by Kendall Ryan
I’m about to turn and put my back to her again so I don’t have to feel like I’ve been sucker punched every time I look at her, but I’m struck with an idea. My mouth starts moving before my brain has processed what I’m about to say.
“Actually, maybe you could help me with the manuscript. Ryder said you’re good with this kind of stuff.”
Sienna side-eyes me. “I stopped writing essays for other people in, like, the eleventh grade.”
“No, I don’t need that,” I tell her in all seriousness. “I know what I want to say. Maybe you could read some of it, point out where it’s lacking, help me create a writing schedule so I can stay on track. Things like that.”
“In that case, Ryder’s right. I’m your gal.” She smiles, and the ache returns.
Damn it, Case. Get your head on straight.
“So, what about you?” I ask. “I know this job isn’t your be-all and end-all, just a stopover before world domination or some shit. I think Ryder’s exact description of you was something like ‘the smartest thing since sliced bread.’”
She shifts uncomfortably, a slight smile flickering for a second before it disappears. “Of course Ryder said something like that. I think I just had an easier time in school than he did. I studied business in college, but by the time I got to the end of it, I wasn’t sure about what I wanted to do with my degree. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it, it’s just . . . never mind.”
“Tell me.”
Sienna looks so vulnerable and young for a minute. She restacks the folders on her desk, not meeting my eyes, but doesn’t say anything.
Prompting her, I ask, “So, what do you want to do instead of running the world?”
“I’m not really sure yet. I just know I want to be doing something I actually enjoy.”
“Like helping keep a male escort on track writing his book on the importance of female pleasure in the bedroom?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
We both laugh, and she shakes her head, then tosses her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“But, seriously. I could actually use your help here, and it would mean less spreadsheet work.” Help has never been a word used much in my vocabulary, but I guess it’s time to finally accept that I need some.
“Fine. I will be your task master to help you get your mom that dream house.” Sienna grins before returning to her paperwork.
Smart, beautiful, and driven? The more I get to know Sienna, the easier it is to forget that she’s my best friend’s little sister.
It was a relief when she agreed to help me with my book. If her performance so far has made one thing clear, it’s that time management is her jam. And it’s only her third day.
Suddenly, I don’t feel nearly as nervous about meeting my deadline, no matter how worried Charlie might be that I won’t follow through.
The only thing making a small knot of worry form in my stomach?
The fact that Ryder’s little sister happens to be the only woman who can make my man meat move.
Chapter Four
Sienna
Fourteen seconds.
From the moment I step through the door of Ryder’s apartment, that’s all the time it takes for me to book it to my room, ditch these work clothes for pajamas, and flop onto my bed. Fourteen freaking seconds. Somebody call the Guinness Book of World Records, because whatever the land speed record is, I think I just shattered it.
Spread out like a starfish across the bed, I release a long, relieved breath, my body sinking into the mattress. I haven’t been this tired for as long as I can remember. Data entry might not be the most challenging work in the world, but goodness does it zap the life right out of you.
My college years brought me my fair share of coffee-fueled all-nighters, but they never left me half as exhausted as my day of sharing an office with Case did. I remember Ryder’s comment on our drive to work that first morning about how “Case is fuckin’ awesome.” After just a few days of knowing him, I have a long list of words I’d use to describe my new boss. “Fuckin’ awesome” isn’t anywhere on that list.
Just as I let my eyes slip closed, there’s a knock at my door, followed by a muted voice calling, “Is it safe to come in?”
I chuckle, remembering all the times Ryder used to ask that when we were growing up. Even when I said yes, he would always walk into my bedroom with one hand over his eyes, just in case.
“Yup, you’re good, Ryd.”
I prop myself up onto my elbows in time to watch Ryder wander in with a hand over his eyes. He’s changed into comfy clothes too. Like brother, like sister.
“Coast is clear, I promise,” I say, and he peels the hand off his eyes, a smile making his mouth twitch.
“I’m thinking about ordering a pizza. You want in?”
“I haven’t been grocery shopping yet, so I guess I should probably order something.”
“I’ve got leftovers of the chicken I made last night, if you’d rather have that. I just thought it’d be fun to celebrate your first week of work.”
“You actually cooked?” I gasp. I went out with Allison last night, leaving Ryder to fend for himself. “The king of takeout knows how to work an oven? Stop the presses. Call Channel Five.”
“Hey, the king of takeout stepped down from the throne a long time ago,” Ryder says defensively. “I’ve got a figure to maintain. My job kinda depends on it.”
“Makes sense.” I shrug. “Sometimes I forget you’re a full-fledged adult now.”
He laughs in agreement. “That makes two of us. But you’ve graduated now, which means we’ve got two full-fledged adults in this apartment.”
“I’m pretty sure adulthood doesn’t kick in until I get my first paycheck,” I tease, folding my arms over my chest.
“Fair. In that case, pizza’s on me. You still like veggie and sausage?”
I smile and give him a quick nod, impressed that he remembers my topping preferences.
“Cool. I’ll call it in. They usually deliver within the hour.”
