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Doris slides a sheet of paper over the table, on top of her notepad as I frown.
Doris isn’t a texter.
I discreetly open the paper and read what she’s written.
Forgot to tell you. If Mr. Petrov yells, it isn’t directed at you, okay? He’s very stressed at the moment.
So I’ve heard. He wasn’t so stressed when we both fell asleep last night wrapped around one another, his dick still inside me.
I clear my throat. No need to think about that while I’m supposed to have a neutral face. It would be wrong to be beaming while people are potentially losing their livelihoods.
I glance up at her and she gives me a firm nod, telling me it’s going to be okay.
I smile back, tempted to give her a thumbs up.
The dull chatter abruptly stops when the door swings open and Hurricane Khristian appears.
I take in his appearance and try not to cream in my panties. Yes, I wore panties today.
The man has impeccable taste, I’ll give him that.
I’m wearing a peach-colored set by Fleur of England. Lingerie like that isn’t commonplace for a pauper like me. It’s luxury with bespoke embroidery and soft French silks and lace. Completely ridiculously priced, the tags had my eyes watering.
Today I paired the bra and panties with the matching garter belt and suspenders. I can honestly say I’ve never felt so sexy in my life.
I have to admit I am a little sore from last night. We had sex three times. Three glorious times. The man can’t keep his damn hands off me.
Screwing me in the foyer, while scattering the contents of the shelf unceremoniously on the floor, was so damn hot. I love it when Khristian loses control. Something he definitely didn’t bring into this meeting.
He’s wearing a dark, navy suit, crisp white shirt and a silver tie. A tie I helped him pick out this morning. I roll my lips at the thought of what he did to me with that tie before I left to do the walk of shame back to Ariana’s.
My friends have been blowing up my phone, and while I did text Ari to tell her I wasn’t going to be home, it only opened up a can of worms to where I was and what I was doing. I don’t want to lie to them, but I can’t tell her I’m screwing my boss; Lukas’ friend and associate. Maybe I should broach the subject with Charlize.
Khristian’s hair is slicked back off his face, and he’s freshly shaven.
My stomach does a little wobble when I remember him walking around this morning in the nude, drinking coffee in his bed while I watched him get dressed.
He acknowledges nobody, then takes a seat at the head of the table. He looks every bit the rich, playboy CEO, and my heart skips a beat thinking about being in his bed and what we did.
He can’t get enough of me, and I’m okay with that.
“Good morning, Mr. Petrov,” Doris says, bravely. “And good morning, everyone. I’ll be taking the meeting notes this morning…”
“That won’t be necessary, Doris,” Khristian says, waving a hand at her, his jaw tight.
His glare isn’t on her, thankfully. It’s on everyone else.
I thank the heavens that I’m not under his murderous stare.
He didn’t go into too much detail, but when we laid for a while he told me the company was losing a lot of money due to the delays, which was the reason he’d flown in Morgan and Johans. They’re here as damage control, amongst other things.
There’s a knock at the door and Carly from reception appears, looking like she wants to shrivel up into a hole, rather than deliver Khristian’s morning coffee.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she says in a squeaky voice. “Your coffee, sir. Double shot as requested.” She scurries across the room in six-inch heels, like one would model on the runway. I have to hand it to her, she doesn’t spill a drop.
Khristian doesn’t acknowledge her. She sets the mug down and runs away with her eyes cast downward. I can’t say I blame her. It’s chilly in here.
If I didn’t know Khristian, and hadn’t spent time with him in bed all of last night and this morning, I’d probably run, too.
