Page 29 of Grand Romantic Delusions and the Madness of Mirth, Part One

E LIAS

Beside me, Lia leans over the desk as she reads the unsigned contract for a second time, arching her back so that her otherwise sensible skirt stretches over her pert ass.

A lot about Lia is pert, her nose, breasts, and ass included.

But her general demeanor is professional and focused.

I always understood that her taking an executive assistant position with me was simply a steppingstone for her.

It wouldn’t come as a surprise if she were to move on after the terms of the contract are fulfilled, only to come to me sometime in the next five years when she decides she’s ready to run for public office.

Lia approached me nonprofessionally three times.

The first about three months ago, after hours in the office, which I ignored.

The second, slightly drunk and very flirty, in a hotel bar after an out-of-town conference.

Then finally, after helping me with the wording for a water conservation proposal I’m planning to bring to the World Council — my first official proposal as councilor since assuming my father’s hereditary seat — she broached the possibility of a contract.

I had entered into similar contracts before. And technically, said contracts all came with an NDA. But even as much as I trust those few who’ve signed those contracts previously, I’m not surprised that Lia was able to dig up the info she sought.

Most aspects of my private life hinge on contracts and explicit consent.

Lia carefully strikes through the section about the use of condoms during oral sex with the rhodium-coated gold-nib fountain pen she’s saucily plucked out of my hand, all black-lacquered and with platinum-coated fittings.

In the same black ink, she carefully prints the date in the margin, then initials underneath.

I hide my grimace as she offers me the pen, and I initial the change.

She scans the termination section a third time — it’s a simple no-fault clause that can be triggered by either party, but requires written notice — then curls and loops her signature in more black ink at the end, next to mine.

She does the exact same to the duplicate copy, pausing for me to add my initials to the same struck-out section. Then she tucks the second copy in her slim brown briefcase.

She slides the primary contract to the side and toward me, leaving her hand settled over it at around groin height. She then tilts her head. Her blond hair, already swept to the side to expose her neck, slips further over her shoulder as she peers up at me with light-blue eyes.

Not shy. Coy, maybe?

The move, the placement of her hand, and the look are supposed to be enticing. But throughout my thirty-three years, many a person has tried to seduce me, and it just doesn’t … work.

I smile anyway.

I know the exact last time I had someone’s lips pressed to mine, down to the minute. It was a complete surprise, because there was no discussion of any nature that led me to believe such a thing was about to occur. No overt flirting — at least not overt enough for me to pick it up. No contract.

I know exactly the last time that same someone went down on their knees and wrapped those same lips around my swiftly stiffening cock.

Almost seven months ago.

Though we were interrupted before more fluid, or even words, could be exchanged, I terminated my current contract the next day.

Only to have that person never reach out again.

I might be one of the most powerful people in the world.

Literally. I hold a seat on the World Council, a hereditary title, an earldom, and the monies and lands that go with that, as well as a rare mage affinity.

But even I couldn’t say no to that someone, even as surprised as I was that he would get anywhere near his knees for me. For anyone.

Even if I was inclined to say no to him, which I wasn’t —

“Elias?” Lia queries softly.

I blink, shoving all thoughts of that confusing interaction out of my mind, out of my office.

He’s dead now. All of that was done before it even began.

I renew my waning smile. “Yes?”

Lia’s brow furrows, her eyes flicking between mine. “Dinner out?”

“Yes. I booked us a table.” I skirt around the back of the desk, ignoring the slightly odd thought that filters into my mind — that Lia, with her slightly lighter-blue eyes, blond hair, and pale skin, could be mistaken for my younger sister. If I had a sister.

I tug open the top left desk drawer. “And I bought you something.”

A smile swamps her face. “You didn’t have to do that!”

Honestly, I’ve had the antique fountain pen since just before Christmas. I spotted it in the window of my favorite stationery store and purchased it on sight, even though I had no idea who I would give it to at the time. It’s too short and sleek for my hand.

Lia is around the desk with her hand on my belt buckle before I get the pen case fully out of the drawer.

