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“No. You can go home, Donna.”
“Okay. Bye, y’all.”
I turn toward her and smile before coming to face the man whose eyes haven’t left me since I entered the room.
“Sit down.”
I forego the urge to tell him I’d rather stay standing and instead sit in a leather armchair opposite him.
He expels a long, slow breath, his chest undulating as the air leaves him.
He doesn’t speak for a moment, eyeing me with such focus that if I wasn’t annoyed by him, I’d frankly find it intimidating.
As it is, I muster my best glare up from somewhere deep inside.
“How was your day?” he finally asks.
Um…
Restrictive, tedious and mundane… apart from the moments I got to be with your moody self which felt like someone had fed a lit firecracker down my esophagus.
“It was fine,” I reply breezily just to annoy him.
“Apart from being asked to make drinks for my clients.”
My body steams in annoyance. “For your information, it wasn’t the request itself, it was thewayyou asked it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” I shrug. “Just kind of… annoyingly dominant.”
“Hmm.” His eyes narrow, causing my lips to part, a habit I need to get out of around this man. “I’d have thought you’d have liked that.”
Holy shit.
My heartbeat rages through my neck at his insinuation. And it’s true… I do like that. Or at least, I used to.
After my dating experiences this year, I’m fairly sure I’ve lost my sub kink, one I used to enjoy.
His eyes slide to the monitor on his desk and back to me.
“I got your email.”
“Oh, good,” I reply. “I hope it clears things up.”
He shakes his head slowly, that thundercloud of a voice of his clapping through my body. “I’ll decide when they’re cleared up.”
He finally tugs his gaze away from me long enough to begin to read and oh my God, having your own brazen words read back to you is a new exercise in mortification.
“Dear Greyson.”
He pauses to look at me.
“Is there a reason I need a chaperone? Are you afraid I’m a foreign agent sent in to steal classified information? Because I can assure you that espionage is not on my list of skills.”
His mercurial gaze settles on my face, which I’m fairly sure is beginning to flush pink. Again.
“We’ll deal with the chaperone part in a minute,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “So… espionage isn’t on your list of skills. I’d like to know what is.”
