Excerpt!
“Are you kidding me?”
Stop squeaking.
I cleared my throat.
“Are you kidding me? Grayson—”
“Mr. Richmond,” Anthym interjected. “Mr. Richmond,” I seethed, “felt threatened? How dare he? I’m five feet tall when I stand up straight. People constantly stop me and ask me if I lost my mommy. I’m twenty-three and look like I’m twelve. He’s the richest man in Manhattan and literally owns multiple city blocks and one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, which is totally a phallic calling card, by the way, if we’re really going to get out the magnifying glass and suss out who’s being sexually aggressive to whom.”
I admit it was me who shouted, “Looking good, hot stuff!” at Mr. Richmond this morning, but I didn’t mean it like that.
Yes, Mrs. HR Lady, I know how it looks. Believe me, I am totally anti-catcalling, but that’s not what that was. Honest. I was paying him a compliment!
That’s kind of what I do: I’m a proud, small-town Floridian, and Manhattan is craving some Florida sunshine—nothing like a sincere compliment to turn those New York frowns upside down!
Grayson Richmond needs some positivity.
Have you seen how grumpy he is?
Sure, he’s the big boss, but I’m always at his house, so we’re kind of, well, not friends, that would be awkward, but like…
Okay, so no, I didn’t actually meet him until today. I only go to his penthouse to drop off the dry cleaning…
Wait, I’m sorry, he felt threatened? Are you kidding me?
I’m dead broke, my fashion style is Disney adult, and I’m five feet tall when I stand up straight. I’m twenty-three and look like I’m twelve. People constantly stop me and ask me if I lost my mommy.
Grayson is six foot five, one of the richest men in Manhattan, and literally owns multiple city blocks and two of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, which is, by the way, totally a phallic calling card.
Yes, I understand that Mr. Richmond takes these matters very seriously.
No, I’m not making a mockery of this company or of him.
Yes, I will return to my duties as Mr. Richmond’s lowly assistant of the assistant to the secretary.
No, I’m not being snarky. Believe me, my credit card debt and I are very happy to have this job.
Also, I hate to ask, but Mr. Richmond didn’t say anything about the notes of positive affirmation in his underwear drawer, did he?
It wasn’t anything awkward like “I want to bang you.” Because, you know, I don’t want to. Not at all.
Is he hot? Washboard abs, that jaw, those hands—phff yeah! After all, my momma didn’t raise no liar. But I’m not going to like, tell him, because that would be weird.
Wait, what? He wants to see me in his office? Now? Like now now?
Gulp!
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