So Toxic(Bad Boy Next Door Book 4)(8)

Two minutes later, Terri slams a stack of files onto the corner of my desk. “These need your signature if you think you can take a moment out of your busy origami schedule.”

I give her my Ken Doll smile. “Anything for you, beautiful.”

She stills for a millisecond, her face softening.

Women can’t resist a well-timed compliment.

“Oh, stop it, you scamp.” Terri turns, but not before she gives an exaggerated eye roll.

I flick the paper football. It flies across the room and bounces off her ass as she crosses the threshold to leave.

Terri disappears around the doorframe. Then her hand shoots into the opening as she flips me the bird.

I call after her. “Oh, Terr, admit it—if you were twenty-five years younger, you’d be all about this.”

The intercom beeps, and her voice is crisp. “If I were your age, you’d be all about this, and I’d put you in your place. Confidence is sexy. Arrogance, on the other hand, is just annoying, Tyson Masters.”

Arrogant? Me?

Nah.

Then again, this is the second time today that word has been used regarding me.

I hit the squawk box again. “Do me a favor, Terri. Find out why Josephina Jordan was in the building this morning.”

I’m halfway through the stack of contracts, signing next to all the little arrowed sticky strips, when Terri’s voice comes through the intercom.

“Miss Jordan had an interview with Leslie Bernard on the fourth floor.”

Fourth floor. Drafting and Design.

I ask Terri to get Bernie on the line for me.

“Hello.” He clears his throat. “Bernard speaking. What can I do for you, Mr. Masters?”

“Bern, how’s it going down there on Four?”

“Well, we’re almost finished with the Monk deal. I’m putting together my team for the Franchetti Project now.”

“And you’re hiring for Franchetti?”

“Yes, sir. I have a couple of open recs. Thought I’d add to the team. It’s a small project with a large window for completion. I figured it’s as good a time as any to get someone in and massage them into a first-class team member.”

Massage.

I can imagine my hands running over the curves JoJo didn’t hide so well under those yoga pants.

I shift in my chair, pulling my feet to the floor, in case Terri decides to come in unannounced, as she’s prone to doing. She’d have a field day if she saw that I’d popped a boner while on the phone with Leslie Fucking Bernard.

I ask, “Have you made a decision on whom you plan to hire?”

“Not yet. I have a couple of more interviews to do. Why? Do you have a recommendation?”

Do I? Should I help her get a job here? Does she even know that this is my company? Nah. Not a chance in hell would she have applied if she did. I’d almost stake last quarter’s profits on that.

“Tell you what—do your interviews, but let me know before you send out an offer letter.”

“Sure thing, boss. Quick question?”

“Yeah?”

“Was there a problem with my last few hires? If so, I was unaware.”

Fuck. This isn’t at all my style of dealing with my managers.

“Not at all. I just want to be informed.”

Asking for information isn’t really micro-managing. I’m the boss; I need to be aware of what’s going on with every aspect of my company. That’s reasonable. Right?





THREE





Stevie pushes through the front door. Fancy bags hang from the tips of all ten fingers, and even more packages are piled to her chin. She swings her ass until she catches the edge of the door. With a push of her ample tush, she slams it.

I hop up and grab the toppling boxes before they fall. “What on Earth did you buy? The entire Galleria?”

She grins. “Nope. Just the top floor.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Brat.”

“Bitch.” She winks.

“More in the car?”

Her smile widens and she bats her lashes.

I head outside.

Her voice follows me. “I think the new neighbors are going somewhere. It looks like they’re loading stuff.”

Good, perhaps Tyson is moving.

Jackass.

Sure enough, two other vehicles flank the jeep. All three are loaded with boxes.

Grabbing as many of the remaining bags from Stevie’s trunk as I can, I haul them inside. I hurry so I’ll miss Ty should he come outside to dish out another helping of humiliation. I step through our front door as Ty’s opens. Ignoring the pull of curiosity to step outside and take a look, I nudge our door with my foot. It doesn’t quite close.

“Did I hear them come out?” Stevie stage-whispers as she sprints to the door, swinging it open.

I drop my load in a heap and scramble to yank her inside, slamming the door. “Stevie! Don’t be creepy.”