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“Do you have a suggestion about improving the filing system?”
I didn’t think she’d have an answer. Or that she’d be so animated in sharing it that the sparkling crystals on her many necklaces would move with her body, catching and refracting little bursts of light. I was mesmerized by those shifting hues against the warmth of her skin.
Couldn’t help imagining wrapping her wrists in thin, fragile chains laced with those stones and pulling on them as I drove into her from behind.
“Are you staring at my tits?” she demanded, breaking the spell. “I’m not saying I mind, but if we’ve reached dessert, I’d appreciate more eye candy than your red tie.”
The cleared throat beside us was my warning someone had approached us—and not from the direction I’d anticipated. My father was staring at me with clear disapproval.
Me. As if I was out to lunch with my girlfriend while stepping out on my wife.
“Good afternoon. I didn’t expect to see you here, Preston.”
“I just bet,” I muttered.
My father extended a hand toward Ryan. “And you are?”
“Ryan Moon.” She didn’t hold out her hand, just glowered in his direction. “I know all about you.”
“Oh, is that so? I know about you too. You’re my son’s assistant.”
“Temporary,” we said in unison.
“Even so, lines exist for a reason.”
I couldn’t say I was struck speechless by his hypocrisy—okay, yes, I was struck speechless by his hypocrisy.
Ryan, however, had no such issue.
“Why, you pig. You’re cheating on your wife with your assistant, and you have the balls to accuse your son of impropriety?” She jerked to her feet and pulled out a large, gleaming hunk of rock that she held in front of her as if she was warding off evil spirits. “I’m getting out of here. This room is filled with bad energy.”
She dug into her purse and tossed a wad of bills on the table before doing exactly what she’d accused me of this morning.
She flounced.
Seven
I shouldered my door open, juggling two bottles of wine as I shoved in the case waiting on my doorstep with my foot. I’d forgotten about April’s promised wine delivery, but I didn’t think I’d have trouble finishing them all. Then I would attach myself to the nearest rehab clinic to recover from both the booze and my new boss.
My purse slid down my arm and thudded to the floor. I flung my emergency pair of ballet flats into my living room—my stupid heels had been beyond repair—then headed straight for the cabinet for my wine cup. Obviously, glasses were not a good idea today.
“Not even gonna feel guilty.” I grabbed some ice and it clunked against the thermal sides of my sparkly purple cup. I kicked the box of wine closer to my fridge before wrestling it open. I loaded two bottles to chill and cracked open the one I’d bought on my way home.
“I can’t believe him,” I muttered. It was a miracle I wasn’t shouting.
The day had been chaos from start to finish. Dust coated me from my braids to the tops of my feet, courtesy of the boxes of files I’d attacked post-lunch.
Screw his NDA. He hadn’t asked me to sign it yet, and I certainly hadn’t reminded him. He was lucky I hadn’t quit on the spot at the restaurant.
I’d stormed out of the restaurant on my wobbly heels, hopped an Uber back to the office, and proceeded to lock myself in the file room. Cataloging 1992 hadn’t exactly been in my packet—dude, seriously, a packet—of duties, but I’d needed something to take my mind off the shitshow that was lunch.
How was I supposed to look Isaac Shaw in the face after knowing he’d been literally cheating on his wife across from us?
With his assistant.
I’d doubted Preston could clench his ass any tighter, but he’d proved me wrong after discovering his father’s indiscretion. That was an extra slap with all the energy humming between us.
Ugh. Now we were an us. I didn’t want to be the united front with Preston against the senior Shaw, but PMS’s eyes had been so…
