The first time she came in for an interview, Nic's initial impression on her was sensible, and I told him it was the same for me.
It was a lie, though.
Then and now, every time I look at Mary, I can't seem to see what others see. Everyone keeps saying she's the picture of efficiency, but every time my gaze rests on her, all I see is a gift that I'm meant to unwrap...and taste.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Verhoff."
Her voice is sexy as fuck as always, and my jaw clenches. I need to fucking control myself now that Mary's about to be our full-time secretary.
"I was told you wanted to talk to me?"
I gesture to the pair of leather chairs across my desk. "Take a seat, Ms. Cavendish."
"Yes, sir."
Fuck.
I know she only means to be courteous like she always is, but every time Mary says those words, it has me fantasizing about her in the bedroom, and she's on her knees, naked and trembling, saying 'yessir' as I ask her to suck on my cock.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I shift in my seat as I attempt to banish the erotic image from my mind. Thank fuck my desk is large enough to hide my cock, now bulging and aching with arousal behind my pants.
My gaze stays on her as I rein myself in, but this doesn't seem to bother her. The other girls we previously interviewed for the job had resorted to blushing and tucking their hair behind their ears every time Nic or I look their way. Mary, on the other hand, has remained remarkedly poised and still on her seat, her lands clasped on her lap.
I suppose this means Scarlett's telling the truth then.
Neither Nic nor I are Mary's type.
And that's a good thing, I tell myself forcefully, so just get the fuck on with what you have to say, Stone Verhoff.
"Today is the last day of your probation period," I say brusquely, "and if you'd still like to continue working for us—-"
"I do."
"The job is yours then."
Her eyes widen. "Just like that?"
Mary's shock makes me crack a smile. "Did you expect us to fire you?"
"Yes."
Her frankness is a surprise, but maybe I should've expected it. Mary can be a lot of things, but I doubt she has it in her to be coy.
"If you need additional proof..." I hand Mary her contract, and the way she takes extra care not to let our fingers touch doesn't escape my notice.
"Thank you for this, Mr. Verhoff. I promise I won't make you or Mr. Verhaege regret your decision."
"I know I haven't exactly been the most approachable boss to work for," I say gruffly, "but you've done a great job, and I'm glad Mr. Johnson sent you our way."
"Thank you, sir."
"That's all then."
I watch her walk away, and all I can think about is how the exquisite plumpness of her ass is the one thing she's failed to hide, even with the perpetually loose fit of her clothes.
I know I'm not supposed to fucking stare, but I've always been an ass guy, and Mary's sweet, hot bottom has my cock throbbing so goddamn hard I know I'll be jerking myself off as soon as the door closes behind her.
FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.
It's been ages since I felt this attracted to a woman, but it doesn't fucking matter.
I still remember how much it fucking hurt when Jocelyn died, and I don't plan on letting something like that happen again.
Since then, I've only been fucking women who only want me for my money, and this early on I already know Mary isn't one of them. She might not be as stupid or naïve as the other twenty-two-year-olds out there, but I also know she isn't the type to have sex without her feelings involved.
It's not going to be easy, but I'll just need to figure out a way to only see Mary as my secretary and nothing else.
Three Years Later
Mary
Erotica authors are awesome...as a rule.
They're sweet and never catty, and they're also absolutely fun to hang out with, no matter the place and time.
But when erotica authors get into their heads that they need to throw you a surprise birthday party?
"I think I'm going home—-"
Francesca, being the loyal best friend that she is, simply bursts into laughter even as her mentor Elaine cracks out a command. "Stop right there, young woman!"
I wish I could ignore the older woman, but since I've been raised by an old-fashioned aunt who's drummed into my head that one must always respect the elderly—-
I reluctantly turn around—-and I'm once again confronted by the sight of dozens of men currently staring at...me.
Lord, have mercy.
"Do you know how much I've spent to rent this place?" Elaine barks out.
My brows furrow. Since this is the rooftop pool of a five-star hotel, and it's peak hour on a weekday, I'd say—-