“You said be here at five it’s five.” I hold up my hand when it looks like he’s going to say something else. “And we need to discuss my salary,” I state, uncrossing my legs then re-crossing them in the other direction, ignoring the way his eyes watch the movement and change color.
“Salary?” He frowns, and I can’t help the smile that forms on my lips at the confusion on his face.
“Yes, my salary. I mean, you didn’t actually think I was going to come work for you for free, did you?” I ask, raising my brow.
“Of course not. I’ll start you off at thirty-five thousand—”
“Yeah, that’s not going to work for me. At my old job, the one I just quit to come work for you, I made one hundred and seventy-five thousand a year, with four weeks paid vacation and one week sick pay,” I say, cutting him off. I actually make much more than that modeling, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“Where the hell did you work?” he growls, making my girly parts tingle.
Ignoring my body’s reaction to him, I wave my hand around in front of me and continue, “That doesn’t matter now, so since I’m just starting out here, I’ll take one hundred and fifty thousand, but I want the same for paid days off, including sick days.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking?” he asks, tilting his head back and looking toward the ceiling for an answer to his question.
“You’re thinking you just got yourself the best assistant money can buy,” I retort then press my lips together to keep from smiling at the look of gloom on his face when his eyes meet mine.
Running his hand through his hair, his eyes scan me over and he shakes his head. “Fine, but you’re at my beck and call. That means twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, if I call, you come running.”
“I don’t work weekends.” I smirk then wonder why the hell I love fighting with him so much.
His eyes study me for a long time, so long that I fight the urge to squirm in my seat. “Fine, but five days a week, you’re mine twenty-four seven.”
“Sure.” I shrug, knowing he has no idea what he’s in for. “So what do you want me to do today?” I ask looking around his office, noticing it’s tidy. The top of his desk is clean with his top of the line computer and a neat stack of papers. The upper and lower cabinets to the right of his desk with a counter between are bare, only a crystal decanter that is half full of dark liquid and two glasses sitting on top. The leather couch behind me with the round, rustic wooden coffee table is clean with a stack of books on top, which I’m certain no one has ever read and is there just for show.
Everything seems to have a specific spot, but there is nothing overly personal in the space. Not a single picture of family or friends, no mementos of places he’s gone. It looks like a magazine ad for a man’s office. The little devil, who has taken up a place on my shoulder since meeting Sven, is begging me to move stuff around just to see what will happen if I do, while the angel on the other side is shaking her head in disapproval.
Frowning, he looks at me then glances around as well before bringing his gaze back to mine. “There are some orders that need to be filled. You can watch me do that, and then I’ll take you down, show you around the club, and introduce you to everyone.”
“It’s your show, Boss.” I smile and watch him take off his suit jacket and lay it neatly over the edge of the desk, and then I scoot back in my chair as he walks toward me so he can pick up the chair next to mine. Carrying the chair around the desk, he sets it down next to his on the opposite side.
“You can sit here…unless you want to sit on my lap?” He smirks while nodding to the chair he placed next to his.
“Does shizzle like that actually work for you?” I ask him, standing from the chair I’m currently sitting in and walking around to take the seat.
“Do you ever curse?” he counters, ignoring my question, and I feel his knee lean against my thigh.
“Yes.” I shrug. I may not curse with the same words he does, but the meaning is the same.
“Say ‘fuck,’” he challenges me with a raise of his brow.
“Frick.” I smile, pulling my leg away from his when it seems he’s not going to move.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Says who? Everyday, words are added to the English language. Who’s to say that ‘frick’ won’t mean the word you said in a few years?”
“You’re something else,” he mutters under his breath while his eyes stay locked on mine.
“Are you going to show me what I need to know, or stare at me all day?” I question, pointing to the screen, needing him to look away, because him looking at me is causing a range of emotions I’m not comfortable with to run through me.
“I’m definitely going to show you something,” he grunts, pulling his eyes from mine. Sitting back, I ignore the warm feeling in my lower belly and watch for an hour as he shows me how to use the computer system to place orders for the club. Then, I follow him down to the club floor, where he introduces me to everyone and shows me around.
“I’m going to order in some food. Would you like something?” I ask Sven, standing from the couch, where he told me to sit three hours ago after handing me one of the most boring books in the world about Vegas night club codes and policies.