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I glanced toward the dancers, the DJ, the refreshment table, and the mess of spilled wine that had dripped onto the floor. Sure enough, Pris was being marched to the exit, accompanied by two men in dark suits. My heart stuttered at the sheer power Hawk had. Don’t mess with the boss, I guess.
“What about the ball?” I asked, clutching the soiled handkerchief in my hand.
“You’re the only one I want to be with right now. What do you say?”
Oh, boy.
The air between us thinned. Chills cascaded down my arms with the slightest brushstrokes, and I was completely captured by the intensity in his eyes. He was serious about this—as he’d been with so many other things.
I knew full well where he kept his clothes:
In his office.
On the top floor.
In what was essentially a bedroom.
Temptation tingled in every single one of my pores. I shouldn’t agree. I should thank him for the offer, bid him goodnight, and go home to where my own clothes awaited.
But possibility capered through, pricking me like an appendage that had fallen asleep and was receiving blood flow once more.
Why not?
I didn’t want to go home. I refused toreturn to the ballroom. And after my conversations with Stina and Pris, I was certainly not going to Stina’s littlejobtonight.
“All right, then,” I said. “But I draw the line at boxer shorts.”
Hawk laughed and took my hand. Together, we walked to the elevator where he pushed the button. It opened instantly, and I stepped in the rig with him for the second time.
Pris had it all wrong. She had no say over my life—and if she thought a little bit of spilled wine was going to end my date with Hawk, she was horribly mistaken.
In fact, I wondered if she knew she’d just made things that much more interesting between us.
TWENTY-THREE
ella
I knewHawk’s office well. Probably better than he did.
I knew how difficult it was to vacuum around the ferns near his window. I knew the placement of every photo, award, and knickknack on his shelves.
And yes, I knew exactly where he kept the clothes he was about to offer me.
“You know, I clean your office sometimes,” I said as he flicked on a few of the switches by the door.
Light illuminated the covered windows, the desk in the room’s center, the gathering of black armless chairs in another section. One switch triggered the festive lights on his Christmas tree in the corner.
“I wondered about that.”
He closed the door behind us. I knew it locked automatically, and for some reason, that made my heart flutter.
Maybe it was because we were well andtruly alone.
“Then you know about my space here.” He gestured to the door beside his bathroom.
“Yep. I actually love this little room you have here.”
“Oh, yeah?”
