Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
“Yep,” I answer, pressing my lips together as he holds the door open for me. He waits for me to buckle myself in before he closes it and then locks my door. After that, he loads up my things and then enters the driver’s side.
“I have a guest bedroom that will be yours for the time being. There will be no men allowed in the condo, understood?”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.”
“It’s Dylan. Say it.”
“Dylan.”
“Good. If you’re going to be my personal assistant, I want to make sure you can follow simple directions.”
“Are you always this grumpy at night, or is guilt eating you up so bad that you had to find a solution to your little problem?”
“That smart mouth of yours isn’t going to do you any good, Harley.”
“As your personal assistant, what are my duties?”
“You’ll be keeping track of my schedule inside and outside of work, picking up my suits among other things, but we’ll discuss more of that in the morning.” We drive in silence through the city streets until we arrive at a condo building. He parks his car next to the elevator and steps out. “Come on.”
He takes my hand to assist me out of his vehicle and then releases it as soon as my feet hit the ground, as if it disgusts him to touch me, which is fine by me since Mr. Arrogant is getting on my nerves. He may be gorgeous, but I’m not letting my hormones rule me, especially when they’re unwelcome. He presses his hand to the small of my back, leading me to the open elevator. “What about my things?”
“Someone will bring them along.”
A moment later, I see a man behind us heading to the back of the vehicle. Where the hell did he come from, and does he just have people at his disposal at any hour? If he has people like this, why does he need me?
We enter the condo, and I’m not surprised that it’s absolutely perfect—something straight out of a Pinterest board, or some photoshoot. It’s amazing.
“Your room is over here.” He leads me down the hall and then opens the door to an equally nice guest bedroom.
“Um…thank you.” I see the bed and let out a yawn. Mr. Hunter’s eyes darken, and he’s about to say something when we’re interrupted.
“Sir.” The giant from downstairs is standing inside the bedroom door with my things.
“You don’t ever come in here. This is her space.”
“Sorry, sir. I was just dropping off the bags.”
“Leave them there, and you can go.”
“Yes, Mr. Hunter.” Okay, so he’s an asshole to everyone.
“Thanks for my stuff.”
“Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Wha…” He doesn’t let me finish before he shuts my bedroom door and is gone. I walk over to the amazingly fluffy bed and plop down. “This is wonderful,” I sigh, letting out another yawn. It’s too late to look for my pajamas again, so I strip out of my outer layers and slip under the covers in just my panties. The sheets feel like a dream as I let sleep take me.
There’s a rapt knocking on the bedroom door. “Harley, breakfast is ready.” His deep voice penetrates the door and so much more.
“Sorry, I’m coming,” I say groggily, rubbing my eyes. Picking up my cell phone, I see it’s already ten in the morning. Shit. Quickly, I grab some leggings and a top with a pair of slippers. I normally wake up early every day, but I guess it was the fancy bed and the middle-of-the-night wake-up call because I slept in. I must look like a mess, but it’s Saturday and he just messed up my schedule, so he’s going to have to deal with me as is for now.
I open the door and find him standing there. “Good morning.” Why does he look so damn good in just a plain black tee shirt and gray slacks? His muscles are jacked, stretching the fabric on his shirt, and I’m doing my best to not look at them, but damn, the man is packing massive cannons.
“You didn’t need to wait for me,” I say, trying to create some separation between us.
“Yes, I did, because you don’t know where we’re eating breakfast.”
“Oh. Wait, we’re going out?”
“No, but I don’t want you running around the entire condo without a bra on trying to find my office.” I cover my chest and my insanely hard nipples.
“Shit. Give me one more minute.”
“No problem. Just don’t let that slip-up happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s Dylan.”
“Yes, Dylan.”
“Good girl,” he says, crossing his arms, and I drop mine, turning on my heels before going back into my room to add a bra. Once I come back out, he leads me to his office, which is on the second floor of the condo with double doors. It’s freaking gorgeous. On an ornate wooden table, there’s a spread of food that smells delicious. “Come and eat.”