Page 48 of Devil In A Suit

I take the stairs up and come to a space on the roof of the entire building: a room made entirely of glass. The floors are made of weathered yellow flagstones and there are charming rugs with intricate patterns on it. An antique chandelier hangs from the arched roof and there is a wrought iron table, a gorgeous curved cream sofa and chairs next to a pond, where red and yellow koi swim serenely. The air is filled with the sound of running water from a little stone fountain.

Sunlight filters in through the leaves, making the space look like a magical forest.

Over my years as an estate agent, I always notice these architectural features that make a space special. This apartment feels like an absolute treasure. I have never seen anything like this in my life. I find myself falling in love with the secret forest despite myself because my preference is the shabby chic, but this is beyond beautiful. Its beauty feels timeless and unique.

I can’t help but wonder who maintains this garden. It feels too personal to be contracted out to a gardening company.

Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I’m about to send some messages to the office when I hear Muriel’s voice calling. Feeling almost guilty to be up here, I quickly go down the stairs.

There is a classically beautiful blonde in a fitting black suit standing next to her. Something about her… Instantly, my guard goes up.

“That will be all, thank you, Muriel,” she says coldly, and Muriel walks away, her face expressionless.

"Miss Fitzpatrick," the woman says, her gaze locking onto mine with a hint of disdain. “Mr. Ivanovich sent me. I’ve brought your amended contract.” I notice she has a foreign accent and that she doesn’t give me her name. I refuse to play her game. Whoever she is, I genuinely don’t care. I say nothing.

“Are you his secretary or something?” I ask rudely, mirroring her condescending tone.

Her eyebrows shoot up and I can see the fury in her icy blue eyes. “I’m his PA.”

“I see. You can leave the contract on the table. I’ll go through it when I’m ready.”

Her frown deepens, and it hits me. She’s the one who purchased all the clothes in my closet. It makes sense; the style matches her own—forced to be proper but undeniably sultry.

"Please sit down," she says coldly. “There are things I need to explain to you. It’s important. Mr. Ivanovich expects certain things.”

Lifting my chin, I walk towards one of the chairs at the table and sit down. She follows suit.

"Mr. Ivanovich has a packed week ahead, and you’ll need to accompany him to many of his events," she begins immediately, her tone all business, as she pushes an envelope towards me. "I’ve already filled your closet with everything you’ll need. I tried my best to gauge your size, but if there’s anything that doesn’t fit or needs taking in, I’ll give the seamstress’s contact information to Muriel, and you can arrange it yourself. Please ensure that you’re presentable at all times. Mr. Ivanovich has a very respectful image to uphold, and it mustn’t be tarnished for any reason."

Her words are sharp, almost demeaning, almost proprietorial, as if Ivan belongs to her, but I cock my head and raise an eyebrow. I want to say something sharp in return, but I restrain myself. After all, my fight isn’t with her—it’s with no one, really. The deal I’ve entered into is my choice, and I’ve decided that it’s worth what I’m being offered in exchange. So why should I feel ashamed of that? Especially after the way Ivan had nearly rendered me incapable of walking last night.

"Don’t worry," I tell her, my tone quiet but pointed. "I wouldn’t dream of it. It’s such a short period of time, and he’s paying an obscene amount for it, so why would I cause anytrouble? I’m making more money in a month than most women ever will in a lifetime, and all I have to do is fuck the most fuckable man I’ve ever met in my life."

The color drains from her face, and I take a moment to relish it. I don’t give her a chance to respond before I turn my attention to the contract that I pull out of the envelope. Calmly, I start reading the contract, cross-checking that no major changes have been made to the version I originally read.

"I need to get back to work," she says abruptly. "Some of us have real jobs to attend to. If everything is in order, just sign here."

I glare at her and I’m about to tell her to fuck off when she jumps to her feet, startling me in the process. It takes a moment for me to realize why she’s reacted so suddenly.

"Mr. Ivanovich," she says. Her voice has lost all its disdain. She sounds positively flustered.

My heart jumps into my throat, and I nearly rise as well, but as usual with him, my legs freeze. My entire body turns heavy, as though the weight of his presence alone is pinning me to my chair. It’s an unbelievable feeling, like the air itself is thickening around me, and when I finally manage to turn my head, I take in the sight of him. He is not wearing a jacket. His tailored pants are cut perfectly to his physique and his soft blue-striped shirt makes him look impossibly refined. The way his sleeves are rolled up despite his polished look is so disarming that I find myself grasping for control over my body, particularly my breathing.

It’s easy to understand why I’ve been so captivated. He’s everything. Intensely powerful and magnetic. I stop judging myself for my reaction and realize that he is worth it. He’s worth every bit of this overwhelming attraction, every moment of self-hate.

I turn my face away, trying desperately to ignore him. After all, I’m not required to acknowledge him like his secretary does—I don’t work for him.

"Oh, you’re here?" his PA exclaims, clearly thrown off by his unexpected arrival. "You have a meeting in Manhattan.”

"Something urgent came up so I called and canceled," he replies with a careless shrug. The sound of his voice is so rich, so deep, that my entire being seems to vibrate in response.

"You cancelled it yourself—" she repeats, confusion evident in her voice.

"Yes, I knew you were busy with the contract. You can reschedule the meeting for next week," he says calmly.

She frowns. "Something urgent came up? What’s more urgent than the meeting you had?" she presses in an amazed, almost disbelieving voice.

"Something of a personal nature.” His words send a wave of satisfaction through me, though I try to suppress the smile creeping onto my lips. I can feel his gaze on me, even though he’s addressing her.

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