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Alexandra sent me a link to her LinkedIn profile, and it didn’t take me long to review her experience. She has had one damn job.
“Come and meet her,” she told me.
So here I am. Not only was she late, but she has a fucking coffee stain down the front of her and looks like she walked through a tornado to get to the office.
That is not the look I want representing our luxury brand.
To make matters worse, my cock—the traitorous bastard - reacted to seeing her on her knees. When she lifted her eyes and drew in a surprised breath, making her supple breasts heave like a bar wench from a historical romance fucking movie, I felt my already hardening cock turn granite.
Never in my life have I reacted to a woman so quickly and so powerfully. And she’s an absolute mess.
I’m writing it off as a stress reaction to the conversation with my father last night.
One I’m still reeling about.
The fact he doesn’t think I’m capable and that he’s dictating what I can do with my cock is infuriating.
There hasn’t been any media exposure to my joy rides, as he so cleverly put it. No issue with client relations or impact on our bottom line.
Ward can’t tell me that CEOs around the world don’t sleep with women they encounter via business.
They absolutely do.
All my joy fucking riding has been done, for the most part, in stealth. How Ward knows about them, I’m not sure. Like he always seemed to know when I stole cookies out of the pantry before bed.
I swear parents have fucking superpowers.
After lying awake all night tossing and turning, I realized that my father won’t be moved from his decision.
If I want this job, I’ll need to stop sleeping with women I meet at work for the next three months. Which is one hundred percent of them, given I live and breathe this life.
Too bad.
I am a Montgomery. Ward’s son. The CEO role is mine. No one else’s.
I’m not fucking happy about it, but it is what it is.
Still, I’m not a sadist. The way my body reacted a moment ago was way too powerful for me to resist.
Payton Mills is too inexperienced, way too pretty, and a sexy little mess. I cannot have her working on our account.
“Jesus, Alexandra. Can’t you find someone from another agency with more experience?” I growl.
“I tried.” She shakes her head. “We don’t have time to replace her. Now, Knox, about this early launch date. Do you want me to speak to Ward?”
I clench my teeth.
Alexandra is a beautiful woman closer to my father’s age. The two have worked together for over ten years and have a good relationship. This isn’t the first time she’s offered to speak to daddy for me.
Or the first time it has irritated me.
StoryCraft is one of the best agencies in the state and for that reason alone I tolerate the implied superiority, however my patience is low today and her question crosses the line.
I’m not a little boy who needs her help and if Alexandra hasn’t noticed my six-foot-four frame and bulging arms under my Verity & Co. jacket, then we have a problem.
She knows I went to Brown, and she knows my surname. I’m not a young executive she can intimidate.
That might be her intention, but being told by my father that I’m not qualified to take over his job has me short-tempered.
