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I shift in my chair to adjust myself.
“Beckett, if this is a bad time, perhaps we should reconvene later?” Rupert’s eyes bounce from mine to the two women standing outside the conference room.
“It won’t be necessary—”
Arianne turns around.
My gaze lands on her feet.
Dammit.
I’m not sure how to describe what she’s wearing other than a cross between a pair of smoking hot black booties that hit her just above the ankle and open-toe high heels.
In other words, her shoe selection is sexy as all fuck.
Her toenails painted in hot pink only ratchet the hotness level.
My eyes glide up her black pencil skirt.
My cock approves.
As I continue my inspection my gaze lands on her black t-shirt.
I read the slogan printed across her chest.
Well, well, well.
Someone is sending me a not-so-subtle message.
Yesterday’s outfit was outrageously feminine.
Today’s is laced with effrontery.
Yesterday, she disobeyed me.
Today, she’s provoking me.
Let the games begin!
I bring my attention back to Rupert. “On second thought, what I was going to tackle next can wait.”
“Not a problem,” he says.
“You know, you should get started with the weekend. You’re a hard worker. You deserve it,” I tell him.
“It’s not even lunchtime yet,” he says.
I look at my watch.
He’s right.
“It’s Friday,” I say. “Have an extended weekend on me. Enjoy your time with your new wife.”
“I’m not married. You must be thinking of Hubert.”
Arianne—and not fucking—has me so discombobulated I can’t even keep facts straight about my employees. Of course he’s not married. I know that. Hubert Ferguson tied the knot not long ago.
“In that case, take advantage of the extended long weekend to find a partner.”
