Page 33 of Violent Hearts

"I think you already know part of the answer to that," I say, casting her a meaningful look. "We're here."

I can tell she has more questions to ask, but this is neither the time nor the place to discuss these things.

"It won't take long," I promise her, and once we’ve exited the car, I lead her inside the high-rise office building.

"Is this yours?" she asks, hurrying to keep pace with my wide, deliberate steps.

"The building or the company? Yes to both."

"Oh, right," she says. "You founded it when you were still in college, right?"

"I see you did your research."

"Are you planning to sell once you're busy campaigning for Congress?" she probes as we approach the elevators. "Do you want to get out of this business?"

I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't return her attention. I don't like her questions. She will know a lot about me sooner or later, more than most people ever do, but she doesn't need to know everything, and especially not now. Not yet.

"That's none of your concern," I tell her once we're inside the elevator and the doors close. "You have other things to worry about right now."

She sighs, and I'm pretty sure she's rolling her eyes at me again, something that won't be forgotten by the time we get home later.

Silas is already waiting for us when the elevator doors part. He's his usual self, very controlled and styled to the nines, his hands folded in front of him before he opens his arms to welcome us. He has been working for me for several years, and of all the people who are closely engaged with me, he's the one who knows me the best. He's also the only one - as far as I know - who shares my particular interest in women. He understands, and he doesn't judge. Both these things make him the perfect assistant for me.

"Silas," I greet him with a hand shake, something we rarely do. "This is Button."

The look on her face is beyond anything I could have dreamed up. Her face is lined with outrage when she looks up at me, and her eyes are narrowed to slits.

"Ann!" she snaps. "My name is Ann."

"Not as long as you're with me, it isn't," I tell her. "Button, this is Silas, my personal assistant and closest associate."

She bites her lip and glares at me for one more second before turning to Silas and shaking his hand.

"It's nice to meet you," he says, a smile playing around the corner of his mouth. He's used to my antics with these girls. Of course, I'm not going to let anyone else call her by the name I chose for her, but she doesn't need to know that. However, she will have to get used to her new name.

"Nice to meet you, too," she replies through gritted teeth.

Silas is one of four people I need her to meet today. The other three are my attorney, my campaign manager, and my publicist - all of whom are in the know about the nature of my relationship with Button and her role in the upcoming campaign, if she is to stay. She's the third girl I have introduced to them, and while I know there was a high degree of reluctance and raised eyebrows with her predecessors, I notice that she doesn't leave a similar impression on my team as the others did. I have to admit, I'm surprised, too.

She's polite, friendly, and acts interested, answering questions directly and without blabbering, and barely poses any herself. I've never seen her behave this way around me. With me, she's always either suspicious and angry, or horny. It's as if the girl who's sitting next to me in the small conference room, politely chatting with my employees like it's second nature to her, is a completely different person than the one who either hisses or moans at me.

If this is all an act, she's even better than I could have hoped.

The only thing that keeps agitating me is the way she insists on being called by her name, Ann. I addressed her as Button every time I talked to or about her, and each and every single time she dared to correct me. Her defiance will get her in big trouble with me one day, that's for sure.

Otherwise, she did leave a favorable impression on everyone. Even Silas gives me an approving nod once we say our goodbyes.

But just as I’m about to praise her once we're alone in the elevator, she's back to the person I’m used to.

"I hope that pleased you," she says in a condescending tone. "I fucking hate small talk like that."

I want to grab her and spank that damn attitude out of her. I know it has to happen - and soon. But not here, not now.

"You did well," I say, my tone equally distant and annoyed as hers. "Except for one thing."

"What?"

"Don't undermine my authority in front of my employees," I say. "Your name is Button, and when I address you by that name, you're not to correct me. Especially when there are other people around."

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