Chapter 3
808 Words
“I expected an assistant. Instead, I got the man who made me come with his fingers in a hallway.”
BrownTech didn’t look like a company that built apps and software. It looked like it built empires.
The lobby alone was bigger than my entire apartment floor. Clean white marble, gold accents, glass walls so clear it felt like I was floating. Everyone in the room wore tailored suits, heels that didn’t scuff, and faces that screamed I don’t have time for bullshit.
I felt like an imposter the second I stepped in.
I wasn’t even sure I’d dressed right. I’d borrowed a blazer from my roommate, pulled my curls into a low bun, and wore nude lipstick instead of red. Underneath, though? Lace panties and a matching bra — the expensive kind, black and soft and way too confident.
Just in case.
The receptionist gave me a once-over, then pointed me toward the top floor.
“Conference Room 23. They’re waiting for you.”
They?
I nodded like I wasn’t spiraling inside and took the elevator.
My palms were sweating by the time the doors opened. I wiped them against my skirt and walked the long hallway lined with framed magazine covers — all featuring one name at the top in bold silver letters.
JASON BROWN.
God, this was stupid. What was I doing here?
I should’ve been studying. Taking care of my mom. Filing shifts at The Ruby Room. But instead I was here, chasing the man who made me c*m with two fingers and then disappeared like it meant nothing.
Except it hadn’t meant nothing.
Not to him.
Not with the way he looked at me.
I reached the conference room and knocked.
“Come in,” a voice said.
Not just any voice.
His.
I froze.
Wait — no. He wouldn’t. The CEO? He didn’t do interviews. He had people for that. Whole departments.
I opened the door.
And there he was.
Jason Brown.
Leaning back in a chair at the far end of a sleek black table, wearing a grey suit that looked painted onto him. No tie. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease. His expression was blank, but his eyes?
Locked.
On.
Me.
“Clara Asbet,” he said. “Right on time.”
My mouth went dry.
“You’re… conducting the interview?”
His gaze dropped to my legs, then slowly came back up.
“I make exceptions.”
I sat down, my pulse pounding. The chair felt too low. Or maybe the table was too high. Or maybe it was just him — sitting there like a man who already knew every dirty thing I’d done with his fingers still inside me.
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just let the silence stretch between us like a rope waiting to snap.
Then: “Tell me, Clara. Why apply here?”
I blinked.
That was a real question.
I swallowed. “I’m in my final year of nursing school. I’m organized. I know how to work under pressure. And I’ve… learned how to manage complicated people.”
He didn’t smile, but something flickered in his expression.
“Is that what you think I am? Complicated?”
I stared at him.
“No,” I said slowly. “I think you’re a man who doesn’t waste time.”
His brow lifted just slightly. “Smart answer.”
He reached across the table and slid a file toward him — my résumé, probably. I couldn’t focus. My skin was on fire.
He hadn’t even touched me, and I felt like I was already being undressed.
He didn’t ask about my degree. Or my work history. Or my availability.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair and said:
“You’re not here because you need a job. You’re here because you want to finish what we started.”
I swallowed hard.
“And you’re interviewing me because you do, too,” I shot back.
Silence.
Then, he stood.
Walked slowly around the table.
My breath caught when he came behind me — close enough that I could smell his cologne, feel the heat from his body.
He leaned down, lips brushing my ear. “If I hire you, Clara, you’ll be mine from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. Monday through Friday.”
He let that settle. Then added:
“And maybe longer. If I decide I want more.”
My thighs clenched.
I turned my head slightly, my voice steady. “Are those the official hours of the position?”
He smirked, stepping back.
“You’ll start Monday.”
Just like that.
No contract. No HR rep. No offer letter.
Just a billionaire with a hard-on for control and a girl stupid enough to walk into the lion’s mouth.
But I didn’t flinch.
I smiled.
“See you Monday, Mr. Brown.”
- Writer
