Page 54 of Twisted Truth

“Good.” He steps closer. “I like to be pleased. And despite the fact that I can be a demanding person to work for, I want harmony when I can get it. I want my business to run like awell-oiled machine so that I don’t have to constantly bark orders and demands. I have other things on my plate to worry about. My expectations are high, that won’t change, and I expect my employees to reach and then exceed those expectations.”

“I plan to, but you have to let me do my job.”

He smirks and takes another step closer. We’re practically touching now. “But here’s where you aren’t like the rest of my employees: your welfare is my personal business. Everything from your clothing to your work success to even your mood is a reflection upon me. Whatever you do or say, people will immediately equate to me. So, you must be as perfect as you can and give them as little as possible to critique.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“In your work, yes. But in your attitude toward me? Well, that leaves a lot to be desired.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I have some new conditions. One: we don’t fight at work. Ever. We are a united front. We must be professional while maintaining the appearance of being in love. We can’t have anyone question us. And two: you will come whenever I call you, for whatever reason, no matter what.”

“You can’t?—”

“I can, and I will.” His smile is the devil’s smile. He leans down and whispers now. “For the duration of our agreement, you will come when I call.”

Shivers whisper against my skin. I shake my head slightly to clear the haze growing inside it.

“I didn’t agree to be at your beck and call when I signed that contract.”

“I’m adding that in now. You will come when I call, and you won’t fight me on it.”

“Why? Why is this such a thing with you?”

“Because, as I said, I worry. I wish I didn’t, but I do. And Iwon’t be able to focus on my work of growing and running this company if my worries override my thoughts.”

I try to argue, but he cuts me off again.

“I’m not asking, Ella. I’m demanding. As the figurehead and CEO of this company, I am telling you that part of your job description from here on out is to be available to me when I call you. No excuses, no push back, no arguments. Am I clear?”

I narrow my eyes, biting my tongue. This asshole. I want to slap him for two reasons. For his ridiculous threat and demands, but also for the fluttering in my chest and the shallow breaths in my throat. The way he’s looking at me, the sultry timbre of his voice, his demands—they are all hitting me in a way I can’t deny. I should be arguing, pushing back, and yet all I want to do is crash my lips to his. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

“Am I clear, Ms. Hale?” Asher purrs.

“Yes,” I say in a breathy voice.

He places his hand on my waist. Pulling me into him. He whispers along my neck. “Good girl.”

He turns away, opens the door, and walks out without a backward glance. I stand frozen, in shock, gasping for breath.What the fuck was that?I’m so turned on that I don’t know up from down, and he’s just stalked off like it was nothing.

I let out a breath and leave the office, following behind Asher, trying not to blush as all my coworkers watch with morbid fascination, clearly wondering what we were up to in Emily’s office. Asher slows and turns back, holding his hand out for me to take. I start to hesitate, embarrassed by all the stares, but Asher gives me a, “don’t you dare,” look, so I reach out and take his hand.

United front at work,I remind myself.

He gives me his devilish, “I own you,” smile again, I want to slap it off his face. But I also want to kiss him until I don’t remember my own name. Fuck me and my idiot of a brain.

As we make our way back across the floor, I notice the looks he shoots some of my male coworkers. His glares could melt ice.Is this just about a united front? Or is there more to it than that?This is starting to feel like a very intentional little show.

We make it past the groups of cubicles to the front of the floor, near the elevators, and my suspicions seem to be being confirmed more and more. Not only is Asher making a show of holding my hand and glaring at all the men who dare to look in my direction, but he now pulls me close as we wait for the meeting in the conference room to end before going in for the next meeting.

I rise onto my toes and lean close to Asher’s ear. “What was that all about?”

“All what?” His voice is a little too innocent.

“That seemed like more than a, ‘united front.’ That seemed like a marking of territory.”

His eyes shine with mirth. I can see out of the corner of my eye that people are still standing, peering over the tops of their cubicles, and I can tell Asher is acutely aware of that fact as well. He turns to me and places his hand possessively on my waist again.