Page 77 of Assistant to the Billionaire CEO

Her eyes were round as saucers—rounddancingsaucers—and her brown curls bounced around on her shoulders. She clearly thought it was hilarious. “Uh…like I said, forget I said that.” She didn’t even try to correct her assessment of me. She didn’t have to.That’s exactly what I think—that was what her expression and the tug at her lips were saying.

Even so, I liked that she didn’t try to convince me otherwise.

“Luckily for you, inthiscase and moment, I don’t believe corporal punishment is the best way to get someone’s cooperation.” Also, I didn’t have the time. I was in no mood to be interrupted a third time, which, if tendencies held, would likely happen. “Thus, in lieu of current circumstances, I’m going to have to insist that you hand me your panties.”

Her mouth fell open. The impudent smile was gone from her face. “You want my panties?” she squeaked in outrage. “For what?”

“So I can investigate whether you’re lying,” I said in as flat a tone as I could manage. “If they’re dry, I’ll know you were telling the truth.”

“Eh.” She stalled. “I was.”

“Good. If you were truthful and they’re dry, you get to keep them. If they’re not, your punishment will be spending the rest of the day without underwear.”

31

STELLA

All right.

Maybe Ihadtaken things a bit too far in the elevator. “Ace?”

“I’m only going to say this one more time. Underwear. Now,” he rumbled darkly.

I knew “the bossy grump” had won the minute he’d stated his terms. There wasnoway my panties would be dry when I handed them to him, but what chance did I really have? He would never let it go. I wiggled out of my panties, slightly lifting my skirt to do so. Luckily, I’d put on a nice pair this morning. His eyes were on me the whole time.

Scrunching up my lacy black G-string in my hand, I held it out to him. “Here you go, Mr. Windsor.”

He wrapped his fingers around the bundle of cloth. “So I was right,” he replied, his voice dropping in pitch by at least two octaves. “You little tease.”

“I amnot,” I replied.

“Oh, yes you are,” he growled, triumph in his eyes. He shoved my wet panties into his pocket. I tried not to allow myself to think about what he’d do with them when he was alone.

“When can I have them back?” I asked. “They’re my favorite pair,” I added, not even sure why I would say that—as if it would convince him to return them to me any quicker.

“When I’m done with them,” he said in a deep baritone.

“That means?”

“As you should be aware, I have an investor meeting right now, which I’m late for, and after that, I have a number of off-site meetings to attend. I’ll likely only be back at the office late this evening. You may have them then if I’m back before you’ve left for the day—or else I’ll return them to you tomorrow. Until then, you are not to put any other panties on. Understood?”

There went my idea of storming to the boutique one block down to get an extra pair. At this point, the friendly saleslady would probably be expecting me. First a dress and a bra, now panties—what was next? A “daily underwear delivery subscription” right onto my office desk?

“Just as long as you know you’re the cruelest boss ever.”

“I know,” he growled in his deep timbre. “And I’m going to make you put them back on in front of me when I give them back to you too.” He winked at me and then turned to leave, heading toward the executive boardroom down the hallway to our left.

He was such a bossy grump. How was I to concentrate on work? Honestly now. I loudly exhaled, trying to release some of the tension from my body. It didn’t work. Not gonna lie, it was kinda hot, but it was so bosshole-y! The tingling sensation between my legs still felt urgent and pleading, like I needed Ace’s touch on my little clit to ever feel normal again.

He said I deserved punishment. I didn’t deserve punishment. At least not like that. Having no panties and him enjoying knowing that I wasn’t wearing any the whole day, stood innoway in proportion to the little teasing in the elevator.

Wait.

Ace had said he wouldn’t be here for the rest of the day. That meant his office would be empty, and consequently, that I could go and take ateenytiny look around. Take that, Grumphole!

Here was the plan: I would take one quick look at what was in there, and if I didn’t find anything, I would be able to tell Damon to screw off once and for all. I was tired of living with the undeniably awful stress of being Miss Marple.

With my perfect plan fully hatched, I summoned the elevator and rode it up to the 8th floor. I spent the rest of the day in my office, glued to my chair. There wasnoway I would be parading around without panties. Ace’s office, adjacent to mine, remained empty all day, only guarded by Mrs. Mills’ watchful eyes.

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