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As promised, when I woke up and made it to the office in the wee hours of the morning, a good forty-five minutes before anyone else might even consider showing up, I had an email from Audrey waiting for me with an attached file. My brows crinkled when I noticed it was a word doc instead of a spreadsheet, but beggars can't be choosers.
I had a pile of more pressing work to dig into, but I also had appointments today and I really couldn't afford more mix-ups. Maybe Nyla had been right and I'd taken on more than I could actually chew, but it was too late to take it back now. Trading any of them off to different Daddies was out of the question, barring an actual tragedy or emergency. Doing so would practically go against the Daddy handbook.
So hopefully the data Audrey had compiled would actually help.
Grabbing a stack of the notecards I always used to prep for court, and my favorite pen, I leaned my forearms on the desk and prepared to cram.
Ten minutes later, the only thing that was crammed was my pants, tented by the erection I'd gotten from reading what Audrey had sent over. It wasn't the data I'd been expecting. Instead, she had—surely by accident—sent over some sort of workplace erotica starring the two of us as the main characters. Even though the story ended right as things were just about to get good, my imagination was a heady thing. The story—what there was of it—had been simple but well- written, full of insights into Audrey's mind, and well, damn sexy. Also, wholly unprofessional. Now I had none of the information I needed for later and a raging hard-on.
And of course, I was no longer alone in the building. I heard the elevator ding as someone got off and groaned. At least my office door was closed.
It was far too early still for it to be Audrey, so hopefully whoever it was would leave me alone and go about their day. I might have to go stroke one off in the bathroom before my day started.
Staring at the document still open on the screen, I wished for the hundredth time that there was more to read.
A soft knock on his door startled me, and I swore loudly.
"Fuck! I mean, umm… yes? Come in." I really wasn't prepared for office small talk but letting whoever it was interrupt me at my desk was better than getting up and walking to the door myself and risk giving them a chance to observe my current state.
Audrey poked her head in and my throat went dry. She was dressed, as effortlessly sexy as always, in a tight black pencil skirt and a silky white blouse, open just enough to hint at what might be beneath.
Lust followed by righteous anger filled my chest. I opened my mouth to explain what had happened but the words wouldn't come out.
Instead what I said was, "Come in and close the door."
Her brows furrowed and she looked genuinely confused but she quickly obeyed.
"Good girl." I'd said it to her plenty; sometimes it just slipped out, but this was the first time I'd taken note of her reaction. She couldn't hide her smile though she did try. A flush rose up her chest to her cheeks, painting them a rosy pink. Then she giggled. "All I did was close the door."
"Indeed."
I couldn't get up and lean against my desk the way sexy hero Archer had, but I removed my jacket and began to roll up my sleeve, keeping my attention on her face the whole time.
I wouldn't have thought it possible but her cheeks got redder and I imagined turning a different part of her that shade of red.
I wanted to finish the scene in real life so that we would both know how it ended, but I could just picture the HR complaints piling up if I did so.
I cleared my throat, ready to tell her about the mistake she'd made and demand she fix it immediately.
"Audrey Lynn…" Instead her full name, the one she'd used in the book, came out. Who knew if it was real or not. And I knew I tipped my hand.
Her mouth dropped into a startled gape. "Did I do something wrong?"
Either she was a talented actress or it was indeed her name.
And here it was: the moment of truth. The story had been written from her point of view but what I was experiencing now was what it would have been like if it had been written in mine.
Be professional. Do the right thing. Ask her to resend the files, say nothing about the story and move on with your day.
I couldn't.
She licked her ruby-red lips and I felt my cock grow even harder. She had done this. It was her fault not mine. She'd been a bad girl writing porn stories about her boss.
And I was about to make the fantasies in her head come to life.
Shit.
"I didn't get the data I asked you for," I said, not bothering to explain what I had gotten instead.