Ryder disappears from the doorway and I reach for my phone. I had plans to finish unpacking tonight, but a much more important project has come up for this evening—digging through Case’s social media. A quick search of his name pulls up his profiles in the blink of an eye, but every one I click on is set to private.
Damn it. I guess if you work in this business, you have to keep your personal life under wraps.
I opt for an image search instead and quite a few pictures of him surface, mostly shots of him at a gala for a nonprofit organization in town. Huh. A male escort with a philanthropic side. I never would have known. Then again, I’ll bet there’s a lot about him that I don’t know. He’s a puzzle I plan to spend the summer solving, piece by piece. I have nothing better to do, cooped up with him inside an office eight hours a day.
I have to admit, as exhausting as this man may be, there’s something about him that intrigues me. Maybe it’s the way he commands the attention of anyone in the room, myself included. Or maybe it’s the fact that this whole million-dollar company rests entirely between his legs.
Swiping through gala pictures, I zoom in on each one. Could any of these women he’s standing with be his date? An old girlfriend, perhaps? Or do escorts hire other escorts to go to events like this?
My phone buzzes in my hand with a text from Allison, asking me what I’m doing.
What am I doing? Why am I stalking my boss looking for clues about his romantic life? Why do I even care?
Boss or not, he’s not even my type. I’ve always dated nice guys, brainy guys, the occasional jock here and there. Case isn’t any of those things.
I’m sure he’s at least kind of smart—it takes some brains to run such a successful business. But nice? Not by a long shot. And as for being a jock, somehow I think he may have built those bulging biceps and strong quads in the bedroom rather than the weight room.
Judging by my first impressions, he’s more of the manwhore-asshole type.
Well, maybe it’s not fair to call him a manwhore. According to Ryder, the man’s practically a monk unless he’s doing business. But if he can afford a mansion like that, he has to be doing business a whole lot. And by business, I mean boinking—a lot.
By the way he talked to me today, he obviously knows exactly how good he is at his job. The man probably thinks he’s God’s gift to women. And that gets on every single one of my nerves.
So after three full days of either being ignored by Case or dodging his pretentious comments, why am I still looking at this picture of him at the gala? I’m practically hypnotized by the way that tux looks over his broad shoulders, and even in pictures, he’s got the same laser stare he was drilling me with all day today. It seemed so aggressive in the office, but now, there’s almost something alluring about it. I wouldn’t mind getting lost in that intense stare.
What the hell am I thinking?
I close out of the pictures of him, my screen replaced by the happy beach sunset on my background. I guess this is proof I really do need to get laid this summer.
• • •
“Why are you here so early?”
It’s 7:45 a.m. when I step through the door to Case’s office. A whole hour and a half earlier than when I arrived yesterday. I was hoping the boss wouldn’t be in yet, that I could have a little time to myself to make a cup of coffee and get my bearings before he arrived, but no such luck. He’s already behind his desk, halfway through yet another pile of paperwork, and seemingly unimpressed with my early arrival.
“Ryder dropped me off on his way to the gym. What’s your excuse?” I ask, resting a hand sassily on my hip.
“Maybe you forgot, but I live here,” Case says matter-of-factly.
“Oh, right,” I say with an embarrassed giggle. “I guess that’s one of the perks of having your office in your house, huh? You can just roll out of bed.”
Case’s eyes narrow into slits, challenging me as his mouth twitches into a smirk. “Why do you say that?” he asks, pushing up the sleeves of his formfitting blue button-down. “Do you think this is what I wear to bed?”
“I have no plans to find out what you wear to bed.” My cheeks heat up. Shit, Sienna. Do you ever think before you open your mouth? I chomp down on my lower lip to keep myself from making some sassy remark about how most of his work takes place in a bed anyway.
Instead, I elect not to respond and scamper over to my desk, settling in for the day. Not that I’ll have any work to start on until Case sends a project my way. Maybe I should remind him that he’s paying me by the hour, whether he gives me work or not.
Before I have a chance to get a word in, an unfamiliar voice interrupts my train of thought.
“Well, if it isn’t the legend himself.”
A tall, chiseled man with dark hair and a short beard is taking up most of the door frame. Another escort, I assume, but he doesn’t look familiar. Definitely not one of the guys Ryder said hello to yesterday. I would have remembered the beard and the bright, inquisitive eyes.
“Nic! Fuck, man, it’s been too long. Damn, it’s good to see you.” A genuine smile spreads across Case’s face, a welcome change from his usual conceited smirk.
As Nic enters the room, Case gets up from his desk to give him a firm handshake that turns into a familiar bro hug.
“Sienna, this is Nic. Nic, Sienna. You remember Ryder? This is his sister. She’s helping me out this summer.”
I wiggle my fingers in a polite wave, and Nic gives me a friendly nod.
“Have a minute or two to catch up?” Nic asks Case, who glances at me.
Taking that as my cue to give them a minute alone, I hop out of my desk chair. “I was just about to go grab a cup of coffee. Do either of you want anything?” Nic and Case both turn down the offer, and I scurry out the door, on my way to the kitchen.
“How’s the wife?” Case asks.
Their deep voices carry easily down the hall, where I add water to the countertop café machine.
