I turn — and there he is.
Henry Chase, in dark grey suit trousers and a crisp white shirt, his jacket slung casually over one arm. And just when I think my pulse can’t climb any higher — black suspenders.
Fucking suspenders.
The air leaves my lungs in one humiliating rush. My face probably matches my dress. My body, entirely betraying me, floods with heat that pools low and steady in my stomach.
“Morning,” I croak, though it comes out more breathy than I’d like.
His gaze catches mine — dark, sharp, unreadable. His jaw is tight. Is he… angry?
“Well, what time do you call this?” a female voice cuts in smoothly from behind me.
Henry’s attention shifts, his features softening instantly.
“Jas?”
Jas.
The name rolls off his tongue like it belongs there. He told me about his friend Jas, but is she just a friend?
He moves past me — just like that — and the loss of his attention feels stupidly physical. I stand rooted to the spot, trying to look busy, pretending not to care as he wraps his arms around her in a deep, familiar hug.
I can hear the laughter in his voice when he speaks to her.
The kind of laughter I’ve never heard directed at me.
And suddenly, every bit of warmth from this morning drains right out of me.
He told me last night that he didn’t have a girlfriend. Maybe that was true. But I’d be naïve — an idiot, really — to think a man like Henry Chase didn’t havesomeone.
And as I watch them disappear into his office, the sound of their low conversation bleeding through the glass, my heart twists itself into something small and stupid.
Because whoever she is — friend, ex, or something else entirely — she’s clearly more than a client.
And I, apparently, am still the assistant.
Nineteen
Henry
“What the hell are you doing here?”
I stare at Jas, dropping my jacket over my desk. In nearly twenty-five years of friendship, I can count on one hand the number of times she’s shown up at my office unannounced.
“I wanted to see the infamous Matilda who’s apparently rattled your cage.” She grins, devilish as ever.
“Jesus Christ.” I glance toward the glass wall to make sure Matilda can’t hear us.
That red dress and those heels nearly killed me when I walked in this morning. I should probably thank Jas, really — her sudden appearance might’ve been the only thing that stopped me from pushing Matilda up against her desk and showing her exactly how much I liked that dress on her. It’s… concerning, the effect this woman has on me.
I swear she even bit her bottom lip when she saw me — and that alone sent blood straight to my dick.
“I can’t fault your taste,” Jas says, lowering her voice. “She’s beautiful.”
“Have you really come all this way just to compliment my assistant?”
“It’s not that far,” she retorts, jabbing me in the arm before taking the chair opposite my desk.
