Page 17 of Arranged Addiction

No wonder Declan isn’t here. He gets into the office at exactly eight every single day, and he expects me at my desk by eight-thirty sharp.

If he wasn’t going to fire me before, he sure as hell will now.

“You’re such an idiot,” I mutter to myself as I look around frantically. I find my clothes neatly folded at the foot of the bed and start yanking them on.

I almost miss the note written on yellow legal paper on top of my shoes. When I finally pick it up, my heart skips a beat.

It’s a list written in Declan’s perfect handwriting.

Casey, please finish the following tasks and be in the office by ten at the latest. If you oversleep, there will be consequences. D.

I shake my head as if the words somehow don’t make sense.

He’s letting me come in an hour and a half late? And threatening consequences?

In context, these consequences could be a very wide range of things, from a stern and professional lecture to a vicious fucking on his desk.

Am I seriously thinking about having sex with him again already?

There’s something deeply wrong with me.

“Alright, Boss Bastard, what stupid jobs do you have for me today?” I mutter to myself.

1. Bring my gym bag. It’s in the kitchen on the island.

2. Collect my dry cleaning.

3. Inform the driver that he will not be needed for lunch and will detail the car instead.

4. Print the Turner agreement and collate it properly.

5. Put on the ring.

I stare at the list and have to read it twice. All that seems normal until the very last entry.

Put on the ring? What does that mean?

I rack my brain trying to understand. Is that a job code I can’t remember? Or some kind of slang?

It makes no sense and I’m obsessing about it as I head downstairs, moving quietly like a mouse even though I know the apartment is empty.

Why would he care if I wear a ring? There’s no dress code around jewelry at the office. Is this some kind of sex game or something? Or just a new requirement? Maybe Mr. Whelan is going to be twice as strict now to compensate for what happened last night.

I’m confused and struggling to make sense of that last entry when I find the gym bag.

And the little black box beside it.

My heart thuds wildly in my chest.

That can’t be what it looks like.

Carefully, with shaking hands, I pick up the box.

The little black ring box.

This can’t be real. Why would Mr. Whelan give me something like this? Is he trying to bribe me for last night? Is he afraid I might report him to HR?

I can only imagine how that might go.