Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Me: Sir, it’s Saturday tomorrow.
Theodore: What do you have left to do?
Me: I have to gather the data from the Sango project.
Theodore: That’s not a priority. My empty stomach is.
Who was this man and what had he done with the monster boss who demanded overtime to get all the work done on the planned day?
Me: …Are you telling me to end my day before I’m done with my work, sir?
Theodore: Feeding me is part of your job.
Me: Technically, it’s not.
Theodore: Neither is arguing, but you’re doing that.
I brought my fist to my mouth and coughed into it to hide my laugh.
Me: …If I agree to this, can I do yoga and take a bath first? If your call is nothing but arguments, it’s going to go on for at least another hour with Mr Govind there.
Theodore: Don’t point that out.
Theodore: Fine. Go do your yoga and take a bath.
Theodore: And don’t say I never do anything nice for you.
Me: Yes, sir. You are a most gracious and thoughtful boss.
Theodore: Does that mean you’ll change your mind about resigning?
Me: You’re not *that* gracious and thoughtful, sir.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – CHLOE
Please Put On A T-shirt, Sir
I interlaced my fingers and stretched my arms out in front of me, making one of my knuckles pop.
“Ah,” I gasped as the little ‘knock’ rang through the air and reached my ears. “That felt good.”
There really was nothing like cracking knuckles after typing for a long time. I couldn’t do it in the office because the sound of popping joints apparently gave Melody ‘the ick,’ as she put it, and I tried to refrain from doing it around Theodore because…
Well.
It was a bit of a bad habit of mine, and it was easier to keep some kind of distance between us if I kept up the air of perfect professionalism.
That very same air was why I was sitting at the dining table on a Saturday morning, writing up the report I’d delayed last night. I’d timed my working minutes perfectly, and I’d managed to only go over by ten minutes.
I wasn’t going to demand overtime for that.
Really, if I’d just done it yesterday instead of listening to a certain someone whining about how hungry he was, I’d have had it done during working hours.
The drawn-out exhale of a yawn filled the air, and I turned towards the source right as another one erupted from the half-asleep, half-naked man who was responsible for it.
This was the third time this week.
Him showing up half-naked, that was. Not half-asleep.
For someone who was often running downstairs at the last minute, he was surprisingly chipper on a morning.
It seemed as though that morning personality didn’t extend to the weekends.
Neither did the clothing on his upper body.
And, honestly, it was the purest definition of being between a rock and a hard place.
Theodore Black had the kind of perfectly toned body that wouldn’t be out of place on a poster attached to the wall of a teenage girl’s bedroom. It was the body of someone who ate a good diet and worked out regularly but didn’t live and die by the gym. His shoulders were broad, and his back was toned, and there was just enough visible vein in his forearm to make a girl really stop and think about her life choices until now.
It was me.
I was the girl stopping and thinking about her life choices until now.
Mostly about how the heck I’d ended up here.
Theodore turned on the coffee machine and leant back against the opposite counter, reaching down to scratch his groin.
All right.
I had to make my presence known now.
“Good morning.”
He jerked, jumping away from the counter and turning in my direction. “Jesus Christ, what are you doing over there all quietly?”
“Writing the report on the Sango project,” I replied, hitting the shortcut to save it once more. “What else would I be doing this early on a Saturday morning?”
“I told you that you could leave that for next week.” He pulled a mug down from the cupboard. “Coffee?”
“I have tea.” I pointed to my cup. “And yes, you did, but I wouldn’t be able to rest this weekend with it looming over me.”
“Didn’t you make a point about not working on a weekend?”
“Yes, but I finished early yesterday thanks to you being on your deathbed due to hunger, so I just worked that time instead.”
“Very efficient of you.” He put the mug under the machine and pressed the button to make it brew. “Although you didn’t take my complaints very seriously, given that you did yoga and had a bath before cooking.”
“With your permission,” I reminded him. “And you should buckle up because I’m going to start teaching you how to cook. Starting tonight.”
Theodore froze. “You really don’t need to do that.”
“I really do. Then you can cook for yourself the next time you starve to death.” I reached for my mug and sipped, cradling the still-hot cup in my hands. “It seems too cold for April, don’t you think?”