Page 75 of Savage Bosses

As I suspected, at seven in the evening, the floor was quiet. Empty of employees that had long called it a night. Save for one. My personal assistant sat in the same place I’d left her hours ago.

Dutiful.

Committed.

Repentant of her screw ups.

My stomach tightened as the last thought sent blood rushing below my waist. Was she truly sorry though?

Since our night at the Den, she’d made one error after the other. First, she left me unconscious, then lied about not remembering who I was. She showed up to work late on her first day and now she made mistakes to my personal calendar. In my world, mistakes had consequences. They cost. And why should I be the only one to pay?

The moment I closed the distance between us, her head snapped upward from her rapid typing on the keyboard. I savored the flush brightening her dark features and the slight quiver of her lower lip before she pressed them firmly together.

Was she in her chat?

“Mr. Hijra.” She sprang to her feet. “I didn’t expect you back in the office until tomorrow.”

“I intended to work.” As if I could concentrate on work with her outside my office, making weak attempts to appease me.

“Of course.” She shifted uneasily. “Is there anything I can help with?”

I cocked a brow. The woman was a walking freight train. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough helping? If I didn’t know better I’d think you’re intentionally working against me.”

Her eyes widened. “I would never do anything to intentionally sabotage your business,” she said with a note of anger at my accusation.

“You’re great with clients. They mention your competence on more than one occasion. And the other assistants praise your work ethic—”

“Thank you?” She said with a note of hesitation.

“But when it comes to your duties to me—”

“I’ve apologized for…everything.”

“Do you think pretty words are enough?”

“My apologies aren’t meaningless,” her chin tilted, demonstrating her bravado.

“Yet, they have not provided the proper motivation to correct your habitual wrongdoings against me.”

She sucked in a sharp breath when I stepped closer. “Are you going to fire me?”

“Shouldn’t I?” I countered, pinching her chin and raising her head until she gazed into my eyes. “No assistant has ever potentially cost me the millions you have if Evan’s plan doesn’t pan out.”

She gasped. Her mouth parted in a sweet invitation I fought to resist. Since my memory returned, knowing she sat outside my door drove me mad. Each time she unintentionally displayed her round ass, I imagined burying myself between her dark valley.

“If you’re not going to fire me and my apologies aren’t enough, what do you want?”

My eyes narrow at her defiance. So sweet. So tempting. “I want you to feel the consequences of your actions.”

“I’m not some misbehaving child —”

“Woman,” I correct. “Who needs to correct her mistakes.”

Her eyes widened and she jerked but my grip didn't waver.

“I’ll work overtime and I’ll call the politician.”

I shook my head. “You misunderstand your position, Miss Prince.” I leaned close. The coffee on her breath tickled my nose. As much as I tried to ignore the pull between us I couldn’t. Our relationship went beyond work. She had her chance to make our relationship right. “I determine all your punishments and all your rewards.”

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