New York Nights
Page 158
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“It will definitely be more than ‘good’ and extremely enjoyable for you.”
“Are you referring to this job, Mr. Leighton?”
“What else would I be referring to?”
Silence.
“Um ...” She cleared her throat, taking another small step back. “Surely you, yourself, don’t sign contracts after only reading them once.”
“I would if it was a contract like this.”
She muttered something under her breath I didn’t quite catch, and then my desk phone rang.
Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I answered it.
“Yes?” I said.
“Hey.” It was Brad. “Glad I caught you before the Somerstein meeting. I just got a call from Hilton Corporate and gave them your direct line, so try to be available for their questions in a few hours. I already told them Mya was amazing, but they need a second, more direct reference. They want details I don’t have, so try to be specific.”
“I’ll definitely do that.” I hung up, still looking at Mya. “So, how much time would you need to look over my proposal?”
“A couple months should be enough.”
“Months?” I clenched my jaw.
“Yes.” She glared at me. “Months. Working for you for an extended period of time is a lot to think about.”
Silence.
“Fine.” I picked up the papers and returned them to my drawer. “You can get the hell out of my office now.”
She shook her head and glanced down at my pants, blushing before leaving the room.
I sat back down in my chair and shook my head. I was confused and upset at the fact that she’d not only blatantly lied to my face, but she was also refusing to admit she was seeking other jobs. That, and she was still getting under my skin with her sexy bullshit.
Then again, if she wanted to play games, I could do the same...
THE EMAILS
Mya Subject: The Ass-holery Report #235 (Can You Believe I’m Still Keeping Track of These?)
Today we’re supposed to go over the top literary fiction titles that will be rolled out in the spring. I emailed him my top picks LAST WEEK but since he “doesn’t remember,” he asked me to RE-DO the entire 200-page report in an hour. An hour!
Of course, I made way more than one copy of it, so I’m not really re-doing it, but fuck him.
Fuck him hard.
Your bestie,
Mya
PS—Is it sad that, ass-holeness aside, he still makes my panties wet more than once a week?
Subject: Re: The Ass-holery Report #235 (Can You Believe I’m Still Keeping Track of These?)
You mis-typed! We’re on ass-holery report #335, not #235! :) And BRAVO for making copies! Way to think smart!
Ugh, I can’t wait until you quit! I mean, wherever you end up next, you probably won’t get all those over the top benefits, but you won’t have to deal with him, so that’s more than a fair trade-off.
Your bestie,
Amy
PS—No, but only because you’re still sadly single.
Subject: His cock has to be at least nine inches ... (At least)
This is going to sound totally insane, but I swear this man was rock hard during my entire presentation today. Like, he had to be, and he had to know I was stealing glances at it because he sat in the back of the room, leaning back with his legs wide open, and he kept his eyes on me the entire time.
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: It has to be at least nine inches ... (At least)
You delete these emails, right? LOL I’ll take your word for the nine inches. I’m sure he didn’t earn his former playboy reputation for nothing....
Maybe you can give him a huge kick in his nine-inch cock before quitting?
Stay focused on leaving + start limiting these emails that compliment him and his cock. (Otherwise, you may start to subconsciously believe that you should stay there. O_o).
Your bestie,
Amy
THE ASSISTANT
Mya Manhattan, New York
I couldn’t believe that Mr. Leighton had the audacity to offer me an extended contract after the way he treated me, couldn’t believe that he’d included a mention of it in every one of his emails since the day he brought it up.
As I stared outside my town car window, I decided that I needed to tell him that I really was looking for another place of work. That it wasn’t personal, but I wanted to go someplace where I’d actually be appreciated.
And somewhere where he won’t be such a distraction....
The second the driver pulled in front of Leighton Publishing, my phone buzzed with his usual morning email.
Subject: What I Need Today.
Coffee. Stephen King’s new book. Reports for the two o’clock meeting. Your signature on the employment extension contract.
You’re welcome.
