Page 75 of Hate to Love You
“That’s it! Jasmine, right?”
Fuck.
I tilt my head, widening my eyes as I lean forward, forcing my breasts together as I point to my new desk sign.
“Jasmine? No, I’m Abby.” I smile sweetly at him, watching his hungry eyes practically gawking at my tits.
But that’s exactly the distraction I’m hoping for, something that’s enough to draw his mind elsewhere.
He stares at me, the confusion clouding his eyes, “Ah, right. Sorry. Long week.”
I tilt my head toward the door, “He’s waiting.”
Oleg pulls at his shirt collar, the sheen of sweat visible under the fluorescent lighting as he swallows hard, the sound echoing in the empty space.
He runs his hand over his hair, before walking forward toward Roman’s office.
There’s no way for him to know, but Oleg Mikhailov has just signed his own death certificate.
How inconvenient.
I’ve worked here for two weeks, and I already have to kill someone.
Chapter Thirteen
ROMAN
“Sorry, that took so long,” I grumble, glaring at Oleg. “My man here just confirmed that the warehouse will be ready for your shipment. He was just…misinformed.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jaxon says. “So…when did you get a new assistant?”
“Recently,” I wave my hand, silently telling Oleg to get the fuck out of my office. “Let’s just say the last one had to go.”
“Ahh, I see. Well, my condolences. Staff turnover is always unfortunate,” he says, clicking his tongue. “But you know, I don’t remember the last one ever getting you so…worked up.”
“Fuck off, Pace,” I growl.
“What? She sounds very nice,” the cocky smirk on his face is evident even through the phone. “Don’t tell me the famous “Russian Rooster” is finally considering settling down with just one little hen?”
Somehow, the pencil in my hand mysteriously snaps in half, the splinters shattering all over my desk.
“No, he’s still just a cock who likes to leave the marriage and monogamy shit to old men,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “Like you, asshole.”
Jaxon laughs, a deep hearty chuckle that’s so unusual for him, and one that irritates me even more.
“Oh, man, I had no idea it was that bad,” he continues chuckling. “If that’s true, then you’re properly fucked, brother.”
I want nothing more than to be able to reach through this phone and strangle my old friend…but only because he’s right.
“Yeah, well that’s the beauty of not having just one woman who owns my balls,” I reply, my voice quiet. “I can always make sure I’m properly fucked.”
However, as I say this, Abigail bends over her desk, playing with her desk phone cord. As she does, her tight black mini-skirt strains to cover her round perky ass, and if she wasn’t wearing black tights, I might be looking directly at her pussy. In fact, I think I am.
Jesus Christ, is she doing this shit deliberately?
“What?” Jaxon asks. “Doing what deliberately?”
Fuck! I must’ve said that out loud!