Page 7 of The Unplanned Wedding

Her instant agreement to my directives is a turn on. Her quick thinking when it comes to equating an invitation to a society event with the possibility of improving the image of my company, combined with her knowledge of the facts needed to back up her suggestion, is not only impressive, but also bloody attractive. And when she continues to stand there with her eyelids lowered, a whisper of emotion brushes up against my mind, eliciting one word:submissive. Is she a natural submissive? Do I care if she is?

She’s my employee; doesn’t that make her off-limits?On the other hand, she’s the first person in this office I’ve exchanged more than a few words with—outside of Mary—and it’s stimulating.

Much as I relish being reclusive, I also enjoy being able to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t bore me. And who's easy on the eyes. I slide her phone across the desk and over to her.

She picks it up. "And the invitation?"

"Let them know I’ll be there.”

“Very good, Sir.”

Oh no, she didn’t.That 'Sir' at the end of the sentence has blood flowing to my groin.Definitely submissive.

Her features light up with a smile. Her brown eyes glow. Her sweet lips part to reveal white teeth and, suddenly, it feels hot in here.

She turns to leave, and I call out, "Oh, and Kelly?"

She pauses and scowls at me over her shoulder. "My name’s June."

I’m so taken in with the pout she’s wearing on her pink, rosebud mouth. A mouth that’s soft and seductive and hints at a lushness in her, a softness, I hunger to explore.

"Kelly." I say firmly and am rewarded with the deepening of her frown.

Her eyes flash fire, and pinpricks of interest stab at my chest. There are hidden depths to her that should keep me entertained for a while. One reason to hope she outlasts the others. Then, she pushes up the spectacles she’s wearing on her pert nose, and I realize the other reason to keep her around is that her sexy-librarian look does it for me.

Not that it makes a whit of difference. Soon, she’ll realize I’m not only disgusting to look at, but also disgusting on the inside, and she'll want to resign. But I’ll stay a step ahead. I’m going to test her. I’ll give her the most impossible tasks to complete. That way, she’ll understand that I’ve earned every bit of my reputation as The Beast. That way, I’ll push her limits untilshe quits. It’s inevitable she leaves, but this way, I’ll be in control of the timelines. Then she’ll be gone, and I can go back to working by myself. I’ll no longer be in suspense about when she’s going to leave me. It’s what prompts me to drawl, "I’ll be taking a plus one to the reception.”

“Oh?” Her gaze widens. “Whose name should I put down for that?”

“Yours.”

3

June

"He’s taking you to the society reception of the decade?" Zoey gapes from the window on my phone screen. "He’s taking you to the event billed as the crème de la crème of all social events?"

I should be excited that I’m getting the opportunity to attend a royal reception, which most women would give anything to get an invitation to, but frankly, I’m petrified. Me, with my plus-size figure, and fake-branded stilettos, and charity shop clothing, among those emaciated, skinny, model -looking, titled, snooty women who’ll, no doubt, look down at me.Ugh!

"He asked me to come in the role of his assistant. And only because he wants me to take notes on the discussions he has there for follow ups," I remind her.

Not that it dampens her enthusiasm. "Knox Davenport invited you to attend a high-profile extravaganza as his work date; imagine that.” She sighs.

There’s a gooey, romantic look in her eyes. Oh no, I need to dispel any notion of a relationship between me and my boss before she builds it up inher head. Becausethatis definitely not happening. N-a-a-h. No matter how much I’m attracted to him.

"I’m going as his work colleague," I say firmly.

And as someone who can fetch and carry for him, considering how he had me on my feet all day. On the positive side, I’ve lasted five days.

Not that I haven’t come close to killing him—when I’m not thinking of throwing myself at his feet and climbing him like a tree—but the thought of the salary I’m getting paid has stopped me from doing either.

I was the last to leave the office today as has become the norm. Except for bringing my boss his lunch, I haven’t left my desk. And my head was so full of my to-do-list, I forgot to buy my own lunch. If it weren’t for Mary—whose boss, Quentin Davenport, is my boss’ uncle—I would've starved.

She took pity on me and bought me a sandwich and coffee, refusing my offer to pay for it. I noticed the growing respect in her eyes as she waved at me on her way out the door at five p.m. on the dot. It’s Friday evening and the entire floor emptied out after her, but for my boss. And me. I didn’t see him again after he dismissed me, and I was both sad that I hadn’t had another chance to gaze upon those features of his, which resemble Lucifer, and relieved that I wasn’t at the receiving end of his “charisma.”

I'm there to do a job. I'm his assistant. No more, no less.

"How many managers ask their assistants to accompany them to a royal reception?" Zoey drawls.

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