Page 47 of Tempting Frankie
I'm staring at myself in the mirror, trying to decide if I look more like a competent professional or a deer caught in headlights. Spoiler alert, it's definitely the latter. My hands are shaking as I attempt to button up my crisp white blouse, which suddenly feels too tight everywhere.
Fuck.
I can't even button my own shirt without having a meltdown. Some professional I am. I'm about to say screw it and change into my ratty old sweater when the door swings open.
Alexander strides in like he owns the place. Which, I guess he does. His eyes rake over me, hungry and possessive, before softening into something that makes my insides turn to jelly.
“You look amazing, Francesca,” he murmurs, voice like warm honey. “Are you ready to go? I have a nine o'clock meeting.”
I swallow hard, trying to ignore how his presence fills the room, and makes me want to climb him like a tree.
Focus, Frankie.
“Um, about that,” I stammer, fiddling with my half-buttoned blouse. “Do you think maybe we could, I don't know, arrive separately? For propriety's sake?”
Alexander's eyebrow quirks up, amusement dancing in his piercing green eyes. “Propriety? Since when do you care about that?”
I roll my eyes, some of my snark returning. “Since I don't want a giant blazing sign that says, ‘I fuck the big boss’ floating above my head like some kind of horny Sim.” I’m gesturing wildly, nearly popping a button in the process. “I mean, come on. People are going to talk enough as it is.”
He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down my spine. “Let them talk,” he says, closing the distance between us in two long strides. His large hands cup my face, thumbs stroking my cheeks. “I want everyone to know you're mine.”
My breath hitches. God, the things this man does to me. But I'm not giving in that easily. “Yeah, well, I'd like to actually do my job without being the office scandal. Thank you very much.”
Alexander sighs, relenting. “Fine. You can take a separate car. I’ll have one waiting for you downstairs. But don't think this discussion is over.” His eyes narrow with promise. “We'll continue this later.”
I gulp, heat pooling low in my belly. Damn him and his sexy authority voice. “Looking forward to it, boss,” I quip, trying to salvage some dignity.
He smirks, knowing exactly what he does to me. Bastard. With one last scorching look, he turns to leave. “Do not be late, Francesca,” he calls over his shoulder.
As the door clicks shut behind him, I slump against the vanity.
I got this.
Or in the words of my little sister, fake it til you make it bitch.
Stepping out of the sleek black car, my heels click against the pavement as I straighten my top for the millionth time. The Steele Enterprises building looms over me like a giant glass middle finger to the sky.
Fitting, really.
“Thanks,” I mutter to the driver, who probably thinks I'm a walking disaster in designer clothes.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. You've got this, Frankie. Just waltz in there like you own the place. Or, you know, like you're sleeping with the guy who owns the place.
The revolving door spins me into a gleaming lobby that screams “more money than God.” Marble floors, art that probably costs more than my entire life, and a reception desk straight out of a sci-fi movie.
And that's where my bravado screeches to a halt. Where the fuck am I supposed to go?
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath, fumbling for my phone. I should have asked Alexander for directions, or a map, or a goddamn sherpa. But no, I was too busy trying to maintain my dignity while he eye-fucked me in the bedroom.
I'm seriously contemplating making a run for it when a familiar voice cuts through the chaos in my head.
“Miss DeLuca.”
I whirl around, nearly losing my balance on these ridiculous heels, to find Alexander walking toward me. He's the picture of corporate perfection in his tailored suit, every hair in place.His face is a mask of professional courtesy, but those eyes are dancing with glee.
He’s such a dick.
“Mr. Steele,” I manage to squeak out, hoping my face isn't as red as it feels. “I was just, um...”
