Page 22 of Fake It For Glory

MERIDA

Okay. There it was. Didn’t take long for the rich douchebag alter ego to rear his ugly head. I shouldn’t be surprised. The guy was notoriously standoffish. Everyone knew it. Jensen Loxley didn’t talk to anyone. That was why he was such a mystery. I should have known he wouldn’t talk to anyone because he was convinced he was way above us little peons. I understood why he needed an image makeover.

The guy was a dick.

“I’ll be a good little girlfriend, my lord.” I bowed my head.

He narrowed his eyes.

I smirked. I couldn’t help but give him a little grief. It wasn’t like I needed him to like me. I didn’t even care if I got the money. Technically, my job was done. I could get up and walk away and it would be no skin off my nose. I wasn’t the one that needed to fix my image in order to get a little richer than God. “Should I add ‘no jokes or sarcasm’ to your list of demands?” I asked sweetly.

He took a deep breath. “I have a small margin for humor.”

The way he said it, with no color to his voice, suggested it wasn’t true, but I nodded. “Got it. The boss has a margin for humor.”

I saw him flinch and knew I was pushing his buttons. I probably should have toned it down, but I did not like being dictated to. He was treating me like I was a peon to be ordered around. Just because he was going to be paying me, it didn’t turn me into a piece of property for him to control. That was not in my DNA.

“There’s one more thing,” he said.

I wanted to roll my eyes, but I kept myself from doing it. “And what would that be?”

“I expect you to be dressed a bit nicer whenever you’re in my company.”

I balked, physically recoiling from his insensitive words. Was he serious? “What’s wrong with my clothes?”

He gestured up and down my entire outfit. “It swallows you whole. I want to see your shape. Right now, you look like a box.”

I felt my face burning, my entire body hot as he studied me. “I—”

I couldn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t know what to say to that.

“I’d rather see your legs and hips, and I would like to see your waist. I know there is an incredible body under there and you’d better get comfortable showing it off, because Hattie will be dressing you to the nines for our events.”

I felt naked. I was fully clothed with nary an inch of skin exposed, but I felt completely naked. I squirmed a bit, trying to find a way to cover myself despite him demanding I didn’t.

He looked down at my shoes. “And never wear those around me again.”

I looked at my trusty white sneakers. Well, they weren’t all that white anymore. But they were very comfy and cute and a total staple in my wardrobe. We lived in New York. I had to do a lot of walking. Everyone wore tennis shoes. “I don’t—”

He held up a hand. “Are you really going to pass on five hundred thousand dollars because of a pair of sneakers?” he asked.

I so wanted to tell him to take a flying leap out of his thirty-third-floor window. I wanted to tell him to kiss my ass. I didn’t need his stupid money. I didn’t need him. “Are you telling me you never wear sneakers?”

“Not on the job,” he countered. “This is a professional business office.”

“I walked three blocks to get here,” I shot back. “Not all of us are chauffeured around. Some of us peasants actually have to use our feet to get around.”

“Almost everyone in my office takes the subway or walks to work,” he said. “Not one of them wears sneakers.”

“Have you ever walked a mile in heels?” I snapped.

“No, but I know it can be done,” he said.

I gestured at his Gucci dress shoes. “Let me guess, those are what, a few grand? They probably fit like a glove. The insoles are comfy. Your toes aren’t pinched. You don’t have to worry about them sliding up and down your heels and rubbing them raw.”

“They are quite comfortable,” he said, nodding.

My eyes went to the window. I let myself enjoy a little fantasy of him swan diving out the window. But then I remembered my chance to do a real story on him. The world was going to know what an asshole he was.