The first time I met Noah Parker, he asked if I was an escort. Apparently when you’re a billionaire sports agent, finding strange half-naked women in your hotel room is…normal?
That didn’t stop me launching a stiletto at him.He’s fine—good reflexes. Still, he walked into my hotel room—claiming it’s his—and has no plans on leaving.Neither do I.
Which is how I end up sharing a bed with Mr. Jerk.Platonically…more or less. Nothing happened, I just might have had a few naughty thoughts and some very pleasant dreams.
He’s hot, all right? A hot jerk. Volcanic levels of hotness.But a jerk nonetheless.Like when he fires his assistant in front of me.And then asks me if I want the job.Only a 5-star, card-carrying, world-revolves-around-me, A—hole would be so brazen.
But he’s also paying me triple what my newspaper assistant job did. Giving me access to legit superstars.Starring in my dirtiest of fantasies. And that’s a problem.Because I can’t fall for my bosshole.They say he always gets what he wants. But he’s not getting me
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