Mr. Bloomsbury – Mister Series Read Online Louise Bay

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78990 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
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Andrew glanced up. He didn’t speak but didn’t order me to leave, either. I took it as a win.

I set a three ring binder on his desk. “This is the research on the publishing industry that you asked me to do,” I said, without even saying hello. If I couldn’t beat him, I reasoned, I could join him. “It’s all summarized at the front of the pack. Jane Cohen called and wants you to call her back. She said you’d know what it was about. And the real estate trends figures you asked for are there, too. I’ve set it all out on email as well if you’d prefer to deal with it electronically.” Finally, I pulled a card from under my arm. “There’s this. An invitation to the opening of a building in Mayfair.”

The invitation was the only one to get his attention. “It was delivered here?” he said, taking it from me.

“This morning,” I said, stupidly delighted that he’d spoken to me. Out loud. “Shall I RSVP on your behalf?”

“No,” he said, his voice sharp.

“Fine,” I said, and turned to leave.

“It shouldn’t have been delivered here.” He sounded angry. Like an invitation arriving at the office was the worst thing that could possibly happen. “It’s from a friend.”

What a weirdo. Who would get their panties in a bunch because their friend had delivered an invitation to their work address? But I shouldn’t complain. He’d spoken to me. Even made eye contact. Though he was a total asshole, he hadn’t directly complained about what I was doing.

“Will I get paid tomorrow?” I asked. Natalie told me I’d get paid at the end of the month, and all I could think of was going out with Natalie and my new pay check to a fancy London cocktail bar. I wanted the chance to feel like I lived here, not just existed.

“It’s the end of the month,” he said.

“That’s not an answer.”

“Everyone who works here gets paid at the end of the month.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. I just couldn’t take it. When I looked back at him, he wore an expression that said, “Oh really? You want to sass me?” Shit. It was kinda sexy. And kinda frightening at the same time. Part of me wanted to push him just a little bit more. He looked like he might put me over his lap and spank me if I said another word. I wasn’t sure I’d object.

I managed to pull my sensible hat back on and got it together. I was going to have to try harder not to piss him off. I couldn’t lose this job. “I just mean that I don’t technically know if I’m on the payroll. I haven’t had a contract. Or a job title.”

“A hazard of barging in and sitting at a desk without an invitation.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. This wasn’t going well. If I wasn’t employed and earning, I had wasted a precious week and a half of job hunting.

“You’ll get paid tomorrow,” he said, holding my gaze for slightly too long. What was he about to say? Why were my cheeks burning like someone had set them alight? And why hadn’t I noticed how his eyes were an inky purple color?

“Get out,” he said, his words vile but his tone a little softer than usual.

Embarrassed at having overstayed my welcome, I almost ran out of his office and went straight to the restrooms.

I hadn’t turned into one of those women who found overbearing, domineering men who treated them badly attractive, had I?

There was no doubt Andrew was overbearing and domineering. There was no doubt he was rude, arrogant, surly, and demanding.

And there was also no doubt that I definitely, absolutely, and completely found him attractive.

Six

Sofia

I couldn’t wait to get home, pull out the one very short, very tight evening dress I’d brought with me, and fantasize about the fancy drink I’d order when Natalie and I hit the town tomorrow night. We’d drink, flirt with some inappropriate guys. Maybe I’d take someone home. It had been a while since I’d had sex and I wanted to know if British men were any closer to finding my G-spot than their clueless American counterparts.

“I’m back,” I called as I closed the door behind me. The coat rack seemed emptier than usual. Natalie must have been clearing up in between job hunts.

She appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, looking like someone had died.

“What’s the matter?” I dropped my bag on the floor and followed her into the sitting room.

“I have some news you’re not going to like.”

My mind started flicking through possibilities. Before my imagination could do more damage than whatever reality held in store, I took a breath. “Tell me.”

“Promise you won’t hate me?”

“Of course not.” I grabbed her hand and held it in mine. “What’s going on?”



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