Read Online Romance: A Virgin For The Tiger: BBW Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance (BBW Shifter Romance) by Ashley Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ashley Hunter
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discussed on the phone. Bring him his coffee the moment he comes in the door, write down everything he says, and just please don’t talk back or make eye-contact. I really stuck my neck out for you because Mary helped me a few months back, and if you make me look bad—“
“Why, oh why,” a man’s sing-song voice carried through the floor, “am I looking at an old ass bent over a desk?”
“Mr. Delacroix,” Susanne said, shooting up straight and spinning around.
“You’re early.”
“Am I not allowed to come in and run my own business? I’m sorry, I didn’t get the email saying you were in charge now.”
“No,” she said, looking down.
“I just meant, I was just giving young Bernadette here the tips on—“
“Black,” Delacroix said, looking at Bernadette. It was as though Susanne had simply disappeared from his mind.
“Excuse me?” Bernadette asked.
“Black.”
“I don’t—“
“Black!” Then, turning to a stunned Susanne, “Why are you still here?”
The woman jumped, and shot a look at Bernadette that said “good luck” and she scurried away.
“Black,” he said again. “Black. Black.”
Bernadette, flustered, ran her hands along her desk and held up a ball-point pen.
“What the—“ he said, grabbing the pen and throwing it disdainfully to the side. “Now! Black! Go!”
Right, the coffee!
Delacroix slapped his hand on the desk with each word as he shouted, “Now, now, now, go!”
Bernadette jumped from her chair, nearly tripping over her new shoes, and hurried off to the coffee station.
Was he serious with this? Mary had mentioned he was a little difficult to work for, but this… A little difficult? The man was a petulant child!
Bernadette shook her head as she poured coffee into a disposable cup. If this kept up, she wasn’t sure how long she could take it.
After years of putting up with drunk patrons, she thought anything would be better than that crap town.
Now, she found herself missing it. At least it was stable work that she knew.
Bernadette stepped quickly, trying to not spill the coffee and failing. The hot liquid splashed over the side, burning her fingers. Not wanting to waste more time, she just hissed at the pain and kept going.
Her 33 year old boss was in his office. He’d taken off his coat and sat at his desk, organizing some paperwork.
Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped to the side of the desk and set the cup on the edge.
The man’s hand snapped out in a flash, hitting the cup and spilling the coffee on the floor.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked her.
Bernadette stared with an open mouth as the huge coffee stain on the gray carpet.
“I asked you a question. You do speak English, yes?”
“Y-yes,” she said, pulling her eyes away and looking at him.
“I do, sir. Nothing is wrong with me. What the he—“ The look in his eye cut off the sentence for her, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“My coffee,” he said slowly, “goes here.”
Shocked, Bernadette watched his impertinent little finger rise and touch on a coaster at the front of his desk.
“I see.”
“Do you see this? This ring you’ve put on my $60,000 desk? If this isn’t cleaned up in 30 seconds, I’ll deem the entire piece of furniture trashed. And do you know who will be buying me a new desk?”
“Me.”
“Correct. Do you have $60,000? Because I’ll want an exact replica of this one.”
“No sir, I don’t.”
“You don’t. Well that’s unfortunate, because you’re still standing there. 17 seconds.”
Bernadette looked around, instantly frantic for a rag or something to wipe away the coffee stain.
For the briefest moment, she considered grabbing his coat and wiping up the coffee with that, but that struck her as an idea slightly worse than simply throwing herself
“Why, oh why,” a man’s sing-song voice carried through the floor, “am I looking at an old ass bent over a desk?”
“Mr. Delacroix,” Susanne said, shooting up straight and spinning around.
“You’re early.”
“Am I not allowed to come in and run my own business? I’m sorry, I didn’t get the email saying you were in charge now.”
“No,” she said, looking down.
“I just meant, I was just giving young Bernadette here the tips on—“
“Black,” Delacroix said, looking at Bernadette. It was as though Susanne had simply disappeared from his mind.
“Excuse me?” Bernadette asked.
“Black.”
“I don’t—“
“Black!” Then, turning to a stunned Susanne, “Why are you still here?”
The woman jumped, and shot a look at Bernadette that said “good luck” and she scurried away.
“Black,” he said again. “Black. Black.”
Bernadette, flustered, ran her hands along her desk and held up a ball-point pen.
“What the—“ he said, grabbing the pen and throwing it disdainfully to the side. “Now! Black! Go!”
Right, the coffee!
Delacroix slapped his hand on the desk with each word as he shouted, “Now, now, now, go!”
Bernadette jumped from her chair, nearly tripping over her new shoes, and hurried off to the coffee station.
Was he serious with this? Mary had mentioned he was a little difficult to work for, but this… A little difficult? The man was a petulant child!
Bernadette shook her head as she poured coffee into a disposable cup. If this kept up, she wasn’t sure how long she could take it.
After years of putting up with drunk patrons, she thought anything would be better than that crap town.
Now, she found herself missing it. At least it was stable work that she knew.
Bernadette stepped quickly, trying to not spill the coffee and failing. The hot liquid splashed over the side, burning her fingers. Not wanting to waste more time, she just hissed at the pain and kept going.
Her 33 year old boss was in his office. He’d taken off his coat and sat at his desk, organizing some paperwork.
Not wanting to disturb him, she stepped to the side of the desk and set the cup on the edge.
The man’s hand snapped out in a flash, hitting the cup and spilling the coffee on the floor.
“What the hell is the matter with you?” he asked her.
Bernadette stared with an open mouth as the huge coffee stain on the gray carpet.
“I asked you a question. You do speak English, yes?”
“Y-yes,” she said, pulling her eyes away and looking at him.
“I do, sir. Nothing is wrong with me. What the he—“ The look in his eye cut off the sentence for her, and she clamped her mouth shut.
“My coffee,” he said slowly, “goes here.”
Shocked, Bernadette watched his impertinent little finger rise and touch on a coaster at the front of his desk.
“I see.”
“Do you see this? This ring you’ve put on my $60,000 desk? If this isn’t cleaned up in 30 seconds, I’ll deem the entire piece of furniture trashed. And do you know who will be buying me a new desk?”
“Me.”
“Correct. Do you have $60,000? Because I’ll want an exact replica of this one.”
“No sir, I don’t.”
“You don’t. Well that’s unfortunate, because you’re still standing there. 17 seconds.”
Bernadette looked around, instantly frantic for a rag or something to wipe away the coffee stain.
For the briefest moment, she considered grabbing his coat and wiping up the coffee with that, but that struck her as an idea slightly worse than simply throwing herself
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