16 Nikki
How do I get myself into these types of situations?
My eyes pierce that of Bronson’s and when his apparent smirk appears, I want to march over and stomp on his pride with my chucks.
He wants me to move in with him. As in move inside this huge penthouse that looks as though it could go on forever. He wants me to wake up on a thousand thread count sheets and live comfortably in downtown Manhattan on the top floor of the most expensive, luxurious penthouse?
I don’t think so.
“You have got to be kidding me.” I state flatly wondering if this man has hit his head in the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m not.”
“I’m not moving in with you. I don’t even know you.”
“And what are your other options?”
“Excuse me?” I stand and walk over to the fireplace, placing my drink down on the mantel. Facing him I cross my arms at my chest and give him my best death glare. It’s a beautiful place, this room in particular, but this isn’t an option for me. I can’t leave my brother, can’t leave the bandits and start over as if this is some king of weird fairy tale. I’m no Cinderella, more like one of the evil stepsisters.
“I’m simply stating that you do not have a lot of options. Rand has made me aware that you live with people that steal for a living. I didn’t turn you in to the police because I wanted to give you a chance to redeem yourself. I don’t normally give such luxuries, but you saved my life that night Nicole, and as wrong as it was that you were there to do what you did in the first place, I still owe you my life.”
His eyes cast down as he continues to speak, and I study his body language. He’s serious, that’s for sure, but I don’t think he is doing this for me. He’s one of those men that write checks for all his charities for the tax write offs, the kind of man that would never really go into a homeless shelter, a soup kitchen. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even rescue a damn puppy.
“So, you expect me to do what exactly? Walk around and count the dust bunnies in the corners?” Not that I would find any. Something tells me this place wouldn’t have a speck of dirt anywhere near it.
“I expect you to work.”
“What?”
“I have a job in line for you. I don’t need an assistant but a business partner of mine does and he has been looking for some time.”
“Assistant? I’m not some pencil skirt wearing type if you haven’t noticed.”
He shook his head with a small smile traced lightly on his lips. I could tell it was something Bronson hardly ever did, but it was also something I wouldn’t mind seeing again. He was beautiful in a rugged yet gentle sort of way. His eyes were a deep blue with small flakes of yellow, he was tall with broad shoulders and his hair was cut in a perfect style.
He’s breathtaking. And totally not my usual type.
“You’re no pushover Nicole, that much I can tell, but being an assistant isn’t a demeaning position. It’s fulfilling because it’s job, it’s something you can o to everyday, earn your way into the world and retire with a reasonable income. It’s in the corporate world, you could earn your GED while you work and–"
“Wait a minute, how do you know I don’t have my diploma?” I ask, my anger growing at lighting speed.
“I-I’ve had you looked into Nicole.”
He actually has the gall to look ashamed of his stalking. Great, just what I need. An arrogant jerk that has no problem crossing the line, all while he expects you to be appreciate of the entire concept.
“What?”
“I had to be sure of who I allowed in my home.”
“Did you ever think to just come and talk to me?”
“You really would have allowed that?” Rolling my eyes, I grab my drink and walk over the massive kitchen. I place it down on the counter and turn, crossing my arms at my chest.
