“Chocolate?” I simply can’t stop myself. André is the executive chef at Éternité and a culinary genius. If he put it on the menu, it’s going to be epic.
Salazar inclines his head, winks and oh so slowly pushes the box in my direction.
Damn it. I know I’ve lost because I can’t stay mad and also have the damned chocolate crème brûlée. I open the box and see two elegant, almost dainty, desserts sitting in the box. André is French to the core; he thinks the American practice of stuffing ourselves with tarts, cake and custards the size of our heads is piggish and revolting. So items from Éternité tend to be smaller, as they are in France.
I pick up the included fork and take a bite of the chocolate one first. The rich, creamy flavor fills my mouth, and I close my eyes as a near-orgasmic pleasure shivers through every cell in my body. Who needs sex when you have this?
“Good, isn’t it?” Salazar murmurs.
“Very.” I lick my lips, then hit send on my email. “I just sent you the revised itinerary.”
“Great.” He hitches up one pant leg and puts half his butt on my desk. “So. Kim.”
“Yes?” I say, knowing he’s about to explain the situation. I’m not going to make it easy for him, even if he basically brought me an oral orgasm in a box.
“About that whole thing at lunch…”
“You mean that thing where you bet me like a piece of meat? Yes, I do believe I recall that.”
He sighs. “He wasn’t supposed to talk about it like that. Kids these days. No discretion.”
“Right. It’s totally Dane’s fault that you bet me.”
“Dane and I did have a little bet.” He says it like he misplaced a dime somewhere. “I lost, and he’s supposed to get a month of your assistant service.”
“Didn’t you think it was weird he asked for that? He has a team of assistants, and they’re fantastic.”
“He wanted you for his friend there, but said it was mainly about the wedding date.” Salazar shrugs. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” My voice rises, so I take a bite of the divine dessert to help control my temper. Annoyingly enough, it helps. “You…you just gave me away like an old toy you don’t want anymore. I’ve been with you for almost five years.”
Salazar’s eyes widen. “No, no, no, no, I’m just lending you. I’d never give you away! You’re the best assistant I’ve ever had, plus you’re super hot, which makes me look great in meetings.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Salazar. I’m about to get my five-year bonus, and I don’t want this Dane bet thing to jeopardize it.”
Salazar makes a spreading motion with his hands. “A separate matter altogether,” he says with solemnity befitting a royal coronation.
I nod, accepting that he’s serious. He might be a self-absorbed, over-the-top billionaire, he doesn’t lie about things like this. “What was the bet about? There’s no way Dane has something you want.”
“Well. I was drunk and got…taken advantage of.”
I give him a look. Salazar Pryce could drink double his body weight and still walk a tightrope. Everyone in his family can. And nobody takes advantage of him unless he wants it.
“Can’t hold my liquor like I used to,” he says. “Gettin’ old here.”
“Right.” So now he can only drink one and a half times his body weight. Let me go grab a Kleenex.
“And we did rock paper scissors ten times.”
“Rock paper scissors?” This is even dumber than his claiming he can’t drink like he used to. I can hear my brain cells screaming as they die.
“He won three times, I won three and the rest we tied.”
I can’t decide if I should cry or bang my head against the wall. It wasn’t even a real, dignified bet.
“Anyway, he wasn’t supposed to say anything. It’s embarrassing to talk details like that.”
“What about me?” Doesn’t he think it’s embarrassingly ridiculous for me as well?
“Oh, no need to worry. I’m not a total asshole, so while you’re working for Dane—well, his friend—I’m giving you a paid month off.”
I stare, trying to decide if he’s being intentionally obtuse or really is just this self-involved.
“And I made it clear you’re not to work a second over forty hours a week.” He spreads his hands with a magnanimous smile. “You deserve it,” he adds, the very definition of an accommodating boss. But only because he’s mildly embarrassed I found out about his dumb bet.
God. I want to wipe that smug “I know I’m forgiven already” look off his face. “Aren’t you afraid I might leave you for Wyatt?” I ask.
“Nah.”
“How come?”
“Because if you liked the idea of working for him, you wouldn’t be all mad about the bet.” Salazar can be self-involved, but he’s not stupid. “And I guarantee he isn’t as generous with rewards and bonuses as I am.”
That part is true. Other than the five-year half-a-million-dollar bonus, Salazar has also given me semi-annual bonuses, worth about twenty percent of my salary, every year.
He continues, “Just grin and bear it for a month, okay? The guy’s good looking enough. How hard could it be to go out with him once or twice?”
Typical male. “It’d probably be easier to get clean in a mud bath,” I say. Salazar needs to stop because I think I feel hives breaking out. That’s the only explanation for the shortness of breath I’m experiencing.
“But you’re not dating anyone, right?”
“That isn’t the point.”
“If he makes any unwanted advances, let me know.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“Remember my Aston Martin? The DB5?”
“Yeah…” It’s the same model that Sean Connery’s double-oh-seven drove. The license tag reads 2HOT4U. Salazar loves that car more than his own balls, and not even his children are allowed to touch it.
“I’ll let you run him over with it.”
My jaw drops. “You will?”
He taps the tip of his chin. “Actually…”
Ha! Should’ve known. He’s feeling guilty, but not that guilty.
“I’ll do it for you.”
Chapter Six
Kim
I spend the rest of the day pretending the lunch never happened, even though Salazar keeps shooting hopeful looks in my direction. I know he’s big on keeping his promises, but if it matters that much, he should’ve bet himself, not me. There’s no way I’m going to be Wyatt’s date for anything. Not even for the chocolate crème brûlée. Four weeks’ pay certainly isn’t enough. I’d rather work in a salt mine.
For free.
And Salazar made the tactical error of telling me it won’t affect my five-year bonus, so I have even less reason to bother.
As soon as my laptop clock says it’s five, I go to the barre studio to work out with Hilary and Jo. The three of us hit the studio two or three times a week, partly to exercise and stay healthy, partly to socialize and catch up. If we don’t make an effort, we don’t get to hang out with each other, especially with Hilary being married and her husband wanting her to spend time with him, too.