Page 79 of Boardroom Mask

“Tell him Jillian Pierce is here.”

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Pierce, but without a scheduled?—”

“Do I look like I care about a schedule right now? Do I lookscheduledto you?!”

Poor Madison. She has no idea what she’s dealing with. There are maybe four people on this planet who can bulldoze past my locked gate through sheer force of personality, and one of them is currently standing in my lobby with an illicit camera in her purse and murder in her eyes.

“Ma’am, if you could just?—”

“I’m not sitting down or coming back later, no! You can call security if you want, and I willhappilymake a scene in front of every single person on this floor. It’s your funeral.”

Grinning from ear to ear, I pull my phone from my pocket and open Slack.

Kir LazarevtoMadison Albright:Let her through.

Three dots appear. Then:

Madison Albright:Are you sure? She seems really upset.

Kir Lazarev:I’m sure. Send her back.

Madison Albright:Okay! Good luck!

I close the door and return to my desk. I sit down, unbutton my suit jacket, and cross one ankle over the opposite knee. Something about Jillian being here, in my domain, makes mefeel horny as fuck. She’s coming full of vigor and rage, and getting her even more worked up is going to be the absolute best part of my day.

The door swings open and Hurricane Jillian comes roaring in. Her hair is wild, half-pulled out of whatever she tied it back in this morning. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are locked on me with enough heat to melt the glass walls of this office. She’s wearing yesterday’s jeans and a wrinkled jacket and she looks like she hasn’t slept and she is the most beautiful thing I have ever fucking seen.

She doesn’t bother with hellos. Instead, she crosses the office toward where I’m seated, picks up my laptop with both hands, and hurls it off the desk. It sails past my left shoulder and crashes against the wall behind me with a very expensive-sounding crack. Then, in the space where my computer was a moment ago, she slams down the camera and battery back.

“How long?” she demands.

I look at the camera, then lazily drag my eyes up to her. “Hm?”

“Howlong, Kir? How long have you been spying on me?”

I wipe the grin off my face. It takes real effort, because everything about this moment is feeding something hungry and feral inside me. But it’ll be far more fun if this goes the way I have in mind.

I stand up as a subtle little reminder to Jillian that I am much, much taller than her. She thinks her fury will save her, but it’s just taking her out into deep waters where only I can swim. I button my jacket with one hand, smooth and unhurried, and strut around the desk.

She holds her ground for about three seconds. Then I take another step and she takes one back.

Another step.

Another retreat.

“Don’t,” she warns.

But I do. I keep walking and she keeps backing up. Her shoulder blades hit the wall next to the door she just came through.

I plant my right hand flat against the wall beside her head. Then my left, on the other side. She’s boxed in, bracketed by my arms, and I’m close enough to count every freckle on the bridge of her nose.

“My little fox,” I breathe against the shell of her ear, “do you not remember how we got here? I broke into your apartment and put you on your knees with a gun to your spine. I beat a man half to death because he smiled at you, and then I wrote you a love letter on your shower tiles in his blood.” My lips graze her earlobe and nip it lightly between my teeth. “I’ve had you on your kitchen floor, against your hallway wall, in a filthy alley with your face pressed into brick. I’ve had my hand around your throat while you came so hard you forgot your own name.” I feel her breathing shorten and quicken. “I’ve told you, to your face, that I was sent to kill you. And you invited me back. Every single night.”

I pull back just far enough to look at her. Her pupils are blown wide, her chest rising and falling fast.

“So forgive me, little fox, if I’m struggling to understand why a tiny little camera is the thing that finally made you lose your shit.” I tilt my head to regard her coolly. “Considering everythingelse you’ve let me do to you, it seems a little inconsistent, doesn’t it?”

Her jaw works, but no sound emerges.