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When I stepped in the mere second her deadbeat ex started being a dick to her, it showed me thatmy attraction to her crosses a line.
One I shouldn’t want to cross.
For the sake of the company.
For all my work in building a friendship and business partnership with Nash.
Even though sometimes watching her, the way she smiles and her body moves, makes me rock hard under my desk.
Goddammit! I can’t go there.
So as I ride the elevator to the offices, I straighten out my suit and try to pull my shit together.
Because Zoeywillbe at her desk.
She is always in before the rest of us, and I have to walk straight by her to get to my office. “Keep your shit together, Branson.”
The elevator dings, and I puff out my chest. Finally, the doors open, and I walk into the main building with a swagger in my step, ready to tackle another day.
Since starting here, I have adapted Nash’s motto as my own.
Launch.
Dominate.
Rule.
Destroy.
It’s the firm motto that we take into every day.
We want to be the best.
Fuck—wearethe best.
Since I came on board, we are now the highest-grossing merger and acquisitions company in not just New Orleans but all of Louisiana. We’ve grown that much in two years.
Needless to say, Harrington Business Partners, the firm Nash and I both originally came from, is floundering, and the person running it, Nash’s father, is not happy about us taking the crown from him.
But all’s fair in love and business.
Walking through, I head for my office, noticing Zoey is not at her workstation. My shoulders slump, and my brows furrow.
Where the hell is she?
She’s always here before me.
I glance around the office, trying to locate her, when the sound of Zoey’s heels click-clack from the kitchen area. Widening my eyes from the idea she might catch me loitering at her desk, I take off toward my office as she rounds the corner.
“Oh, it’s you. I mean, um… hi… oh, shit…” She stops and takes a deep breath. “Good morning, Mr. Branson.”
I have to admit, the way she always calls me ‘Mr. Branson’ does something to me. I find it so fucking sexy. Of course, she’s formal with everyone here, and I know she’s only doing it out of politeness, but fuck, those words do something to my kinky side.
What I wouldn’t give to have her in my office with her dress suit skirt around her waist as I bend her over my knee, spanking her ass as she calls me Mr. Branson repeatedly.
The image comes to mind, and my cock jerks in my slacks, aching and throbbing as she stares at me while raising a brow. “Mr. Branson?” she asks, breaking me from whatever the hell that was.
“Sorry, yes… good morning, Zoey. Weekend go okay?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
