Irresistible Bachelors: Books 1-5 by Landish, Lauren (classic literature books .TXT) 📗

this. Nobody is to be out of uniform when in a guest area,” Vandenburgh says through gritted teeth. “Your name tag is an important part of your uniform.”

Not as important as that uppity stick up your ass, I think angrily. I want so badly to tell him that he could go to hell with the high horse he rode in on, but I need this job.

When it’s clear he’s won, Vandenburgh turns with his nose raised high, and I follow him into his office. Inside, it’s antiseptically clean, his cherry wood desk so polished it practically gleams. “Mr. Vandenburgh, I understand that I lost my name tag, but please . . .” I close my mouth when I see him arch his eyebrows. Well screw him. I’m not going to beg. It’s actually what he wants to hear.

He pushes a sheet of paper across the table to me along with a pen. “If you’ll fill this one out, Miss Sayles, for your new name tag. It’ll be ready by your next shift, and you’ll, of course, be docked the ten dollars for the cost of the tag. After that, you can sign your write-up form.”

Anger burns my chest as I grip the pen and fill out the form. A write-up. For my name tag. How stupid.

It’s just his way of getting one step closer to firing me, I think angrily. He knows I already have one write-up, and now he only needs one more to get rid of me for good.

The hotel runs a three-strike system. If you get three write-ups within a rolling twelve-month period, you’re fired. It doesn’t matter what they’re for. This is my second strike, having been written up several months ago due to being late during a thunderstorm.

I finish the form, making sure my name is spelled correctly before I slide it over to Vandenburgh.

He smiles icily, taking the form, and I get up to leave, barely hiding the anger I feel.

“Oh, and Miss Sayles,” he says, causing me to pause in the doorway.

“Yes?” I say cautiously.

“The marble floors in the lobby have been looking quite dull lately. I believe they could use a good coat of polish.”

I almost lose my shit right then and there. Waxing floors? This has got to be a joke. Though I know it might cost me, I say through gritted teeth, “Mr. Vandenburgh, that’s a job for Maintenance. They use the big motorized buffer.”

“Yes, and the buffer is far too noisy and disruptive for me this time of day,” Vandenburgh counters, clearly enjoying the frustration I’m displaying. “You’ll need to do it by hand.”

This man has got to be out of his mind. Never mind, I know he’s out of his fucking mind. But as I look into his smiling face, I know he’s just waiting for me to unleash. He gets off on this shit.

I swear to God, as soon as I get home, I’m gonna look online for another job. I don’t have to put up with this.

I turn to leave again, but I’m stopped once more when Vandenburgh adds, “A hint, Miss Sayles. Go in small sections, or else you’ll leave streaks and have to do it all over again.” I swear he’s about to burst into gales of maniacal laughter.

I don’t know how I manage to leave his office without cussing him out to the moon and back, but I do it.

I even manage not to slam the door.Gavin

Beep. Beep. Beep.

I groan as I wake up, the sound of an annoying alarm going off in my ears. Grabbing my pillow, I place it around my ears to muffle the sound. But after several moments, I toss the pillow to the side and mutter in annoyance, “Shut the fuck up,” while grabbing my cell off the nightstand and silencing it.

I glance at the time. It’s early still, 8:45. Rehearsals are supposed to start at 10:00. But I hardly got any practice in last night, my mind filled with thoughts of Brianna. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get her out of my head and focus on my lines for more than a minute.

As if summoned by thinking Brianna’s name, my cock swells, straining against my boxers, stretching to its limits. Fuck.

Just another problem I have to deal with.

Groaning, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, my cock throbbing painfully, begging me to take care of it. I clench my jaw, trying to ignore the urge. I don’t need this shit right now. I’ve got to be able to perform today.

It should be easy. I’ve always been good under pressure. I’m used to being the best at what I do. But I feel off my game.

It pisses me off. I’ve always been about control, dominating situations and those around me. But Bunny is resisting my charm, taunting me with her sweet pouty lips. She can’t keep it up for long, though. She wants me. I can see it in her gorgeous eyes.

A soft groan escapes my lips as I slip my hand down my abs and under the elastic band of my boxers. With a surge of discipline, I stop myself before I grab my dick, and I scowl up at the ceiling.

Fuck that.

I’m not doing this. If anyone’s going to make me blow a load, it’s going to be her. She’s playing hard to get, but it’s only a matter of time. What’s that saying, good things come to those who wait? I can hold out a little while longer. I grit my teeth, ignoring another pulsing throb. Nope. My hand just won’t do.

I roll out of bed, ignoring the dull ache in my balls, and make my way to the shower stall inside the bathroom. I make sure the water is as cold as I can bear, shivering as the dual showerheads pound into my chest and water cascades down my washboard abs.

I stay in the cold stream until my erection finally subsides and then I jump out, quickly