Page 14 of Think Outside the Boss

And then, pain of all pains, he glances down at the thick watch on his arm. I recognize the small logo on the watch face.

Yes, definitely different worlds.

“Somewhere you have to be?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” His fingers give me a final, lazy stroke, and to my eternal surprise, he bends his head to kiss me once between my legs in farewell.

He reaches for his clothing as I watch, turning onto my stomach. “I was just about to ask you when parties like these end, but you beat me to it.”

“I’m more of an instructor than a teacher.” He looks at me from a height that is no less than six feet, perhaps six-two, buckling the belt in his pants. “You look fucking fantastic lying like that, by the way.”

“Thank you.” I rise up on an elbow, knowing my breasts look great like this. The whole purpose of these parties is great, amazing, uncomplicated sex.

Sex that doesn’t have strings.

Sex that doesn’t come with expectations.

“Will you instruct me on one final point?”

He nods, doing up the buttons to his shirt. “I’m feeling generous.”

“Are you allowed to have sex with the same guest at another party?”

“Ah.” His grin flashes crookedly. “And this is a hypothetical?”

“Of course.”

“It’s allowed,” he says, and the heat in his eyes makes it clear that I’m not the only one thinking it.

It seems like I’m not done being Rebecca Hartford after all.

Scooping my mask up from the floor, he approaches me on the bed. He’s fully dressed now.

“My unmasked beauty,” he murmurs, tying the mask back on silken strings around my head. “Fucking you has been the highlight of my month.”

“How quaint,” I say. “It was only the highlight of my week.”

He barks out a surprised laugh, his fingers beneath my chin. He lifts my face to his and gives me a final, lingering kiss, one that speaks not of goodbyes but of unspoken promises. “See you around, Strait-laced.”

I stop him when he has one hand on the door, my words rushing out of me. “Tell me one true thing about you.”

He pauses, his gaze traveling across my nude body with unmistakable admiration. “If you hadn’t spoken to me tonight, I would have broken the rules and done so first,” he says. He gives me a crooked grin and shuts the door behind him.

4

Freddie

My first day at Exciteur Consulting starts with a presentation that is at least fifteen minutes too long. I glance left and right to my fellow Junior Professionals, the company’s fancy euphemism for paid trainee, and see them diligently taking notes.

So I resume taking my own.

Exciteur Consulting recruits three trainees for this one-year program every year, one of the most prestigious in the industry. Exciteur Consulting might not be a household name, but they’re everywhere. Advising a large medical company on advertising? Exciteur Consulting. Hired to oversee the strategic overhaul of a failing conglomerate? Exciteur Consulting. Come an alien invasion or the apocalypse, I have no doubt they’d be hired on the spot for their crisis management expertise.

The presentation wraps up with a flourish, and we’re sent off to our different departments. The woman who calls my name is blonde, short-haired, and in her mid-forties. “Frederica Bilson?”

“Yes.”

“You’re with me.”

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