Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 452(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
He repeated the question. “Why only two lovers?”
“I have five older brothers.” Who enjoy shooting people and think the county jail is their second home. “No one wanted to deal with them. I remained a virgin until college, where I met my two ex-boyfriends.”
“Abortions?”
I flinched as if he’d slapped me. “I’ve had one abortion.”
“Why?”
“I’d just discovered my boyfriend cheated on me. I had no money. I was at Harvard on an academic scholarship—”
Mr. Stone raised his hand to stop me.
I exhaled, but the guilt rose inside my core. I’d taken a life, due to inconvenience and my own stupidity from not taking my pills. The choice haunted me each time I thought about it.
God, will this interview ever end?
He snapped his fingers. “Are you with us?”
“Yes.” My voice screeched a little.
“What’s going on with your hair?”
Black kinky curls teased my shoulders. “I wear my hair natural. I don’t believe in damaging hair with unnecessary chemicals.”
He turned to the redhead. “What’s the African American actress’s name who just won an Emmy?”
“Sally Nayson.” She pulled out a thin silver phone. “Do you want me to make Ms. Montgomery a hair appointment?”
Excuse me?
“Yes. Make sure it’s one of my mother’s salons,” he said. “Have them do whatever that actress has done to her hair and have them fit Jasmine in for tonight.”
“Okay, Chase.” She stood up, typed on her phone’s screen, and marched away.
“Umm . . . the actress has a perm,” I muttered. “Perms are chemical hair products.”
Mr. Stone ignored me. “Congratulations. You’ve got the job.”
All the panel members rose from their chairs and left one by one. My stomach coiled with exhilaration and uncertainty.
Hair appointment? Tonight?
I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.”
“Call me Chase.”
“Thank you, Chase.” I formed my fingers into little fists and dug my nails into my palms. “I’m really happy to accept the job, but I’m wondering about the hair—”
“The woman who’s making your hair appointment is Lucy. She’ll also take you shopping tonight and will be training you for the next three months.” He rose and towered over me. “You’ll only deal with her or me. Don’t interact with other employees in the building. We’ve had some fatal outcomes with my past assistants. I don’t want those types of endings to be your fate.”
“What happened?”
The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Lucy will explain.”
Suspicious. I’ll ask her about it when I tell her I’m not perming my hair!
“You’ll receive a low salary during your training.” He unbuttoned his jacket, took it off, and slung it over the back of his chair. “Around $185, 000 for the first year.”
I choked on my saliva and coughed several times into my hands.
Fine. Maybe. . .I’ll perm my hair.
“After three months, I’ll decide if you remain my assistant or not.” He walked around his desk with fluid movements that emitted pure confidence.
I rose and he halted three feet in front of me.
A spicy cologne drifted from him and reminded me of the scent of new leather mixed with vanilla.
Goodness.
Chase was as tall as my brothers, and they were all over six feet. He extended his hand, wrapped satin fingers around mine, and encased my skin in heat.
“Spend time with your family and friends this weekend.” He tightened his grip. The added pressure didn’t hurt, but I knew he had power in that hold. “When Monday morning arrives, you’re mine. There are no sick days or time off unless I say so. Other than that, you sleep and eat when I do. You’re issued an iPhone. You miss my call and you’re fired. I don’t care if it’s 3:00 a.m., your mother is in the hospital, and you’ve just been attacked. I am your god.”
What?
I gazed into his green eyes and waited for the punch line.
An unnerving quiet thickened the space.
He pulled me in closer until only two inches stood between us.
“Say it,” he said in a low voice.
Shock coursed through my veins.
“What do you want me to say?” I shifted my focus to his broad shoulders. Since he’d taken his jacket off, I could now see the muscles in his arms stretching his white shirt.
Rich, young, sexy, and flawless skin. Nobody’s that perfect. His penis must be an inch long.
He licked his lips. “Look at me.”
Swallowing, I followed his order.
Our eyes met. And there came a look from him that froze me in place, one that dizzied my brain and made me sway. It was like alcohol poisoning to the bloodstream, and I felt like a drunkard on his tenth shot, realizing it was too late for salvation and certain of keeling over to the ground.
What the hell am I getting myself into?
No hint of humor skittered across his expression. “Say, ‘I. Am. Your. God.’”
Any other time I would have laughed, but when it came to my financial situation, I held my mocking inside. Those four words, I am your god, guaranteed a six-figure salary—one I thought I wouldn’t reach until my fifteenth year of working.