Page 35 of Dirty Little Secrets
Four other men filing in the room and each take an empty seat. The last one in is Landon, his eyes are glued to my chest probably trying to figure out where I got the blouse. It’s from a French designer I pronounced wrong when I showed it to Kristina. According to her, it cost way more than my weekly salary.
“Gentlemen, Lady,” Xaiden says, at the head of the table. “Please take your seats.”
I sit at Xaiden’s left. Landon sits across from me.
“As some of you are aware, Ms. Summers has replaced my previous secretary, Jean.”
Landon snorts.
“Is there a problem?” Xaiden asks, his tone turning to ice.
“Just surprised.”
“How so?”
“Out of all the internal candidates, Emma chose her?”
“Obviously,” Mike cuts in.
“I chose her,” Xaiden says. “And I had the final say.”
I glance up. He meets my eyes the praise shooting through my veins like a drug. “She’s good. I’m aware of your history with her outside the office, but according to Ms. Summers, it’s irrelevant. And based on her performance, I agree.” He gestures toward the folders. “What you are all seeing is a contract for fifteen-million-dollars she closed during a lunch meeting.”
Landon’s mouth drops slightly.
Whistles and congratulations ripple across the room.
“Excellent job, Ms. Summers,” Xaiden says, his compliment like the memory of his tongue on my skin. Since that first night, I don’t even see him as Mr. Drazen anymore. Inside my head, he’s Xaiden. X on tongue from the pleasure he evokes when he’s inside me.
I take notes as Xaiden gives the room his full attention. He details timelines, deliverables, and his expectations for the two-week report with a comprehensive analysis. I also quietly make a note of how he uploads a new client into the system. The process is efficient, deliberate, and... revealing.
“Is there anything you need from me regarding programming?” I ask.
“Mike handles that,” Landon cuts in, tone sharp like I’m slow or trying to keep up with something above my pay grade.
I bite back a retort. I wasn’t speaking to him. But Typical Landon is always inserting himself. He assumes Drazen gave me this job because he wants to sleep with me. Because in Landon’s world, women are classified as wives or whores. Never equals.
The door opens.
Landon’s secretary, Chloe enters with Landon’s coffee. Espresso, splash of milk, no sugar. She smiles, but the flicker of disdain when she notices me doesn’t go unnoticed.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says, though she’s clearly not.
She thinks she hides it well, but she doesn’t. She’s been fucking him. I knew it the minute condoms became non-negotiable and his late nights were more frequent than usual.
I smile, sweet as syrup. “Nice shade.”
“What was that?” Her tone snaps, defensive.
“Your lipstick. The shade…it’s a nice color.”
The men glance over. Chloe stiffens.
Her eyes dart from Landon to me. “Oh. Thanks.”
I casually grab a napkin, pour a little water on it, and hand it to Landon. “Why are you giving me this?”
I motion to the smear of red on his collar. “You might want to be careful. The dry cleaner left a note three months ago saying that shade of lipstick doesn’t come out.”
