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The week blurred into consecutive busy days and sleepless nights filled with coffee and nonstop work. My neck and back ached from the bad posture I maintained from my swivel chair. I’d created short, but informative, PowerPoint presentations on all one hundred and twenty-five business proposals.
My fingers were numb. My wrists stung.
I’d been popping Ibuprofen pills every four hours just to keep my pace. In the end, all the required assignments were completed with perfection.
Pride strummed through my system and charged up my adrenaline.
I knocked on Chase’s door.
“Come on in, Jasmine.” His voice held the deep tone that, in other situations, would have triggered my panties to moisten and body to shudder.
My boss is ugly. Super ugly.
I’d been saying that mantra each time I caught his seductive scent, every time he brushed his body against mine as he explained a specific detail I needed to address in the presentations, and even the morning sessions with him wet, dressed in a towel.
He’s unattractive and looks like a troll.
“How is your project going? Do you need more assistance?” He leaned back in his chair. His shirt was unbuttoned at the top and reminded me of the color of melted butter. A creamy white tie lounged on the edge of his desk.
My boss is not delicious.
“Remember. You have a month to complete the project, so take your time.” He typed something and then slid his laptop to the side.
“I’m already done.” I suppressed my smile.
Look at me. I’m impressive! Aren’t you glad you hired me?
“I should’ve expected that.” He knitted his fingers together. “You graduated top of your class. All your recommendations boasted of your hard work and dedication during internships.”
I walked to his desk and placed the box of flash drives on it.
“Hold on to them.” Chase held up his hand to stop me. “I want you to present ten of the best proposals to me.”
“What?” I bit my lip.
“You’ve conducted exhaustive research on each proposal, correct?”
I nodded.
“Then you must have a top ten.”
I scanned my tired brain. Several projects popped into my head. All ten had impressed me throughout my examination.
He focused his eyes on me. A hint of humor gleamed across them. “So, can you think of ten proposals you liked?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s discuss these projects over dinner.” He rose from his chair and grabbed his jacket. “I’ll bring my laptop?”
“Dinner?” I slid my thumb across the plastic edge of the box. “Tonight?”
My plan was to drop off the drives, race to my office filled with superiority, grab my belongings, and head home to sip a pre-celebration glass of champagne with Vivian and my brother.
We were going to hang out at Drunken Lyrics, a café that held spoken word open mic and at midnight shifted to a stuffy reggae lounge. The only downer on the evening was that we had to listen to her boyfriend’s Noc’s poetry, but I decided I would be sloshed by then.
“Yes, dinner.” He strolled around his desk until he was in front of me, just like he’d done during my interview a week ago.
I am your god, he’d said. Well, I guess so.