Michael Leighton,
CEO, Leighton Publishing
I sighed. I’d done my best to avoid that last line on all of his task requests, simply not addressing it via email or simply saying “I need more time to think about it,” if he brought it up during one of our meetings. And even though the sexual tension between us was at the highest levels it’d ever been, I couldn’t afford to let that cloud my judgment.
His overbearing sexiness was not a good enough reason to stay, and the odds of us having sex were slim to none. (Not that having sex with him was a good enough reason to stay either.)
After securing a copy of Stephen King’s newest book from Barnes & Noble and a cup of his favorite expensive coffee, I rushed inside the building and headed right up to his office.
I knocked against his door five times and waited for his familiar, “Yes?” before opening the door.
The second I stepped inside, I felt his deep brown eyes watching my every move, and I tried not to make eye contact as I walked over and set the book and the coffee on his desk.
“Is there something on your mind, Miss London?” He waited for me to look at him, and I finally gave in. “Any particular reason why you’re currently mumbling?”
“No, Mr. Leighton. It’s just—” I decided to be honest, to finally get this over with. “I’m not interested in signing the extension contract.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Are you referring to right now, or ever?”
“Ever.” I stepped back, waiting for his reaction, but there wasn’t one. His face remained stoic and he simply picked up his coffee and took a long sip.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Thank you for telling me. After you settle into your office, I need you pick up my dry cleaning from Midtown. There should be fifteen suits and twenty shirts in my name.”
What the hell? “Would you like me to pick up anything else?”
“Not at all.”
I forced a smile and headed toward the door. “Thank you for being understanding about the contract, Mr. Leighton.”
“Anytime, Miss London.”
I left his office and took the steps to my own, quickly printing out the two o’clock reports so I could save time since I had a new dry cleaning mission. As I was stapling the first set of sheets together, my phone buzzed with a new email from him.
Subject: Something Else I Need Today.
My Jaguar needs to be washed. Take it to the place I like in New Jersey, ten miles across the bridge.
“Are you referring to this job, Mr. Leighton?”
“What else would I be referring to?”
Silence.
“Um ...” She cleared her throat, taking another small step back. “Surely you, yourself, don’t sign contracts after only reading them once.”
“I would if it was a contract like this.”
She muttered something under her breath I didn’t quite catch, and then my desk phone rang.
Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I answered it.
“Yes?” I said.
“Hey.” It was Brad. “Glad I caught you before the Somerstein meeting. I just got a call from Hilton Corporate and gave them your direct line, so try to be available for their questions in a few hours. I already told them Mya was amazing, but they need a second, more direct reference. They want details I don’t have, so try to be specific.”
“I’ll definitely do that.” I hung up, still looking at Mya. “So, how much time would you need to look over my proposal?”
“A couple months should be enough.”
“Months?” I clenched my jaw.
“Yes.” She glared at me. “Months. Working for you for an extended period of time is a lot to think about.”
Silence.
“Fine.” I picked up the papers and returned them to my drawer. “You can get the hell out of my office now.”
She shook her head and glanced down at my pants, blushing before leaving the room.
I sat back down in my chair and shook my head. I was confused and upset at the fact that she’d not only blatantly lied to my face, but she was also refusing to admit she was seeking other jobs. That, and she was still getting under my skin with her sexy bullshit.
Then again, if she wanted to play games, I could do the same...
THE EMAILS
Mya Subject: The Ass-holery Report #235 (Can You Believe I’m Still Keeping Track of These?)
Today we’re supposed to go over the top literary fiction titles that will be rolled out in the spring. I emailed him my top picks LAST WEEK but since he “doesn’t remember,” he asked me to RE-DO the entire 200-page report in an hour. An hour!
Of course, I made way more than one copy of it, so I’m not really re-doing it, but fuck him.
Fuck him hard.
Your bestie,
Mya
PS—Is it sad that, ass-holeness aside, he still makes my panties wet more than once a week?
