Page 19 of Seductive Scoundrel

“These are for you,” Jane says, appearing out of nowhere, giving me a heart attack. She throws two boxes on top of my desk without preamble. “You’re lucky. Your numbers held up. All my meetings went well.”

I merely nod because I don’t give a shit right now. My focus is on the boxes that must be from Dean. The largest box is wrapped in gold foil paper and tied with Versace’s signature ribbon. The small, shoe-sized box is wrapped in bright red paper with a Louboutin crest in the center.

My heart is thumping so hard it rings in my ears, and I might as well be in a wind tunnel. I’m not sure if it’s because my boss is standing there, staring daggers at me, or because I’m pretty sure that Mr. Big Dick has just sent me the most expensive gift in the history of Mia Ford.

“You realize it’s unprofessional to receive gifts at work, Ford,” Jane states, an audible edge to her already harsh voice.

I nod again, hoping she’ll leave so that I can open them in peace.

Instead, she runs a finger over the Louboutin crest. “I expect this won’t happen again, but since they’re here, we might as well take a look.”

We?

Sheer surprise courses through my body and I can’t help it – I make eye contact with her, which I rarely do. Generally, we communicate through text or e-mail, but for those oh-so-lovely times when I’m blessed to be in her physical presence, I stare at my laptop or shoes.

It’s a trick I discovered when I started. It’s the same theory as looking a rabid dog in the eyes – it encourages attack and the last thing I want to do is aggravate my boss.

This time, however, I break the rules. And in that second, she seems – human. There’s excitement shining in her pale blue eyes, and I imagine she hasn’t received many gifts like these either.

I hold the shoebox out to her. “If we both open one, it’ll take less time.” I’d prefer to carefully pick off the tape myself and save the paper, savoring the entire experience. It’s from Louboutin for heaven’s sake. Now is probably the only time I’ll actually touch something from that designer, aside from fondling shoes in the store.

But it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make for the greater good.

My greater good.

“Excellent thinking, Ford,” she says, grabbing the package out of my hands.

I watch her tear into the gift wrap while I ease the paper open on the Versace package, my heart ripping into tiny pieces along with the paper she’s shredding.

“Holy Dina!” Jane claims, holding up a pair of the nicest black stilettos I’ve ever seen.

They’re basic and oh-so-perfect because they’ll go with absolutely anything.

I’m also sure they cost a cool grand.

Mr. Big Dick is obviously loaded – and nuts. Who spends this kind of money on a woman he’s never actually met?

Although, technically, he thinks he’s met me.

Shit.

A shiver of unease courses through me because our relationship, for lack of a better word, is based on a lie. But I never expected things to even get this far.

That’s a problem for later though. Right now, I’m working on picking my jaw up off the floor.

“Here, give me that,” Jane says, pulling the box over and then demolishing the wrapping paper. She rips the lid off and pulls out a cherry red dress, holding it against her body.

On me, it should fall just above the knee and hug every curve. It’s so beautiful that I want to cry.

I definitely can’t accept these gifts.

Can I?

“Pretty fancy stuff, Ford. Who are they from?”

“I didn’t see a card,” I reply, although it’s clear exactly who they’re from. No one else I know could afford the shoes let alone the dress paired with the shoes.

Jane rummages through the demolition pile on my desk, finding a small white envelope with my name on it. “Here it is. That’s how I knew these were for you.” She opens the envelope while my jaw falls back onto the floor.

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