Insatiable Devon

Chapter 1

I trot through the wide corridors of the building after asking my way to the hostess, well prepared to join my post for the very first time. It's strange, but I'm nervous. Normally, that never happens to me. Maybe because I'm slightly dreading the official meeting with my boss ?
During our telephone conversation last week, I found him quite cold. He looked strict, but that didn't scare me for a second at the time. To tell the truth, I know that I have the shoulders strong enough to ensure such work, on the other hand... I did not think of fearing as much the first moments in his company. And upon reflection, my angst is surely related to the fact that I am about to work for one of the richest men in all of Manhattan. Yeah, in a way... it's pretty impressive. And he probably is just as much. But I need this job, so I will do everything in my power to do it properly. Everything, including the most boring chores ever.
- You are late.
This hoarse voice resounds like an echo in the big room when I make my appearance there. In front of me, the rather muscular back of a man in an indigo suit. My boss, I presume. He is leaning against one of the large glass windows giving a magnificent view of the whole city, but does not turn around for a single second to face me despite my entrance.
Mechanically, I raise my wrist in order to be able to read the time displayed on my watch, and find that it is totally wrong. 8:56 a.m. I'm four minutes early.
- Absolutely not, I replied then naturally.
What a bitch. The one I assume to be Mr. Anderson turns furiously following this answer given a little too frankly. He then gratifies me with a small squint, and it's at this precise moment that I realize : little a, he's horribly hot, and little b, I might have done better to close it.
- Here, he begins as he approaches, and just before placing a finger firmly against the wood of what I think is my desk. We only talk about punctuality if we arrive ten minutes early.
Despite me, a small gasp escapes me. Shit, why ? Maybe because he intimidates me a bit, and... maybe also because his vision of punctuality seems completely absurd to me.
- Do you enjoy it ? he asks me then, eyebrows arched.
- No, I disagreed instantly, and while regaining composure. I just thought that...
- Well, you thought wrong, he interrupts me dryly.
OK... Yeah, I think it's going to be folkloric.
But after all, and as of eighty percent of cases, men who are so handsome on the outside are in reality all rotten on the inside. And it was certainly not me who was going to fall on the remaining twenty percent. Oh no... impossible.
- Now get to work, he continues firmly. And if you have any request, do not count on me. Marta is here for that.
My boss quickly bypasses me in order to reach the door on my right, and it's only when he opens it that I see a large tempered glass desk. I imagine that it is his, this office. And I also imagine that this connecting door may be the main cause of my worries for the next few weeks. Next years...? Brrr. I get chills just thinking about it.
- Okay, I mumbled with a small grimace. But who is Marta, exactly...
Unfortunately, he doesn't let me finish this question, preferring to slam the door behind him, and leaving me there, alone in this huge room that was still unknown to me just a few minutes ago. Great. So that's what we call having a sense of hospitality !
And above all, that was only the beginning of my ordeal.

June 2022,
Of our time.

The door separating our two dens suddenly opens, leaving room for Mr. Anderson sexier than ever. His tie is almost entirely undone, the first button of his sky blue shirt is undone, and unlike usual, no suit jacket is present on his broad muscular shoulders. And again, I'm not talking about his chestnut mane completely tussled on top of his head. Damn, I don't think in three years with this company, I've never seen him in such a state of fatigue. It is also perhaps for this reason that I manage to find something attractive for him, for once. Anything. Yeah, I'm just - me too - very tired. After all... it's been almost two hours since nightfall now, and the extremely dim light from my little desk lamp must most likely be hallucinating me. It is even certain. This guy will never give me anything but disgust.
- In my office, my boss's naturally hoarse voice orders me sharply, but he doesn't move from the doorway.
Despite this request, I remain motionless, buttocks perfectly sealed to my chair. However, the desire to leave her itches me. It's very uncomfortable, unlike my boss's designer chair, which must allow his neck to stay in good shape all year round. I think I can never say enough about how much I hate this guy. Yes, but beyond that, what I hate even more is that he allows himself to speak to me in such an authoritarian way. This asshole constantly takes me for his maid, so I intend to be patient, and wait until he finally deigns to show even a tiny ounce of sympathy for me. Unfortunately, Anderson doesn't seem to get the point :
- I meant... he continues then arching an eyebrow furiously. Right away.
I hallucinate...
- No, I answer him coldly, and while putting my nose in my pile of papers.
The weary sigh escaping from between his lips following my challenge immediately makes me realize that he may not have enough energy to enter into a stupid squabble right now. Against all odds, he yields :
- Please, he sighs then, defeated.
I take my eyes off my paperwork so I can face him. I have, of course, there ?
Bluffed, I gratify him with a pleasantly surprised air, then cooperate without further delay. When I approach it quietly, a mocking grin does not fail to take place at the corner of my lips :
- It's much better that way, don't you think ? I teased him.
Arrogantly, I walk past him, deliberately swinging my long brown ponytail under his nose, and immediately notice that the usually woody smell of his perfume is entirely covered by that of freshly consumed whiskey. That too is quite surprising. Ordinarily, Mr. Anderson drinks only during business meetings in his office. He usually shares a glass or two of amber liquid before signing a contract, however... I've never caught him doing this alone before. It's... strange. Yes, because until now, I didn't think a man like him could afford this kind of thing. This kind of gap, more precisely. But now I finally discover a whole new facet, showing me that sometimes the great Devon can turn out to be someone completely normal. Someone who has worries, like everyone else.
- Why did you ask me to come here, anyway ? I asked then turned to him.
Blood rushes to my head instantly when I catch him ogling me, still leaning firmly against the door frame. Okay, it looks like it's unusual stuff night. Fortunately for my embarrassment, he quickly regains his composure by returning to his office at a run, as if nothing had happened. As if her hazelnut irises hadn't deliberately slid across the skin of my thighs seconds ago.
- My brother will arrive first thing tomorrow morning, he breathes, slumping nonchalantly in the back of his large armchair.
This is clearer to me. Indeed, I understand better why my relentless boss is in such a state of panic tonight. His twin brother. Caleb Anderson, or rather... the alpha male in all his glory. Without laughing , myself I could lose my means, with the agreement of this first name. Well... certainly not for the same reasons as my boss.
Beyond his undeniable charisma, Caleb became our best collaborator last year. Although they never really got along, this professional alliance did not bring the two brothers closer at all. Quite the contrary, I would say. In fact, I think they hate each other even more than before. But I imagine it's a risk worth taking, when it comes to allying yourself with your own brother.
During my very first meeting with Caleb, I was -as often- in the company of Mr. Anderson. It didn't take me more than a minute to realize how much they despised each other. In reality, Devon is the complete opposite of his brother. Mentally speaking, I mean. It goes without saying that they are, however, perfectly identical physically. Both beautiful as gods, it is undeniable. However, my dear boss is only a vulgar draft in my eyes. He's nothing short of detestable, while his brother is a true modern-day gentleman. I don't think I've ever seen so many qualities in a single person. He's handsome, smart, smiling, kind, funny, and charismatic... in short, this guy is the very definition of the word perfection. He's in the bottom 20 percent. Yeah, it does exist.
- I know what you're thinking, Eva.
The horribly hoarse tone my boss uses suddenly pulls me out of my little bubble of happiness. Flop ! It bursts like an ordinary balloon rubbing a little too closely against the sharp thorns of a magnificent red rose.
- Do not forget the last line of your contract, he adds then, jaws clenched.
- I do not forget, I agreed in a confident tone.
It is wrong. In truth... I had completely forgotten that my asshole boss had forced me to sign such a piece of rag :