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"Indeed. But you do."

She rises to her feet, and so do I.

"We should head back to office—"

"I've already told Milos to drive you home," I interrupt her. "Take the afternoon off. I'm sure you'll need time to prepare for tonight's ball."

Her eyes widen. "Are you talking about the fundraiser—"

"Yes."

"But you're supposed to attend that alone," she protests. "And I already told you I had plans—"

"I bought that for a second," I acknowledge, "but then I remembered that I've known you for nine years—"

"Eight and a half."

"Is that really the hill you want to die on?"

"Actually—"

"Donotpush me on this," I warn her coolly. "I expect you to be with me this evening. And that's my final word on it."

"Fine." And then she just leaves.

Typical.

All the other secretaries who had worked for me before Shayla were either crybabies, sycophants, or gold-diggers. Sometimes, all of the above.

Shayla was the only one who dared speak her mind to me, to the point of being rude. The only one not to flinch even no matter how many times I lost my temper. And unfortunately for both of us—

She was also the only secretary I've come to realize was a woman.

And a very desirable one at that.



















Chapter Six