Chapter 3

RULE #2: NO POUTING.

Musa

Why is she giving me that look? The pin-up lookalike with the blunt fringe and the very lovely curves is kneeling on the floor next to my desk, and she's… pouting. Her red lips are pursed, and she's just gazing up at me while I drink my coffee. Everything she should not be doing.

This is a cry for attention, which makes sense, considering my attention is exactly what brought her here in the first place. I am literally paying her to earn a soft pat on the head or a small word of praise — earn being the operative word. So far, this one has done nothing but patronise me with all the theatrics, and I'm about two seconds away from putting her out the door. Literally.

If you want my attention, you have to earn it first. Behave. Do as I say. Otherwise, stay quiet. That's not me being a doos; that is literally the scene we're playing, but this one isn't playing by the rules. She knew exactly what she was signing up for when she took this job.

"Eyes on the floor," I command without looking at her.

There's a disgruntled huff that escapes her lips before she turns her gaze down. I sincerely hope she isn't interested in being a brat, because that is definitely not my style, and it said so quite clearly in the application.

The next three hours of her shift are almost unbearable, but I'm a gentleman, so I let her stay. She brings me my lunch, rests her opulent tits on my thighs when I put my feet up during a boring conference call, and even earns a stroke of her cheek when she manages to stay completely silent while I write an email.