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“Aye, Atlas, you good?” Roc’s gaze darted between his psycho friend, who now refused to look my way, and me.
“Yup.” I just barely managed to swallow my laugh at the disturbed look on Rowdy’s face.
I started to ask Roc what the hell took him so long, but he beat me to it. “Sorry, I’m late,” he apologized. “I had an emergency this morning and completely forgot you were starting today.”
“That’s okay,” I offered quietly. Rowdy’s head had snapped in our direction, and now his confused gaze was darting between Roc and me. I simply hugged my waist and waited for the other shoe to drop.
Something told me that Rowdy wouldn’t be pleased when Roc told him the good news—an important detail I’d failed to mention before he tried to fuck me behind the dumpster.
I hadn’t started working for the Kings yet and was already questioning whether I could handle it.
“How the fuck do you know her?” my green-eyed monster and secret obsession snapped.
Roc sighed like he already knew what his friend’s reaction would be and mumbled, “This is Atlas. The girl I told you about? She’s our new receptionist.”
It then occurred to me that Rowdy had never bothered to learn my name.
“Atlas, meet Rowdy,” Roc introduced. He was blissfully unaware of how well acquainted Atlas and I had been moments away from becoming. I hadn’t believed for a second that her pussy wasn’t dripping for me. “He’s one of the owners.”
“No.”
Roc’s gaze snapped to me. “No?” he echoed. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean,no,she can’t work here.”
Roc gaped at me for a moment before the muscle in his jaw began ticking. “I’m not doing this with you, O. I already hired her.”
“Word?” Unfazed, I turned my attention to Miss Twenty-Five-to-Life. “You’re fired.”
“What?” Atlas’s lips fell open, delicate nostrils flared, and then her bewildered gaze flew to Roc for help.
I still wanted to fucking kiss her.
It was a first for me, to say the least. And disturbing as fuck if she’d been telling the truth about her age.
I hadn’t put my lips on a broad since I was sixteen.
Kissing, for whatever reason, had always felt more intimate than fucking. The latter could be done for the sole purpose of busting a nut or making a baby. Kissing, however, was completely fucking unnecessary.
It always felt like I was sending a message I didn’t mean or making promises I didn’t intend to keep. So, yeah, kissing was out. It was too affectionate, too personal, and most of the women I’ve encountered had never measured up.
“You’re trippin’,” Roc argued halfheartedly. “You can’t fire this girl for whatever slight pissed you off this time.” He already knew there was no use in trying to change my mind unless he was willing to throw down for her. Roc knew the rules. If he could best me in a fight, he could keep her, but I knew my brother. It wouldn’t be worth the effort for some random he wasn’t even fucking.
“Fuck you for one,” I returned sarcastically. “Two, she was late as fuck. Almost an hour. That alone is a fireable offense. Three, did you even do a background check? She’s not even old enough to drive a car. This ain’t no goddamn sweatshop. Tell her ass to go find some brats to babysit and get the fuck.”
Eyes wide open now, Roc’s head swung toward Atlas’s snake-ass, letting me know I was right, at least, about the background check. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen,” she grumbled while purposely avoiding my gaze.
“You’s a goddamn lie. You told me you were fourteen.”
“Because you were trying to fuck me behind a dumpster, you psycho! I told you I didn’t want to, but that didn’t seem to matter to you, so I lied, okay?”
“No, motherfucker. Not okay. How do we know you aren’t lying now?”
Huffing, she reached inside the little purse I hadn’t noticed her carrying and pulled out her driver’s license. “See? I was born November ninth, two thousand and one.”
“Let me see this shit.” I snatched the license from her hand, ignoring the feeling of being punched in the gut when our fingers touched. I could feel her attention on me as I read the proof that she was legal with my own eyes.
