stop the flush that splashes my cheeks. “I’m completely professional, Mr. Hunt.”

“You might be, but your thoughts aren’t. More problematic, neither are his. He doesn’t need you distracting him.”

“I’m only here to help.”

He looks me over, cocking his head to view me from the side. “In your clinging dress, swishing your pert backside every time you walk by? You may mean to help, but you won’t.”

This rude, judgmental prick is getting the best of my temper. I shouldn’t let him but… “Well, I’m still one up on you since you don’t mean to help at all.”

He narrows his eyes. “What does that mean?”

I bite back my scathing reply. If I tell this snake I know he’s slithering around Mr. Force’s feet, he’ll likely tell his boss I’m a problem—one he needs to show the door. Mr. Force has no way of knowing he can trust me, and I’ll find myself out on my ass.

“He’s supposed to be resting,” I improvise. “And you keep barging in, pushing him to do more work. It’s nearly seven. Let him be for the evening.”

The rise of his slashed brow mocks me with a silent you’re really going with that? “He told me to bring the office to him whenever duty called. But I don’t think that’s what you meant at all. Is there something you want to say, little girl?”

A lot of things, but I won’t let him goad me into tipping my hand. “You have no idea what I think, and don’t ever call me little girl again. It’s demeaning, dismissive, and incredibly unprofessional. If my business decorum isn’t perfect, people will chalk it up to my inexperience. What’s your excuse?”

“Chad needs an assistant to keep him organized between meetings, not a temptress to distract him on her knees.”

He did not just say that.

But his smirk says he totally did and he’s not sorry.

I drag in a deep breath and square my shoulders. “I’m auditioning to be his assistant, not a blow-up doll. If I’m successful, I will ask that you show me professional courtesy. If I’m not, I’ll suggest that you stop insinuating women are whores. Now excuse me. Mr. Force is waiting for coffee. He’ll see you tomorrow.”

I turn to pour us each a steaming cup and set Mr. Force’s in the dumbwaiter with our pie. Hunt’s silence behind me simmers with something I can’t place, but I know better than to hope it’s regret. Even Hades gives me an assist, rushing through the kitchen to rub against my ankles before hissing the insulting executive’s way.

Mr. Hunt frowns at the feline, then turns his scowl to me. “Chad will see me tonight. I have something he needs to sign.”

When he makes for the stairs, I cut him off, blocking his path and holding my mug of steaming coffee between us like a threat. “Leave the document with me.”

“It’s sensitive.”

“Then return tomorrow. But Mr. Force is done for the evening.”

“He won’t appreciate you butting in like this. It’s one way not to get hired.”

Hunt may well be right, but I’m not letting the prick swindle Mr. Force before I’ve found an opening to tell him what I overheard. “I’ll take my chances.”

The man sneers at me. If I get hired, I’ll have to watch my flank or he’ll be a thorn in my side. But when he curses under his breath and spins toward the door, I know I’ve won the battle.