Hung: A Badboy Romance by Carolyn Cruise

fact that every damn nerve in my body feels like it’s sizzling with anticipation, before all of a sudden the door swings open and there he is; blue eyes blazing as his face breaks into a welcoming smile.
    “Stacey! So glad you’re here! And I do appreciate how punctual you are, for once ...” he says with a wink. Then there’s a pause, as he obviously looks me up and down, before adding, “You look really great, too.”
    “Why thank you,” I say, feeling myself blush just a little.
    Of course, Colt looks great too – just as hot as ever, dressed tonight in a casual pale blue shirt and navy blue chinos, his thick hair swept back in a glossy swoop, his tanned jaw flecked with just the sexiest hint of stubble.
    But then something seems to change in his features – a flicker of that cruel coldness that can rise up at any time in him.
    “Now, Casey is going to be here any minute,” he says, looking at his Rolex, “so if you trot along through to the kitchen, Alfonse is the chef you’ll be working with tonight. He’ll have an apron for you, and let you know what you have to do.”
    Wait just one god-damn second ...
    The WTF look on my face must communicate my total and utter confusion, because a moment later he adds, “Your last job was waitressing, wasn’t it?”
    I’m shocked. Like totally struck dumb. And maybe that’s the reason I don’t just slap him in the face or get the hell out of his house, right there and then.
    Nope, instead, for some unknown reason, I actually find myself following him through to the kitchen, which is full of the delicious aromas of bubbling sauces and sizzling meats. Sure enough, I see that a real professional chef is cooking away in the far corner of the large room.
    “Stacey, this is Alfonse,” Colt says, indicating the chef. “You’ll be under his instructions tonight.”
    Is this really happening? Or is this just some crazy bad dream that I’m about to wake up from, any second?
    “Here, put this on,” Colt says, thrusting a neatly folded white apron into my hands.
    I start to shake my head.
    “Just wait one minute,” I start, about to give him a piece of my mind.
    But before I can, he’s held up his hand to silence me.
    “You’re my fucking PA, Stacey,” he growls beneath his breath. “You know what those letters stand for , right?”
    I don’t say a word, just nod.
    “Well, in that case get to work ,” he snarls. “Your job is to make sure this meal goes without a hitch. You know that a good reference from me is your ticket out of the life of dead end jobs you’re facing right now. And if you don’t do as you’re told, that reference is not gonna be yours, and you’re gonna be back waiting tables full time. Understand?”
    Once again, I’m too shocked to speak. And this time, all I can do is nod, as I watch him turn and stride out of the kitchen, leaving me there, totally confused, my head spinning, hot tears brimming in the corners of my eyes. Still on autopilot, I slip the apron over my head and head meekly over to Alfonse in the far corner.
    He’s got me.
    The only good thing that can come out of this whole dreadful experience with Colt is my CV. And that’s what I need to focus on right now.
    “Alfonse, I’m Stacey and I’m ready to work,” I say.
    “Just in time, those two are ready to go out,” he replies me in a European accent, nodding down at two dishes, each containing a beautifully delicate-looking seafood starter, plated with all the elegance and sophistication of a Michelin-starred restaurant. Wordlessly, I pick them up and carry them towards where I’m guessing is the dining room.
    As I approach it, I can hear music. Soft, sexy music. In fact, exactly the kind of music you might play on a date .
    Oh, this is just too fucking much ...
    I turn the corner and step into the dining room, and sure enough, sitting there at the dining table are Colt and some beautiful girl, tall and elegant as a model, her blonde hair shining, her