Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 249(@200wpm)___ 199(@250wpm)___ 166(@300wpm)
Me: And who the hell else is going to deal with marketing materials, Bastian?
It's not really my job, but no one other than him knows anything about marketing, and he's too damn busy to handle it. Just like he's too busy to plan a launch event for the new line, update the website, or any of the thousand other marketing-adjacent things I've been tackling lately. His plate is running over, but with planting season underway, so is everyone else's. I'm the only one left to tackle half this stuff.
And I need a functioning printer to do it.
There's no way Bastian is buying a new one, though. I don't care what Jax and Haven think. The only thing the man feels for me is a deep-seated irritation.
Bastian: Fine. I'll order a new one.
I gape at my phone for a long moment, willing the words to change. But they don't. He's seriously getting a new printer just because I asked?
There's no way Jax and Haven were right. They can't be.
I mean, maybe Bastian finds me attractive. Maybe I annoy him by not obeying every whim. But that doesn't mean he actually likes me. There are rules between me and Bastian, and they might as well be impenetrable walls as far as he's concerned.
He's the boss. I'm an employee. In his eyes, that makes me completely untouchable.
Except…maybe I'm not. And maybe I'm not the only one desperate to do a little touching.
"Crap," I groan, laying my head on my desk. Being wildly attracted to him is supposed to be safe because he's supposed to be out of my reach. The lines aren't supposed to blur.
They're blurring.
Bastian: You need anything else?
"So many things," I mutter. "Like you naked." But I do not tell him that. Hell no, I don't.
Day-drinking is looking better and better.
Me: Nope. All good.
Three little dots appear, disappear, then reappear again. I watch my phone like a hawk, but when they disappear a second time, they don't appear again.
I groan, powering my screen off before I find a reason to spend the rest of the day staring at it.
Working for Bastian Grayson is wreaking serious havoc on my sanity, and I am not mentally or emotionally prepared to deal with either today.
Chapter Two
Bastian
Constance is doing it again, tempting me toward the precipice of madness. Every fucking time she wraps her pouty lips around her straw and takes a sip, another bead of sweat rolls between my shoulder blades. My knuckles are already white where I'm gripping the edges of my desk in a desperate bid to keep myself in my chair instead of pushing her to her knees to wrap her lips around something else.
She's your employee, you sick fuck.
You'd think after three months, my cock would have gotten that memo by now. No dice.
He knows what he wants. And what he wants is Constance Maverick.
He isn't the only one. The petite little minx has my goddamn mind twisted in knots. When I should be working, I'm stalking her on the fucking cameras, just to see what she's doing. When she's in her office, I'm thinking up excuses to interrupt her workday, just so she has to speak to me.
My obsession is quickly spiraling out of control. That's a problem.
She's my employee. Even if I had time to date—which I don't—it wouldn't be someone whose livelihood I hold in the palm of my hand. I may be an asshole, but even I have integrity.
She's seriously fucking testing it.
Every damn time she gives me attitude, I want her long brown hair wrapped around my fist while she's begging me to let her come. When she growls at me, I want my handprint turning her round ass red. And when she smiles? I want to fall to my knees and worship at her feet.
Nothing and no one has ever tested me like our new social media manager does on a daily basis. My life has always been this vineyard, and ensuring we don't fuck it up, that we're leaving something for the next generation, the same way our parents left it to us.
If the long hours and sleepless nights mean my siblings and cousins get to have lives outside of the vineyard, I've always been content with that. Right up until Constance strolled in, anyway. Now, I find myself craving something entirely new.
Specifically, her on her knees with my dick down her throat and her makeup ruined. Or her on her back, screaming the roof down while I fuck my kid into her.
I want her claw marks in my shoulders and the indentations from her heels in my back.
And I'm reasonably certain she'd rather pour gasoline on me and light the match than give me the time of day. She's sunshine and rainbows to my cousins. To me, she's sass and venom.
It keeps my fucking cock hard and eats me alive at the same time.