Page 26 of His Temptation
As he leans back in his chair, blowing out a breath, I see a possible crack in his armor. Small but there.
“Very well. I suppose I can go alone this weekend.”
Whatever moment of honesty I thought we were having seems to be gone. The closed-off CEO is back. But I know I need to do this. I need to figure out how to get away for the weekend for work. It’s something that will continue to be necessary in order to keep my job. I will just talk to Angela about helping out.
“No,” I say adamantly. “I can make it work. I just need to talk to my neighbor.”
“Here.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. Then he hands me a black card, which I know only few people in this world have. “Use this. There’s no limit on it, like your work card. Spend as much as you’d like for outfits for the weekend.”
“What?” I gasp as I hold it in my hand like it’s fragile and it might break. “I can’t possibly use your money. I can buy my own clothes.”
The sharp edge of his stare sends chills down my spine. It makes me think of my thoughts last night, and I feel moisture pool in my panties. Shit.
“This is a work event. And the event is extremely formal. I need you to be dressed accordingly. I will give you the contact number to my stylist. She will help you. It’s not a suggestion, Kylie.”
There it is. A nice gesture, followed by a dick remark. Apparently, my clothes aren’t nice enough for him to be seen with me, and he’s making it known this is an order.
I nod my head and walk out of his office. I’m torn between wanting to smack the guy for his demanding ways or … well, I’m not going to go there.
12
LINCOLN
She shows up at the airport with a small suitcase and an overnight bag on her shoulder. She certainly doesn’t pack like most of my assistants when we go on work trips. They’d come with two massive suitcases like we’d be gone for weeks.
I watch her walk up to the private terminal in her skinny jeans and white tank top. Her sunglasses and gold jewelry give her a casual yet sophisticated look. I’ve never seen her in anything but business attire. It reflects her true age of twenty-one. It makes me feel even more like shit for my dick twitching in my pants at the moment.
It reminds me of the promise I made myself the other night. I have to start making sure I bring our working relationship back to something more professional. I need her to be afraid of me again.
When she walks into the building, she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, pulling some of her long brown locks up withit. Her face is flushed from the heat—or maybe something else. Something I’m not ready to admit.
I look down at my watch. “You’re late,” I bark.
Her face turns down. She glances at her gold watch. “It’s, like, thirty seconds past noon.”
“I told you noon. Not thirty seconds after noon,” I demand.
She huffs a breath of air but gives up her luggage to the staff. I’m eyeing her outfit. It’s nice. Definitely laid-back for flying, but I can tell the clothing and jewelry are expensive. She looks so classy.
“Do you have the itinerary for the weekend?” I ask, needing to focus my mind back on work.
“Yes, Mr. Monroe. We should make it to our hotel by six thirty, giving us an hour to get ready before the cocktail party at eight.”
“And you booked our rooms?” I confirm as we head for the tarmac.
She rolls her eyes. “Obviously.”
I stop by the doors and turn. “Miss Ricci, I think you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking to.”
She widens her eyes, possibly thrown off by my using her last name again.
“You work for me,” I state matter-of-factly as I step closer into her space. “And while I might have let you get away with your attitude recently, I must remind you that I do not permit that kind of demeanor. Not from anyone.”
Her breaths become ragged. “You … you’re trying to scare me.”
I shake my head like she isn’t spot on. “No. I’m reminding you where you stand so you can act accordingly.”
Her mouth opens, almost as if to say something defiant, but then she closes it again. Damn if I don’t want to know what she was going to say. I see her rub her thighs back and forth but then think I’m imagining it. Of course, I am. There’s no way.
