Page 26 of Hard Limits

Grey nodded. “Indeed. You both became successful in your own ways. Achieved your goals. You created a profitable business and made money; she hooked her talons into a human cash machine.” Another of those sideways glances Grey had become so proficient at. “Speak of the devil.”

“So this is where you disappeared to.” Carissa scowled at Grey, no attempt at a fake smile this time, then turned to Brax. “I thought you might have crept off somewhere with that pretty new assistant of yours.”

She kept her tone light as if she were making a joke, but they all understood that she wasn’t. That Carissa was aware of Meera’s existence was no surprise. She harvested information from her spies, then slipped those little tidbits into conversation to make sure Brax knew that she knew. In the beginning, she’d stayed quiet about her intelligence-gathering operation, they both had, but as months of frustration became years, it had turned into a sick, twisted game.

But the mention of Meera was also a problem. Because Meera was different from the legion of assistants who’d come before her. If Brax had been asked why she was different, he’d have struggled to articulate the reason, but he wanted to keep her. Maybe it was the intoxicating mix of grit and vulnerability? Maybe it was the beauty she didn’t seem to realise she possessed? Or maybe it was the care she showed for those around her? He’d never thought watching a woman perform the Heimlich manoeuvre would be a turn-on, but a man lived and learned.

And tonight, he’d also learned that he needed to put more space between himself and the goddess who sat outside his office every day. Plus he’d need to fire Teresa if she ever put Meera in a backless dress again. He could still feel the silky, warm skin of her lower back on his palm. Fuck, he’d dreamed about it last night. This was what Carissa had done to him.

“Rest assured, I can resist the temptation. Have you finished eye-fucking Gregorio yet? Or do you want to go back for a second round?”

Carissa’s mouth formed an O of shock. Yes, they jabbed at each other this way in private, but never before had Brax landed such a barb with an audience. Grey merely smirked.

“I might have known he’d take your side.”

She turned on her heel and stormed off, much to Brax’s relief. Grey raised his glass in a mock toast.

“Here’s to your future divorce. Good luck, buddy. You’ll need it.”

CHAPTER 10

THE ASSISTANT

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Meera, happy birthday to you!”

Charlotte was carrying a cake with a glittery “25” on it, and what seemed like everyone from the third floor had squashed into my office along with Teresa, several waitstaff, and a few girls I recognised as being from downstairs. My eyes began to sting—this was the nicest thing to happen since I’d left Massachusetts, and it sure made me smile on a Monday morning.

“But…but I didn’t even tell anyone it was my birthday.”

Mainly because it wasn’t. I hoped Alfie was treating Meera to a nice dinner in Portugal, but I had my doubts, and I hadn’t even sent her a gift because we’d agreed at the beginning that mailing items was too risky. The fewer links between us, the better. Meanwhile, I’d turn twenty-six next month to zero fanfare whatsoever. Maybe I’d buy myself a cookie.

Rhonda held up a box wrapped in shiny gold paper. “Dunnvale rules—everyone gets a cake and a gift on their birthday.”

“Open it, open it,” Charlotte squealed.

With everyone watching expectantly, I tore away the paper and thanked my new colleagues for the orange-blossom-scented candle and matching hand cream. Despite the unorthodox nature of the business, there was a sense of camaraderie here that had been missing at Clifton Packaging and Silver’s Gym.

“Thank you so much.”

“And it’s Becky’s birthday on Wednesday, so we’re going out for drinks. Why don’t we make it a joint celebration?”

“Any excuse for a party,” Selena muttered.

“What’s wrong with that?” Charlotte asked.

“Absolutely nothing.” Selena turned to me. “So you’ll come?”

I’d been working for Mr. Vale for a month now, and my first paycheck was in my bank account. Well, Meera’s bank account. She had several, and I’d taken over a rarely used one for our pretence. Plus my car was running again. Although this week, it had started making a weird vibration when I drove over fifty, so it would need further attention soon, but I could afford a drink or two as long as I avoided expensive cocktails.

“I suppose.”

“Careful, don’t sound too enthusiastic.”

“I’d love to.”

“Better.”

Charlotte beamed at me. “We’re meeting in the Pink Panda at seven.”

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