One one thousand, two one thousand. Grab the towel, Theo. Wrap it around your hips for fuck’s sake.

One perk of not working for him anymore would be getting the blood flow in my body back to normal. Each morning I had to witness this man get out of that fucking pool, every ounce of liquid in my body rushed to parts of my anatomy that had no business being activated in a professional setting.

“Good morning.” I stepped to the side as his wet feet slapped on the concrete and handed him his robe, which he took with a grunt. He gave my outfit a cursory look, his eyes stalling for a fraction of a second somewhere between my shoulders and my face. Nothing that could be considered lascivious or inappropriate. Theo Ganas was much too controlled to ever display any sort of interest in his lowly assistant. He would never compliment my outfit either. That would require words, and he was very economical with those. I kept my sight on the far wall, avoiding the rippling muscles just inches from my face at all costs.

Not that I actually wanted him.

Great body, face, eyes, mouth, hair, voice, hands and feet aside, he wasn’t my type. I preferred people who were more adventurous, more spontaneous, who weren’t afraid of showing a little—or any—emotion. I stared because it was impossible not to. It was like stumbling upon one of those massive flowers that only blooms once every hundred years—it was impossible to look away.

I mean, sure, someone who was attracted to him would definitely think that his pecs looked good enough to lick and that the dick print in his wet swim trunks was thick enough to be launched like a motherfucking war missile. Someone who liked that sort of thing might feel her vagina clench at the sight of those massive thighs. Not me though. Because that would be highly unprofessional.

“You’re late,” my boss said in that apathetic tone of his. I breathed through the annoyed comment itching to come out of my mouth and reminded myself I was about to ruin his day, which did bolster my spirits.

“Actually, I was thirty seconds early, Mr. Ganas.”

He responded with an irritated sound. Theo absolutely hated to be called Mr. Ganas.

“Theo,” he ground out, and I bit back a grin.

I loved fucking with him. It was the only thing that got me on that elevator some days.

“I have your messages,” I said as he took his first sip of coffee. I held my breath as he did, remembering those early months after I started when he’d hand me back the cup, lips pursed, and order that I make it again. That hadn’t happened in years and this morning he only groaned happily as he drank.