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A petite woman with a dark brown bob and black-framed glasses looks up from one of the desks.
“Hayley, this is Dusty Rose, our newest employee.”
“Hi, Dusty. Mr. Maddox is expecting you.” Hayley presses an intercom and says, “Dusty Rose is here to see you.” She’s no-nonsense and seems like the perfect gatekeeper a CEO needs in charge of his door and his diary. One of the doors makes the clicking sound of a lock unlocking. “Penelope, Noah wanted you to look through this list with me before lunch. Do you mind?”
“Not at all, I’ll do it now,” Penelope says. “Dusty, go on through. It’s the door on the left. I’ll be right with you.”
I’m not sure why my heart is beating fast. Some sixth sense feels like it’s tuning in to a cosmic wavelength. I have no idea what that means, except that I’m an intuitive person and my intuition is currently being slow-zapped by a high-wattage electric current.
As I open the door and cross the threshold into Cash Maddox’s office, my eyes are immediately drawn to the view through the floor-to-ceiling walls of windows. You can see the entire city from here. And on such a bright day, the office is flooded with light, casting the man sitting at the desk into relative shadow. I can’t make out his face at first, but there’s something very familiar about his outline, his frame and the way his suit clings to his muscles.
It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness, but when they do, my heart leaps into my throat.
It can’t be.
But it is.
Holy shit. You’ve got to be kidding me.
He’s the fucking CEO?
Cash Maddox, my new boss…is Ace.
16
In a moment of sheer disbelief, I find myself face to face with Cash Maddox.
The CEO of Invested Enterprises.
Multibillionaire and investment guru.
Fiercely private third son of Benjamin Maddox, one of those old school New York moguls whose family gets mentioned in the same sentences as the Rockefellers or the Vanderbilts.
A beast in bed.
One of the most “eligible bachelors” in Manhattan, along with his brothers, according to Emma.
Ace.
As he stands from his chair, he looks just as devastatingly handsome as he did that night in Hawaii—no, scratch that. He looks better. He looks dark and powerful and freaking dazzling in his suit, with the city view as his backdrop. He radiates alpha male power and unimaginable success.
I’ve manifested a lot of shit lately, but there is no way on the planet this can actually be happening. My brain is short-circuiting.
But then it slowly revs up again. And it occurs to me that, if I do want to keep this job—which I desperately do because it’s not only my dream but also my life raft at this point—then I absolutely cannot do…what I want to do.
Which is to walk over to where Ace is sitting and climb onto his lap.
And kiss him.
And unzip his pants.
And take that enormous, hot, thick manhood he’s packing in my hands, just like I did in Hawaii. Like I was ready to do in my dream before he disappeared.
God. He guided—no, forced but I was so willing—me into positions I’d never even heard of. His cock was so big and so deep as he growled dirty words.
“That’s it, Texas. Fucking ride me. Fuck yeah, baby girl. Look how damn gorgeous you are. Your pussy’s so wet and tight around my big cock. You feel so fucking good.”
But I don’t.
