Ryan
He’d been trying to work for hours, but it was proving very difficult. He felt compelled to look up at her far too many times, and when he did, she was either typing clumsily, or looking straight back up at him. This went on all afternoon until he heard a loud “ping” on his computer and looked down. It was well after five, and most of his staff had already gone home.
His email lit up and he opened it.
He looked over at her desk. She was rubbing her hands together as if they hurt. She made round circles with her wrists, as if she was stretching them. Her face was flushed a pink color, and she looked frazzled. He looked at the email and started reading it. The little note to everyone was way too cheerful and informal. He shook his head as he read it, and wondered what everyone was going to think about it.
Hi all,
Please find attached the minutes from the great meeting you all had yesterday. I thought it was very constructive, thank you for all taking time out of your very busy day to attend it. I hope you have a lovely evening. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to email, or call me.
Keep well.
Yours sincerely,
Doris Granger
Executive Administrative Assistant to the CEO Ryan Stark
He shook his head again. Anyone who hadanycorporate experience whatsoever would never have written an email with such a casual, chatty tone. He looked up; she was massaging her fingers one by one now. Obviously, she hadn’t typed this much in her entire life. He opened the attachment, picked up his cup of now cold coffee and started reading it.
“What the fuck?!” he gasped and almost choked on his coffee. He looked up at her, and her head snapped up.
“Miss Granger . . . get in here, immediately!”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
Poppy
“SEX million rand!” He was fuming as he read it out to me. “You sent this email to my board and the shareholders.”
“Uh . . . um . . . I . . .” I felt my cheeks flush a bright red color and my stomach plummeted.
“Yes. Now would be an appropriate time to stutter.” He looked furious, or panicked, or terrified, or all of the above.
He continued to read my email. “The orgasming—I suppose you meant ‘organizing’—of the contract will be done through independently elected attorneys—” He looked up at me and I wanted to turn and run from the room.
“Let’s see what else we have here . . .” he continued, scanning the email.
My heart started beating double time. Fuck! I couldn’t believe I’d written that—well, actually I kind of could believe it, because most of my afternoon had been spent tryingnotto think of that moment under his desk. Trying not to play the moment out with a different ending, one where his handshadtouched me. Where his hands had slithered up my skirt and pulled my panties down. Where they had gripped my hips and brought me closer to him. Ripped my clothes off, pushed all the stationery off his desk and thrown me onto it. Yes, most of my afternoon had been spent tryingnotto imagine what kissing him would feel like. Oh God, I hoped I hadn’t made any more Freudian slips . . .
“Shit!’ he cursed loudly, and I guessed I had.
“What is this word?” He slowly turned the computer screen around, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Uh . . . breast.” I stumbled. This was bad. So, so bad.
“And what should it say?” He was glaring at me now.
“Uh . . . best.”
“Exactly.” He sat back in his chair and scowled at me.
I wriggled in my seat under his gaze. My skin felt like it was on fire, and my head itched like hell. I reached for it.
“And stop scratching your head, for God’s sake!” he snapped and then held his own head in his hands and shook it slowly.
