The Interview Read Online Donna Alam

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 154890 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 620(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
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“Did they make you sing?” Fucking hell. Maybe there’s something in the water. Something more dangerous than listeria.

“What do you mean?”

I’m definitely going to hell. “Did they make you come?”

She bites her lip but doesn’t answer, which is probably for the best.

“If I answer your question, you have to answer mine.”

“That’s not how I work.”

“It’s not like I’m gonna jump you. I just want to know what you like.”

“Why? What good could come of it?”

“I guess I’m trying to make sense of what made me enjoy it so much.” Her gaze dips to her lap where she picks at a piece of invisible fluff. “Why I didn’t stop you. Was it you? Was it the role you were playing? It was shocking, but I felt kind of compelled. No, that’s not the right word,” she adds as her gaze lifts, her expression not quite beseeching. “Why did it make me feel so good?”

I almost groan. Why does she have to be so fucking perfect?

“I can’t answer that for you.” More importantly, I don’t want to because then I’ll have to admit there are other men like me. Other men with whom she might find what she’s looking for. Other men she might share the experience with.

“Well, that’s okay.” I almost fall off my chair. Mimi Valente giving up—listening? “Because that’s not what I want to ask.”

“No?” So much hesitancy in that word. Rightly so, as it turns out.

“No. What I’m asking is why you like it.”

“I like it when people do as they’re told.” It’s the truth. But I could also be trying to put a stop to this dangerous interrogation.

“People?”

“In a general sense.” Who doesn’t like to be in charge and have those around them pay attention? It would make my life generally easier if they did. “More specifically, I enjoy it when women do as I say.” Again with the truth.

“In the bedroom,” she whispers.

“Sexually,” I amend.

“You like them to be a little submissive? Like me?”

“Stop.” I bring my head to my hand, ostensibly to rub my temples. The reality is, I need to hide the truth from her. The truth of what her questions mean. “This is ridiculous,” I add with an unhappy frown.

“I’m just saying.” She gives a tiny shoulder shimmy that I suppose is meant to convey her innocence.

But yes, Mimi. I like them when they’re like you, even full of questions and pushing boundaries. I like to call them my good girl when they’re compliant and punish them in a way that meets both of our satisfaction when they’re not. “This conversation is edging territory I’d rather not discuss.” And I’d rather not suffer my hard-on edging the underside of my desk. “You should go back to work.”

I expect another question, an oh, but I haven’t asked you about—

I’m surprised when she stands.

“Yes,” she demurs, “I should get back, just like the boss says.”

I have nothing to offer, nothing sensible, anyway. Except… she didn’t answer my original question. She pauses when she reaches the door, and I think for a moment that she might’ve read my mind as she lifts her gaze. My gray-eyed guileless temptress. Or should that be agitator? “Does Lavender have a favorite restaurant?”

“Somewhere that serves lentils, probably.” Has Mimi really led such a sheltered life, or is she playing a part? And there’s that question again: have previous lovers made her come? “I’m not really sure,” I add, drawing my laptop closer.

“No problem. I can ask El.” I suppose that answers that conundrum. Temptress or agitator, good girl or bad? Try frustrating to the end.

“Just don’t book a steak restaurant,” I reply, refusing to bite.

“And a budget for her gift?”

“Spend whatever you think.”

“No budget? You should probably come with me.”

I can’t restrain the twist of my lips. Mimi Valente is not bad. She’s an out-and-out brat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Fine. Have it your way, Daddy Warbucks.” She tips her gaze again. It doesn’t hide her smirk. “One last question.” Thank fuck. “What kind of things does Lavender like?”

“Edibles,” I say with a sigh.

“O-kay.” She marks something on the iPad when she looks my way again. “I wonder if El likes people to do as they’re told, too.”

I send her a withering glance. “My brother is nothing like me.”

“I expect you’re right. He seems way more laid-back. Maybe I’ll just ask him to hook me up with a dealer.”

“It was a joke,” I say repressively.

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I’m beginning to wonder if you think that’s what I am.”

And with that, she flounces out of my office.

7

MIMI

“Aunt Doreen!” The brass letterbox rattles as I push the door.

“In here, dear,” she calls from the kitchen.

I make my way through the slightly musty hallway into the bright kitchen where Aunt Doreen, dressed in a terry cloth robe and head full of pink spongey hair curlers, is pushing her fat tabby cat from the kitchen table. “Bloody moggy.” She scoots it away from an earthenware teapot, patting her silver-blond hair. “Oh, pretty!” she coos as her gaze snags on the flowers in my hand.


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