Olivia cleared her throat. “We sold the puppy.”
Max did a double take. “Into slavery?”
“No! What?” She shared a panicked expression with me then beamed at Max. “He was having a hard time adjusting to the cat, so my parents sold him, and I’m still living at home, so—”
Max held up one hand then pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. “You sold him to a puppy factory?”
“NO!” she nearly shouted. “My cousin—who’s a vet, by the way—bought him from my parents because she loves puppies. I’m a puppy advocate. You won’t find anyone who loves animals more!”
“Oh.” Max straightened up. “That’s a relief.”
“Isn’t it though?” She smiled brightly.
“The rest of you…” Max motioned to the room. “You can go home. You’ll be compensated for your time. Thank you for applying.” Everyone shuffled out as he turned to us. “Now that we’re done with the official announcement…” He rubbed his hands together. “Welcome, to Emory Enterprises. Furthermore—” His blue eyes gleamed. “—welcome to the Emory Games.”
My stomach flipped then fell off a cliff. “What?”
“The Emory Games.” He spread his arms wide and then snapped his fingers. “Dustin, don’t make me snap again!”
“Sir—” A guy in his early twenties wearing a shirt that said Max’s bitch came running with two manila envelopes in hand. “The printer’s on the fritz again.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “You annoy me.”
“I know, sir.”
“Do your hair differently tomorrow.” Max flipped his wrist at poor Dustin. “And try not to cower when you get yelled at. It’s disappointing.”
“Right away, sir!” This Dustin guy saluted him and then did this weird mix of a march slash walk out of the room, head held high.
“I love my cousin. I love my cousin.” Max repeated under his breath. “Now, please read everything in the envelopes and report to work tonight.”
“Tonight?” we said in unison.
Max shrugged. “It was in the application. Must be able to work odd hours.”
Odd hours meaning late hours or early ones, right? Not midnight.
“Is this the start of our workday, then?” Olivia asked.
“Read, Olivia. Read.” He winked, and then he was off, but weirdly enough, the guy with the camera stayed.
I tried to ignore him as I shakily pulled out the first sheet of paper and then nearly passed out when I started to read.
Olivia and I weren’t just working together.
No, Max wanted us accessible.
As of one minute ago, and as an intern, I was now moving into Emory Towers. And my new roommate?
Olivia.
Fuck.
Chapter Six
Olivia
I was going to live with him?
With. HIM?
I tried not to stare too hard at his golden biceps as he rolled his suitcase into the suite and looked around.
I had a sudden vision of me spread across him, his mouth between my legs, my breath coming in short pants.
Damn it!
I was not supposed to be imagining anything about Mark!
And yet, there he was looking sexy as hell in his tight black T-shirt and ripped jeans; I mean, whyyyyyyyyyy? We were interns, not joining a rockband!
I snorted and then looked around with a frown as Dustin came stomping in like he was about to announce the queen.
Did the man know how to walk quietly?
He’d changed his clothes from earlier and was now wearing head-to-toe black, including a black belt. His black eyeglasses had no actual glass, and I was busy trying to find out why, just why, when he cleared his throat and folded his hands behind his back. “Mr. Emory has left a list of your duties for the evening once you’ve gotten settled in.”
Mark shoved his rolling suitcase down the hall and scowled. “Almost settled; which room’s mine?”
Dustin’s grin had me narrowing my eyes as Mark slowly started trying each of the doors down the hall, frowning as none of them opened.
“You’ll be sharing the bathroom at the end of the hall, and for now, you’ll share the living room.”
I gaped.
Two large white leather couches sat in a gorgeous living room with wood paneling and twenty-foot ceilings. A flat-screen TV hung against the stark wall, and a long narrow fireplace occupied the space directly below it.
The apartment was basically cold and empty, beautiful but weirdly nothing I would ever pick out for myself. Maybe it was because there weren’t many decorations, and things just appeared too clean.
“Both of us?” Mark asked in a choked voice. “Are in the living room? Why don’t we get bedrooms?”
“You will.” Dustin grinned. “Eventually. Mr. Emory is…careful in how he approaches training his interns. If you’ll just read the welcome packets I’ve left on the kitchen bar, please. And if you have no other needs, then I’ll be going.”
He stomped out of the room, clicking the door shut behind him.
I was almost afraid to go over to the counter, but after seeing Mark’s horrified face, I decided that I needed to appear calm and in control, not freaking the hell out that I was going to be sleeping next to him every night and working with him every day.
I had self-control.
Hah, my body has probably already forgotten what he tastes like.
I gulped.
My brain did a little chant, oh, I know, I know! As if it was raising its hand then shouting out for my hormones to hear, Hot whiskey and spice!
I made a face.
Mark backed up like I was seconds away from announcing that I would eat my own young, hands up in surrender.
Good, I was scaring the villain away.
I grabbed the key on top of one of the packets and shoved it into my Michael Kors purse that I still had draped across my body. Then I reached for the packet.
It was pretty heavy.
Huh.
“What’s it say?” Mark asked.
“You can read,” I mumbled, then looked up. “Or can’t you?”
He gave me the finger then grabbed the other packet.
It didn’t seem that terrifying, just a welcoming note from Max himself, a thank you for being part of the company.
And then I turned the page.
Mark’s curse matched my gasp as we both stared at page two.
“No. Way.” I hissed. “We have to test each apartment and room
