Page 32 of Fair Trade

Childish? Perhaps.

Entertaining? Absolutely.

Especially since Luisa has been out of the office for a string of away games in Miami and I’ve been left with nothing but actual work to do.

I’ve drained the rest of my glass, pathetically ready to call it a night, when my laptop pings with a notification.

From Luisa.

Thank God there was no wine left in my glass, because the embarrassing speed at which I clicked on my keyboard would have left my desk looking like a crime scene.

I right the glass, then set it at a safe distance from myself and open her response.

It takes me five solid minutes to stop laughing and get my breathing under control. I know based on the time I received the email.

I should stop.

I’ve indulged for the night and gotten my fix. I really shouldn’t push the boundary, but then again…

There. Not so bad. Still cheeky while reeling it in at the end.

I can go ahead and call it a—

Ding.

Surely not.

This quickly? Was she waiting by her phone for my response?

The thought pleases me more than it should.

I quickly open her email and can see that all the niceties are long gone. I smile widely before I can even read the first word.

My skin feels electrified as I reread her snarky message over and over again. I love that she dropped all the pretenses and spoke to me like she did the night we met. The thought makes me wish she was here so I could bend her over my desk and give her the spanking she’s asking for.

She even slipped in that fungus reference I wasn’t too keen on before. But now I’m feeling like it’s one of our things.

No.

We don’t havethings. We had one passionate night of sex and are now forced to play nice at work.

But then again, I am the boss, so how nice do I actually have to be when it comes to my naughty angel?

I respond like I have nothing to lose.

After I hit Send, the part that sticks out to me the most is how I signed off on the email.

Yours.

I’ve never done that before and don’t know what possessed me to do it now.

Must be the cheap, sentimental wine.

I send a quick message to Marla and tell her to make sure any email correspondences between Luisa and I remain confidential and are not screened by a third party.

I usually do this with my company when I’m sending encrypted emails containing sensitive information, so it’s not an uncommon request coming from me.

I close the laptop and force myself out of my office.