Belonging to the Boss by Jenna Rose

Author:Jenna Rose [Rose, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-08-29T18:30:00+00:00

6

Derick

I stayed up half the night wondering if I made a mistake hiring Gracie, letting her into my life and letting her into my heart.

Of course I was only capable of making a different decision in regard to one of those things. Once Gracie was in my life, there was no stopping her. I was powerless. The only way back now would be with a time machine.

Falling for her is my fault, of course. I thought I could blacklist her, hire her, test her and sculpt her like a piece of clay into a strong, powerful woman who could go out there and take the New York City art world by storm. And I thought I could do all that while listening only to my dick. But I was wrong. And now I’m paying the price.

The whole time I was playing Gracie, she was playing me.

She knew what I wanted. But it’s not like I made it much of a secret, standing there in her doorway with a stiffy, eyeballing her the whole time. A starving lion with his eyes on a gazelle wouldn’t have been more transparent. So knowing I had something she needed, and she had something I wanted, she decided to trade—her virginity for a job.

What a sucker.

“You were right, Pops,” I say as I shut off the shower water and grab a towel. “They’re out for my money.”

I check a few e-mails on my phone as I get dressed and head downstairs. Part of me wonders if I’ll find a note saying she’s quit—or just find her gone. She didn’t look too happy last night when I called her out on her little maneuver of trying to get a job out of me.

I’ll have to find a new assistant, but that won’t be a problem. A man this time. That will cut down on any issues in the future.

Part of me wonders if there’s any chance of salvaging this situation. Christ, here I was thinking about finding her a ring – something tasteful, nothing crazy like you see rappers buying their celebrity wives or whatever. I couldn’t picture Gracie wanting something like that anyway—not with her taste.

But now…now I don’t know what to think.

Now I wonder if she would want one of those gaudy rocks so she could divorce me in a few years and then go sell the thing and buy a townhouse on 71st Street and hobnob with the rest of the gold-digging wives who have taken a billionaire for half of what he made.

“Shit,” I growl under my breath as I head to the kitchen. “What a mess—”

I stop dead before I get two steps into the room.

There she is. Gracie, standing at the stove, spatula in hand, working a pan of scrambled eggs. She’s wearing a pair of insanely cute booty shorts that only cover about half of her ass and a crop top with a pair of high socks that make her look like a college co-ed that belongs on a calendar.

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