Page 3 of The Bad Girl

“That’s a whole lot of tattoos.”

I snatch my phone away. “Well, you don’t have to like him.”

“And I’m not suggesting I should. I was merely concerned about his preferences is all.”

Oh no, he didn’t!

Folding my arms over my chest, I cut Maxwell a glare that would kill a lesser man, or at least shut him up.

“His preferences?” I return with a cocked brow.

“I mean, yeah, a guy like him likely prefers leather and stilettos to buns and cardigans.”

“And, of course, I can’t possibly be anything exciting.”

“Look, let’s not call an apple an orange. It’s one of the reasons we work so well together. If you came in here trooping around in fishnets and fuck-me heels, we’d hardly get anything done. Instead, your blonde hair is never out of place, and your cardigans always appropriate. You’re strict and orderly—traits a man like him probably doesn’t enjoy.”

“I’ll have you know, I can be just as exciting as any other woman in New York City.”

“Oh, really? Care to show me?”

“Pardon?”

“It’s just in the almost two years you’ve been working for me, you’ve yet to do anything spicy.”

“I-I was in college—” I stammer.

“I remember. You were so proud to get your Master’s at twenty-three, and I admit, it’s quite notable, but not spicy.”

“And then I—”

“Threw yourself into that women’s volunteer group.”

My mouth forms a perfect circle, shocked he would use my good deeds as a weapon against me. Finally, I return with, “I read to at-risk children three days a week during the winter months when they can’t go outside for recess.”

“Which is great if you’re in the market for a CPA with a dad-bod.”

I pivot on my heels, returning to my desk to make sure nothing else has popped up, and to wait out the five more minutes I’m obligated to remain in office.

“Look, Nadine. I’m not saying you’re undesirable, quite the opposite, actually. I’m just saying, you’re going to attract a certain type. Maybe it’s best you lean into it.”

My eyes cast Maxwell a scathing gaze, letting him know he’s crossed the line. But when has Max ever cared about lines? It’s part of his charm and what draws people to him. He’s a line crosser, and he’ll do it while looking you dead in the eye and cocking a grin.

Fuck his expectations of me.

I grab my purse, get up from my chair, and begin walking towards the door. As I approach Max, I stop mere inches from him, lean my body against his, and whisper, “Oh, I’ll be leaning in tonight.”

He scoffs, and I give him a wink before sauntering to the elevator a whole three minutes early.

I’ll show him how exciting I can be.

?

Maxwell

Watching Nadine Winters leave a whole three minutes early nearly has me in stitches, but I contain myself as not to further humiliate the poor girl.

If anyone is a stickler for the rules, it’s Nadine, and I know for a fact her bold and brazen move to leave ahead of her scheduled time is going to start her slow descent into madness, and come Monday, she’ll be in the office two hours early with a box of gourmet pastries.