Read Restraining the Receptionist: ... the Receptionist, Book 2 for Free Online Page A

chair.
    “She’s fine,” I said jealously.
    “She’s a good girl, aren’t you, my pet?”
    Chantalette smiled up at him like a puppy dog wagging her tail.
    I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t you just give her a doggy treat and call it a day?”
    “Now, now. None of that. You can get back out front now, Dana. I think we’re done here.”
    Dismissed. Like a cleaning lady who’s finished the toilets. I turned with a toss of my head and a mental “talk to the hand” to them both. At my desk, I checked my Mickey Mouse watch. Only eleven in the morning. This was going to be a long day. I muttered to myself as I turned on my computer and set up my headset.
    Chantalette was going to get an earful from me. How dare she waltz in on my territory and try to take my place? How dare Ethan think for one second that she could replace me? What would Simon say about all this?
    That was the first time I’d thought about Simon all morning. I’d been too caught up in the drama of Ethan and Chantalette. I didn’t even want to think about what that meant. And I didn’t have a chance, because Chantalette came strolling into the reception area. She wore skin-tight jeans and a faded pink T-shirt with a sparkly princess on it. I looked at her with utter loathing. She had no business horning in on my job. The best parts of my job, anyway.
    “Any calls for me?” she asked with an airy wave of her hand, her nose in the air.
    “Yes, as a matter of fact. Your real name called and wants to know who came up with something as lame as Chantalette.”
    “Ha ha. Jealous much?”
    Her smirk made me want to smack her. “Jealous of what? Ethan’s just using you to irritate me. He’s brilliant, that fucker.”
    Chantalette shrugged one casual shoulder. “Whatever. Works for me. And if he was just using me, why would he tell me to stop by whenever I’m in the neighborhood?”
    “The neighborhood of what? Horny and Skank?”
    Chantalette sneered. “You know, I don’t think you treat Ethan right.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “You’re always popping off to him. A man like that oughta get some respect.” A reverent tone entered her voice. “Not a lot of men can fuck like that.”
    “I know that.”
    “You barely mentioned Ethan that morning. All you talked about was Simon. I figured…well, I figured you didn’t even want Ethan. You don’t care about him.”
    “I care. He’s Simon’s mentor, of course I care.”
    She shook her head. “If you don’t want him, let me at him. Simon’s hot and all, but Ethan…he’s special. And he needs someone. If not you, I’ll step up.”
    I wanted to tell her to take herself back to the nail salon, but she’d piqued my curiosity. “What makes you think he needs someone?”
    “I’m very intuitive. I might even be psychic.”
    I snorted. But Chantalette just gave a lazy, satisfied stretch and strolled to the door. “ Ciao , girl. It’s been real.”
    I kept thinking about what she’d said. I’d always thought of Ethan as a kind of big dark shadow looming over the office. Or a dog that bites, the one you’re always watching with one eye. I hadn’t thought of him as someone who needed anything, except a kick in the pants.
    When he came out at lunchtime, I looked at him with new eyes. He had an aura of power around him that made it hard to look at him directly. Fit and compact, he had the body of an athlete, which is why I’d always seen him as invulnerable. But now, looking more closely, I thought about what athletes really do. They aren’t born knowing how to win races. They put themselves through training and hardship.
    Ethan had the air of someone who demanded the most of himself and who was willing to pay the price. I knew one of his knees ached sometimes. He had a long, raised welt, like a brand, on his back. Half of the fingernail on his thumb was missing. I had no idea what had caused these things.
    “What happened to your thumb?” I asked as he sorted through Simon’s mail. I’d been