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“Yes, will do today,” she says completely unconvincingly.
“Great. Have a good day, darling.” I give a pet name a try.
“Mmmm.”
“No?”
“It’s good, just feels like more of an in-the-moment pet name, not an everyday one.”
“How about sweetheart?”
“Generic but still a good one. When you think of me, what name comes to mind?”
Without a second thought, I answer, “Temptress.” And before she can tease me or ask me to elaborate, I head out of the kitchen.
“Good morning, Florence.” I nod toward my assistant, while my thoughts are consumed by Stella. What is she doing? Showering? Doing her makeup?
“Good morning, Mr. Knight. I have your messages along with…”
I’m nodding back to Florence, but I’m too lost in my daydream to even comprehend what she’s saying. I like imagining Stella in my home, in my space.
“Sounds good.” I nod one more time and then close the door behind me so she can’t follow me inside my office. She’s a terrific assistant, best one I’ve ever had, but my God, does that woman love to talk. I’ve met her husband half a dozen times over the years and I’m fairly confident I’ve never heard him say a word.
I sink down in my office chair, an almost hangover-like heaviness to my head. I rub my temples, closing my eyes for a brief second before Florence is reminding me about my meeting in ten minutes.
Is she slipping on her panties? Running her hands through her silky hair?
I grit my teeth, my fingers curling against my palm to keep myself from doing what I so desperately need—release. I know she could see it in my eyes last night when I reminded her about the rules between us. It wasn’t a reminder for her; it was for me.
“Sir, I’ve shown your first meeting to the executive conference room.” Florence’s voice over the intercom in my office startles me.
“I’ll be there shortly,” I reply back to her. “Also, please call the personal shopping department at Neiman Marcus and set up an appointment today at three p.m.”
“For yourself, sir?”
“No, name will be under Stella Porter. Have the associate pull evening gowns for her.”
“Anything else, sir?”
“Tell her to keep the selections conservative.” As if that will somehow keep a leash on my thoughts tomorrow night when she’s in my arms at this event.
The deep breaths and inner monologue about how this is all a really fucking stupid idea and it’s not too late to back out are doing little to keep my thoughts in line as I make my way to my first meeting.
After lunch, I finally get some release—my three o’clock meeting pulling my focus back where it should be.
“Mr. Knight, we are willing to negotiate any of our terms if it means working with Knight Enterprises.”
I stare at the already extremely agreeable terms in front of me, reaching beneath the table to dismiss my phone that’s vibrating in my pocket. I read through them another time, my phone vibrating in my pocket again. This time I pull it out, looking at the screen to see Stella’s name. It stops ringing. I have two missed calls from her, a voicemail, and seconds later, a text.
Stella: Call me ASAP! Emergency!
My stomach plummets and I stand up suddenly. “Excuse me, my apologies.” The room goes silent as I walk out. I hit the dial button and hold my breath as I wait for her to answer.
“Hey.” Her tone is hushed and my stomach drops. I immediately imagine her in a dangerous situation. “We have a serious situation here.”
“What is it? Are you okay?” I keep my voice calm, not wanting to panic her any further.
“I’m sorry if Mrs. Hoskins is a friend of yours, but the dresses she chose are all terrible.” I let out a sigh of relief which is quickly replaced with annoyance. “Hello? Atlas?”
