Seven Days With Her Boss

By: Penny Wylder

I tense, ready for the crash, but heat envelopes me before I can hit the floor. My shoulders jolt out of the fall, and somewhere beyond the weight tugging me flat and forward, I feel arms around me holding me gently until I’m laying on the rug.

Finally holding still, the attack recedes, leaving me to stare up at Kodiche who is kneeling over me, one hand on my cheek as he looks at me with this odd, worried expression. It’s out of place on his face. He doesn’t look like the cold boss who would ask me to be his robot for a week, and the heat of his hand is making my nipples tighten and letting me know that oh, hell yes, I would like to do anything he asks of me . . . Any last thing.

Blushing, I push my boss off me and scoot back on the rug.

Kodiche stands, all semblance of the worried human version of himself gone beyond the icy mask. He really is the Kodiak bear my coworkers call him.

“Your answer, Vivian?”

I try to give him a much braver smile than I’m feeling. “I’ll do it, Mr. Lamant. I’ll do anything.”


“This will be your room for the week, unless I choose differently.” He could just as easily be ordering takeout for a lunch meeting. Mr. Lamant opens the door to one of the bedrooms, and points out a door to a bathroom. “My room is through this adjoining bathroom, through my closet. I want you close by this entire week of training should I need you.” A hint of fire smolders in his eyes, giving me no questions what he means by “needing me.”

I have to stay the night? That is way outside my comfort zone.

“Seven days is seven full days of twenty-four hours each,” he tells me as if he read my mind. I hope he hasn’t seen all the dirty thoughts I’ve had about him.

The bed is not as luxurious as the one from the princess room I saw on my tour, but the mattress springs back when I push on it. It will be very comfortable—if he allows me to sleep on it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to further humiliate me by making me sleep on the floor. “Thank you, Mr. Lamant,” I say in dismissal, hoping to have just a few minutes to compose myself.

Warmth blossoms on the back of my neck, a teasing breath exhaled across my skin. “You are welcome.” He’s so close behind me I can’t even jump at the surprise. I can smell him; I’m going to smell like him. And the heat . . . I can feel all his body heat through his shirt, and I can’t help but picture his muscles. Having had his strong hands on me, brief though it was, it’s impossible to stop the wave of desire blooming in my traitorous body.

“I picked up some items you’ll need for your first task. There are boxes on the desk for you. Open them.” He lets me go, stepping back just enough that I don’t have to brush against his crotch or climb across the bed to get away.

Boxes are fairly harmless, right? The white lid lifts away easily, but what’s inside makes me blush. Heels higher than I’ve ever worn, a skirt that will barely cover my ass, a tight blouse that is almost too sheer to wear out of the bedroom, and very sexy lingerie. I don’t think I’ve ever owned anything this risqué. The black lace won’t hide anything, but that’s probably the point.

My mouth goes dry, and I must be beet red as I look up at Mr. Lamant. I’m gawking, not an attractive expression, but I can’t help it. These are scandalous!

“Your first task is to learn to do what I say, when I say it. You will follow my guidelines . . . and my tastes,” he adds after a heavy pause.

I want to tell him that his tastes are really fucking dirty. Instead, I hold my tongue and debate again if this is worth my job. Not even when I was in a long-term relationship would I have worn things such as he bought for me. But, I can dress up like a slutty Barbie if that’s what he wants. It’s not like anyone else will see; we are the only ones here after all.

Sensing my acquiescence to this first task, he tells me to strip.

Strip? In front of him? “I can’t.” That’s just too much. I tell him as such, voice shaking as I tell him that stripping for him is too much.

Mr. Lamant steps aside, his muscles clenching as he points to the door. “You’re free to leave then, Vivian. If you can’t do this much, this little task, you cannot handle what I have in store for you.” He’s so calm that it’s frightening. I’d expected anger at my refusal, not indifference.

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