Page 8 of Filthy Business
Red shoes. Black stockings. Black skirt suit. Deep crimson blouse. Her lips were painted the same sinful shade. Her hair was twisted up again, but this time no curls—more like a quiff. Sleek. Severe. Powerful.
I almost reached up to fix my hair.
“Mr Trentham, Sean said you wanted to see me,” she said, hesitating by the door.
I smiled on the outside, but inside? Rage.
Sean?
Why wasn’t he Mr Grant?
Why was he Sean?
“I wanted to know what you think of my company so far. Kate said you were enjoying your time here.”
She relaxed and moved forward when I gestured to the seat before me.
“I’m impressed, sir. You’ve built quite the company—and expanded so much in the last fifteen years. A true visionary,” she said as she sat down.
When she crossed her legs, her skirt rode up, revealing the shadowed welt of her stocking. I shifted slightly and pulled my chair in to hide the growing problem beneath my belt.
Then I saw it—the awe in her eyes—the respect.
How could I use this?
“I had my strategies. Would you like to have a chat after work about it? There’s a great restaurant only a few blocks away.”
Too fast.
Dickhead.
Her lips parted. Eyes wide. A flash of shock—then delight.
“You’d do that? For me? Yes! I would love to know more,” she said, clapping her hands together before quickly clasping them in front of those perfect breasts.
I swallowed. Hard.
Play it cool. Do not fuck this up.
“Of course. I’d planned to have the director join us, but unfortunately, Dennis had a prior engagement,” I added, with just the right amount of regret in my tone.
“No, this is wonderful, sir. I appreciate you taking the time out for me. I’m the most junior person in your office,” she said, unclasping her hands and wiping her palms on her skirt.
Yes.
It was happening.
Her smile was enthusiastic. Genuine. Warmth radiated from her like a glow.
So innocent.
Sugar daddy or something darker… I didn’t care. I wanted her.
Badly.
“Tell me about your time in the executive’s office?”
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