Subject: Re: The Ass-holery Report #235 (Can You Believe I’m Still Keeping Track of These?)
You mis-typed! We’re on ass-holery report #335, not #235! :) And BRAVO for making copies! Way to think smart!
Ugh, I can’t wait until you quit! I mean, wherever you end up next, you probably won’t get all those over the top benefits, but you won’t have to deal with him, so that’s more than a fair trade-off.
Your bestie,
Amy
PS—No, but only because you’re still sadly single.
Subject: His cock has to be at least nine inches ... (At least)
This is going to sound totally insane, but I swear this man was rock hard during my entire presentation today. Like, he had to be, and he had to know I was stealing glances at it because he sat in the back of the room, leaning back with his legs wide open, and he kept his eyes on me the entire time.
Your bestie,
Mya
Subject: Re: It has to be at least nine inches ... (At least)
You delete these emails, right? LOL I’ll take your word for the nine inches. I’m sure he didn’t earn his former playboy reputation for nothing....
Maybe you can give him a huge kick in his nine-inch cock before quitting?
Stay focused on leaving + start limiting these emails that compliment him and his cock. (Otherwise, you may start to subconsciously believe that you should stay there. O_o).
Your bestie,
Amy
THE ASSISTANT
Mya Manhattan, New York
I couldn’t believe that Mr. Leighton had the audacity to offer me an extended contract after the way he treated me, couldn’t believe that he’d included a mention of it in every one of his emails since the day he brought it up.
As I stared outside my town car window, I decided that I needed to tell him that I really was looking for another place of work. That it wasn’t personal, but I wanted to go someplace where I’d actually be appreciated.
And somewhere where he won’t be such a distraction....
The second the driver pulled in front of Leighton Publishing, my phone buzzed with his usual morning email.
Subject: What I Need Today.
Coffee. Stephen King’s new book. Reports for the two o’clock meeting. Your signature on the employment extension contract.
You’re welcome.
Michael Leighton,
CEO, Leighton Publishing
I sighed. I’d done my best to avoid that last line on all of his task requests, simply not addressing it via email or simply saying “I need more time to think about it,” if he brought it up during one of our meetings. And even though the sexual tension between us was at the highest levels it’d ever been, I couldn’t afford to let that cloud my judgment.
His overbearing sexiness was not a good enough reason to stay, and the odds of us having sex were slim to none. (Not that having sex with him was a good enough reason to stay either.)
After securing a copy of Stephen King’s newest book from Barnes & Noble and a cup of his favorite expensive coffee, I rushed inside the building and headed right up to his office.
I knocked against his door five times and waited for his familiar, “Yes?” before opening the door.
The second I stepped inside, I felt his deep brown eyes watching my every move, and I tried not to make eye contact as I walked over and set the book and the coffee on his desk.
“Is there something on your mind, Miss London?” He waited for me to look at him, and I finally gave in. “Any particular reason why you’re currently mumbling?”
“No, Mr. Leighton. It’s just—” I decided to be honest, to finally get this over with. “I’m not interested in signing the extension contract.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Are you referring to right now, or ever?”
“Ever.” I stepped back, waiting for his reaction, but there wasn’t one. His face remained stoic and he simply picked up his coffee and took a long sip.
“Fair enough,” he said. “Thank you for telling me. After you settle into your office, I need you pick up my dry cleaning from Midtown. There should be fifteen suits and twenty shirts in my name.”
What the hell? “Would you like me to pick up anything else?”
“Not at all.”
I forced a smile and headed toward the door. “Thank you for being understanding about the contract, Mr. Leighton.”
“Anytime, Miss London.”
I left his office and took the steps to my own, quickly printing out the two o’clock reports so I could save time since I had a new dry cleaning mission. As I was stapling the first set of sheets together, my phone buzzed with a new email from him.
Subject: Something Else I Need Today.
My Jaguar needs to be washed. Take it to the place I like in New Jersey, ten miles across the bridge.
