Page 51 of Cuffed By Love

I'm dreaming.This has got to be a dream or a very disturbing nightmare. Because I cannot be hiding under Devin’s desk listening to his girlfriend sensually tell him what she wants to do to him in this very office, on this same desk I am pathetically crouched under.

This can't be my life. The Vice-fucking-president of the company is hiding under the CEO's desk like some tacky little mistress. I am literally sweeping the floor with my dignity at this point. I cover my ears with my hands, not even giving a toss that I am tugging Devin closer. I can feel his fingers brushing against my shoulder, and I have the sudden desire to bite it as hard as I can before I scream in frustration. However, the knock at the door rips me from my deliberations, and I stiffen when I hear footsteps and then my father's voice.

"Devin, my boy. Do you have a moment?"

Holy crap on a cracker. How the fuck am I going to get out of this quandary now? Oh my God, he's going to think I'm under the desk blowing him off while he's on the phone to his girlfriend! I feel my cheeks burn red hot, and honestly, my stomach constricts like I was on the verge of throwing up when my anxiety spikes. Oh my God, oh my God, think Mira, think!

"Uh, yes, of course. Megan, I have to go. I'll talk to you later." I hear Devin say, and Megan utters a goodbye before he hangs up. I chew anxiously on my lip while I rack my brain for an excuse as to why the fuck, I'm under the desk. Maybe he won't notice I'm not there?

"Where's Mira?"

Okay, never mind.

A moment of awkward silence passes through the room, which to me felt like an eternity until Devin’s eyes lower to meet mine. I close my eyes briefly and hold my breath.

"Mira Evans!" I wince at my dad's booming voice and groan inwardly. He's full naming me, which means he's bloody furious, and I can just picture the look of shock and disappointment on his face. Devin pushes his seat back to give me room to crawl out from under the desk, and I slowly push myself up to my feet and turn to face my father, who stood glaring from me to Devin.

"Daddy, this is not what it looks like—"

"No? What were you doing then, Mira, having a blasted picnic under the table?!" He barks, his eyes bulging while he pins me with his signature stare that had Ayla and me quaking with fear growing up. I grimace at his insinuation. I've not even done anything wrong, for goodness’ sake. Nevertheless, my face was still aflame with humiliation as though I was just caught red-handed with my hand deep down the cookie jar. The cookie jar being Devin's pants.

"Uncle Noah, I know what you're thinking and how this must look but truthfully, it's not at all as it seems," Devin affirms, rising from his chair and stepping beside me.

My Dad’s angry gaze shifts from me to Dev. "Is that right? So, would you care to explain what my daughter was doing under your desk while you were on the phone with your girlfriend? Because from where I'm standing, Devin, it's pretty darn obvious what the pair of you were up to!" I gape at him wide-eyed and go to speak, but he holds his hand up, and I shut my mouth. "This is a place of business. And you're both Senior Executives, for crying out loud, what the hell are you thinking?" My Dad snarls, gesturing to both of us heatedly. "I bound you together so you'll solve your differences, so you can focus on working together, not engage in promiscuous activities while at work."

"Oh my God." I groan, mortified. I think this is the lowest moment of my life. I have never felt so utterly humiliated as I did at that very moment. I squeeze my eyes shut and desperately pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. "Daddy, Jesus! There was absolutely no engaging in any kind of promiscuity. I was just hiding. That's it; nothing was happening. I swear."

"Mira's telling the truth. My girlfriend was calling, and she would have hit the roof if she found out about this." He explains and holds up our cuffed hands together. "So, I asked Mira to help me out and hide while I spoke to her to avoid upsetting her. That's all there is to it." Devin explains evenly, and my dad’s eyes flitter over to me, silently seeking affirmation, which I provide with an assuring nod. His shoulders visibly relax, and he shoves a hand through his short, greying hair and exhales slowly through his nose, his honey orbs still fixed on me.

"Very well," He heaves a sigh, evidently satisfied by our responses and scratches the stubble on his chin while he observes us. "Devin, take it from someone who's been married a long time and been there; keeping secrets from your other half never ends well."

"So, I keep being told," Dev responds, giving me a knowing look, those eyes I adore gleaming while the corner of his lip twitches with amusement.

If ever I had a chance of getting these cuffs off, it would be now.

"You know what else is causing more harm than good, Daddy? These cuffs. Can you please take them off now? I can't do another twenty-four hours bound to him. Look at us for crying out loud; we're a mess." I complain dejectedly.

My father's gaze bounces back and forth between Devin and me, and he smiles, "What you call a 'mess' I consider progress, Mimi. I've not heard any screaming coming from either of your offices all day today, and I see you've even gotten through quite a bit of work, so evidently, this system is effective."

I shake my head hastily, "No! No, it is not effective. It's a nuisance and a mighty pain in my arse, Daddy!" I cry out and lightly smack Devin’s arm when he chuckles beside me. "Want to jump in here maybe, Dev?"

Devin scowls while rubbing his arm, "Judging by the look on your dad’s face, Tinks, I highly doubt anything we say at this point is going to change his mind."

"The sooner you get Samantha to sign on with us and work through your problems, the quicker you can both go back to having your freedom, kids." I want to cry. I actually want to sink to the floor and weep like a brat.

"Daddy, come on, we can get Wickham without being bound to one another every moment of the day. I promise we'll work day and night if we have to. Please?"

My Dad shakes his head stubbornly, and I sigh in defeat. Devin was right. It didn't matter what we say or how much we contest, I could sit here and argue till I'm blue in the face, but for whatever reason, he's adamant about keeping us cuffed together. Something deep down tells me there's more to this than just getting some author to sign on with us. But what? What's his motive here? And why is my father so concerned about mine and Devin's problems.

"Uncle Noah, when you walked in, you asked if I had a moment, was there something you needed?" Devin questions curiously, and my dad nods.

"Ah, yes, of course. I received the invitations to the IPC event. This year, it will be held in Rome, and I would like you and Mira to attend together to represent Evans and King. Usually, I would go, but unfortunately, I cannot attend this year as it clashes with another event I must attend. It's a two-day conference, I've emailed both your assistants the details, and I already send over your RSVP to confirm your attendance."

Wait, what?! Rome? Devin and I are going to Rome—one of the most romantic cities in the world—for two days together? Well, that's just peachy. If this doesn't have disaster written all over it, I don't know what does.

"Yeah, no problem." Devin concurs readily, and I gape at him, surprised. Why does he seem so unperturbed by this news? I don't like this. I don't like this at all. "When is the conference?"

"Third of July."

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