“Elle is great. The baby is due in three months already. I can hardly believe how fast the pregnancy has flown by.”
A wife and a baby? Interesting. I didn’t even know it was possible for an escort to be married with a family. I don’t think I know a woman in her right mind who would be comfortable with her husband renting out his dick to a different customer every night, even if they are paying top dollar for it. Based on all the luxury cars outside, I’d say all of these guys must have YOU MUST BE THIS RICH TO RIDE emblazoned on their boxers.
“Congrats, man,” Case says. “A wife and a baby. I can’t even imagine. It seems like you got out of this business at the perfect time.”
Ah, he’s an ex-escort. That makes a lot more sense. It’s also certainly less dramatic. The details of the married life of a former escort are probably not worth running the risk of being caught eavesdropping.
I busy myself with placing a coffee pod into the machine and press the button as it hisses to life. I’m reaching for a mug when Case says something quietly that stops me in my tracks.
“There are days I feel like getting out too.”
“No shit?” Nic asks, his voice suddenly hushed and serious.
My fingers curl around the ceramic and I freeze, curiosity burning wildly inside me.
“Don’t start spreading rumors. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got a business to run. I’m just saying I get why you left. It gets old, man. And tiring.”
Nic’s laugh echoes through the room. “Well, goddamn. I never thought I’d see the day Case Smith got sick of fucking a different woman seven days a week.”
“I only take a few clients a week now. The ones who are really willing to shell out the cash and don’t want any dick but mine. But even that gets old when I’ve got a hundred other things on my plate. Hell, I’ve got a book deadline I’ve gotta hit.”
The two of them launch into a conversation about the book, which seems like a good opportunity for me to make good on that cup of coffee I claimed to be getting. I go to the fridge and extract a container of cream.
Although Case turned down my offer for coffee, I remember what he said about this job getting tiring, and I brew him a cup anyway. He probably needs every ounce of caffeine he can get. I’ve been so in my head about how weird and awkward Case’s job is that I haven’t once stopped to consider that it must take a lot out of him. He’s not just some arrogant fucking machine. He’s a human being. He might even have a heart in there somewhere.
When I return to Case’s office, a full mug in each hand, Nic is already halfway out the door. He gives me a quick “nice to meet you” as we pass each other on my way in to set the coffees down, one on my desk, and one on Case’s.
“Did I ask for coffee? I don’t think I did.”
“No. But I figured you could use it. You must have been up early.” I shuffle back to my desk and settle into my chair to take my first sip.
Case does the same, pressing his mug against his lower lip and taking a slow, satisfied sip before shifting back into work mode. “Did you finish sorting through those budget reports yesterday?”
“I did. And actually, I wanted to ask you about something I noticed in those files. I didn’t know you made such a solid philanthropic contribution every year.”
This is a bit of a lie. I did see the reports, but that isn’t what has me so curious about Case’s philanthropy. It seems safer to leave out the fact that my interest budded from some light internet stalking.
“I try to contribute where I can,” he says, his tone far humbler than I was expecting.
“What kind of organizations do you support?”
Case cocks one eyebrow. He’s clearly confused by my sudden interest in his charitable side.
“I took a class in corporate philanthropy,” I say quickly. Another lie. “You know, for my business degree?” Case’s expression relaxes, and so do I.
“It’s really just one organization in the arts. My company is a major contributor to a ballet studio across
town. The owner is a friend of mine.”
“That’s really cool. I love dance.”
I can practically feel the twinkle appearing in my eye, and Case notices immediately. He turns away from his computer screen and gives me his full attention, and for once, he isn’t trying to knock me over with that unforgiving stare. His expression is softer, calmer.
“That’s right, Ryder mentioned once you were a ballerina or something, weren’t you?”
My cheeks heat up, the flush spreading down to my chest. “I would hardly call myself that. More of a retired dancer at this point. It was my minor in college. Although I would be dancing all the time if I could be.”
“Then why aren’t you?” His brows pull together as though he’s trying to figure me out. For the first time since I started working here, he’s showing genuine interest in me.
It’s day four on this job—am I really about to spill my guts to my boss? Then again, I did just listen to him spill his guts to Nic. Maybe if I’m more vulnerable with him, he’ll be more human with me.
I drum my fingers nervously against the side of my coffee mug. “Have you ever seen a ballerina with curves?”
Case shoots me a puzzled look. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
I shrug, taking a sip of coffee. “I was a great dancer. I still am. But I’ve never had a dancer’s body. I’m not nearly thin enough. Casting directors would see my body and not even give me the time of day to dance for them, so what’s the point?”
Case nods, but the silence between us is more uncomfortable than these heels. I should have kept my mouth shut about this.
“Anyway,” I blurt, steering the conversation anywhere but here, “we should get to work on your book if you’re ever going to make your deadline.”
“You’re right,” Case says. “I’ve got a chapter for you to proofread now.”
“Finally, some real work,” I tease.
Case cracks a half smile as he shifts his attention back to his computer. It’s silent again, a more comfortable silence, as he clicks his mouse a few times. “Thanks again for your help.”
Another thank-you? I must be doing something right.