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Shayla extends her hand, palm up. "Here, sir."

And she's still not done pissing me off, damn her.

"I'll give you your sympathies back."

I think it's time I remember that I'm a lawyer. And not just any lawyer but one of the best there is in this side of the Atlantic. So why not use that to get away with murdering my secretary?

All she's done in the past ten minutes is give me every reason to fire her.

But instead all I can think about is claiming what everyone else dared to look at, and the next thing I know—

"Take off that ring."

I'm gritting out words that have absolutely nothing to do with me as her boss but everything to do with me as a man.

My secretary looks at me angelically. And then her lips, which look irresistibly luscious all of a sudden, slowly form a word—

"No."

—and I remember too late that the devil comes in all guises.

"Why the hell not?"I'm roaring again, dammit. I can even feel a vein in my head about to pop. It just goes to prove that my secretary is an exception, in all the worst ways one could think of.

Shayla lifts her chin. "It's my ring. I paid for it. I'll wear it as long as I please."

"Why the hell do you want to keep wearing something that's fake?"

"Because!"

A dangerous calmness settles over me. This one, I realize, is my limit. This one, I cannot—andwillnot—let go.

"Don't push me, Shayla," I warn.

And smart girl that she is, she knows when I'm not playing.

"I have no intention of dating," she says stiffly.

"Ever?"

My secretary shrugs. "Believe what you want—"

"I believe you're a liar."

She flinches.

Good.

A crack in her too-perfect composure, finally.

And since there can only be one reason for her to hide behind the shapeless clothes and that ring—

"Who hurt you then?"

"I never—"

"Don't bother lying." I stalk towards her, and she backs up until she hits a bookshelf.

"M-My personal life is none of your business."