Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
I glare at him, racking my brain, and he’s right. I remember him walking past me, flanked by Benedict. He gave me a single glance, a quick once-over, and ignored me after that.
“You’re the one Mr. Strafford is meeting with.”
“That’s right.” He strolls into the room and leans against one of the chairs. “What’s the mail girl doing paging through the big boss’s filing cabinet, I wonder? Seems like something that would be frowned upon in this illustrious organization.”
“It’s none of your business.” I shove the drawers shut. “I was asked to find something.”
“None of my business, and yet you seem quick to make excuses.” He laughs gently. “Look, I don’t give a shit what you’re up to, so long as you understand that you never saw me.” He walks over and rips open one of the drawers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me?”
I stare at him in blatant shock. He winks at me and starts humming softly to himself as he goes through the files. His handsome lips remain locked in a smile but there’s an intense concentration in his eyes like he’s searching for something in particular. The man’s got a presence to him and part of me is screaming out for me to run, to get the heck out of here before this gets worse, but I can’t seem to make myself walk away.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I say stupidly as if I weren’t doing the same thing a second ago.
“And you shouldn’t still be here.” He glances up. “Why haven’t you left yet?”
“You’re going through Mr. Strafford’s stuff.”
“No kidding.” He sucks in a breath and pulls out a file. “And apparently, I’m a lucky bastard.” He flips it open and I lean forward to read the tab.
“What do you care about luxury apartments?”
“These luxury apartments are why I’m here.” He squints, frowning. “And your boss has been lying to me about them.”
Another sound outside. This one’s further down the hall but it’s the distinct sound of a man talking loudly to someone like he’s on the phone. Footsteps stomp on the rug, getting closer.
The man shoves the folder into the drawer and shuts it. The voice gets closer and I recognize the depth and tenor, and my spine turns to water. I want to cry, a stone in my throat, a sob lodged above my lungs, and the gorgeous asshole steps toward the door, listening.
“He’s coming,” he says quietly and turns to look at me. His eyes dart around the room and I can almost see the calculations. “Do what I say if you want to get through this.”
“I’m sorry, what—”
He walks over, grabs my hand, and yanks me toward him.
Chapter 2
Jeanie
I release a soft yelp. His palm comes up and covers my mouth hard and I grunt as he muffles my protests. I’m much smaller than him, barely five-foot-six in heels, and I probably weigh less than half of what he does. He easily manhandles me across the room and over toward the couch stuffed up against the same wall as the door in front of the main windows overlooking the office. The blinds are drawn, like they always are, but I can hear Malcolm Strafford’s voice getting closer.
“What are you doing?” I try to say, but the man’s hand is over my mouth. He collapses back onto the couch and pulls me down with him. I release a yelp of shock as he forces me to straddle him, his one hand going down to grab my ass and shove it up against his crotch, and his other releasing my mouth to move back and grab a fist full of my curly dark hair.
He pulls, hard, and I groan in shock and pain. His thighs are warm and I feel something long and thick between my legs, and my brain’s short-circuiting with fear, arousal, and pure rage. Who the hell is this guy, and why is he pulling me onto his lap?
“Don’t talk,” he whispers as he pulls my face down toward his. “Follow my lead. You know what kind of man Malcolm is, don’t you?”
I don’t have time to respond. Malcolm’s voice is on the other side of the door. “Hold on, I’ll call you back,” he says and the knob turns.
The man acts fast. The hand gripping my ass moves down between my legs, flicks open the fastener keeping my dress slacks together, and shoves his palm down until his fingers graze over my pussy. I moan and struggle but the hand in my hair tightens and he jerks me forward, slamming his mouth against mine, not gently.
His lips are firm and soft at the same time and his tongue floods my mouth. A heady, musky, masculine aroma fills my nostrils and the fucking asshole is kissing me, he’s kissing me, and his other hand is cupping my pussy. His fingers aren’t moving, he’s not stroking me, he’s not teasing me, but he’s right there and fuck, it feels good, it sends a sudden jolt down my spine and creates a massive tingling in my core, and I moan into his kiss, but I’m also trying to struggle because holy shit, I don’t know this guy, and now I’m straddling him, his hand’s pulling my hair, and he’s inches away from fingering me.