I still at the sudden contact. She doesn’t usually display her inherent shifter swiftness so outwardly.

A fox shifter, to be specific. We haven’t ever discussed it, but I don’t invite anyone anywhere near me without knowing as much as possible about them beforehand.

“You like this, right?” she asks in a murmur. Her gaze settles on my mouth, but she doesn’t try to kiss me. “Better than sex?”

I don’t answer. It’s obvious she got even more info from whoever talked around their NDA than I thought. And maybe that’s a good thing?

“I’m okay with not fucking right away,” Lia says, slowly undoing my belt, then the zipper of my gray suit pants. She nudges me slightly back, turning me so I’m against the desk with my back to the locked door.

Then she goes down on her knees on the hardwood floor.

If she had let me lead, I would have given her something softer to kneel on. And made sure I was ready for her. I’m not remotely ready. But she’s not at all daunted that I’m not at all hard as she works my dick out of my boxers.

The heat of her mouth is shocking, and my hips buck involuntarily. She hums encouragingly, taking more of me. Her hand tightens around the base of my now-hardening dick.

I let my head fall back, staring up at the walnut coved ceiling and trying to blank my mind.

The wood detailing matches the desk and the mostly empty bookshelves.

It all still feels too ostentatious, still too much of my father throughout the offices.

I’ve stripped it back as far as I can without calling attention to myself and my proclivity for full modernization.

The World Council needs to accept me as one of them before —

Lia hollows her cheeks, sucking hard, then backing off to swirl her tongue around my crown.

Thankfully, that pulls my attention back to the blowjob before I soften in her mouth.

Our intimacy might be initiated under and dictated by the terms of a contract, but I still don’t want to come off as lacking.

I don’t lean back against the desk because I don’t want to wrinkle the suit. But I do spread my legs a little to solidify my stance. Then I gently thread my hands through Lia’s hair, cupping the back of her head.

She groans and tightens her grip on my dick, picking up her speed.

Pleasure slowly curls through me, tightening my balls and —

The lock clicks on the door behind me. Then it’s opening before I can pull out of Lia’s mouth without hurting her.

She cries out quietly in shock. But even as I pivot to look over my shoulder at the fuckers who’ve dared to enter my fucking office without an appointment, she rises and covers me with her body. Then she tucks my dick back inside my boxers, zipping up my pants.

Three members of the royal guard slip silently through the door, spreading out in front of it. A mage and two shifters. They move under a silence spell, though I can’t actually feel the essence they must be using to fuel it.

The asshole at the center raises an eyebrow at Lia, then says coolly, “Leave us.”

Bristling, I open my mouth. The lights actually flicker, then sharpen as my own essence reacts to the intrusion.

Then I pause to assess the situation.

Lia glances between me and the asshole shifter, wide-eyed and clearly getting angry.

Problem is? Though I have numerous peers on the World Council, there are only a dozenpeople — maybe half again that many— who completely outrank me. And the tall, dark-skinned French asshole standing across from me might actually be one of them.

Not because of the royal crest on his suit pocket, but because of his chosen mate.

Raoul. Aka Le Loup. Head of the royal guard. The chancellor’s chosen.

Fuck it.

“Lia,” I say steadily, “call the car around, will you?”

She raises her chin, firmly directing her simmering anger toward the interlopers. “Our reservation is in twenty-five minutes.”

“He’ll be late,” Raoul says, quietly amused now. “He’ll likely be rescheduling.”

Lia looks at me questioningly.

I smooth a hand down my still-open suit jacket, checking that Lia got my belt buckled. “The car. ”

She nods, striding out of the office. The guard on the left — the second shifter — leers at her appreciatively.

Fucking shifters.

My rank, my money, means nothing to him, not compared to how Lia likely smells. At least I hope she still carries a lingering scent of arousal — I don’t have acute shifter senses — because I don’t have any way, any leverage, to stop these three assholes from talking shit about me.

And yes, I’m a selfish, detached shit. But my reputation is —

Oh, what the fuck does it matter anyway?

I’ll have to eventually procreate, to prove I can fulfill that duty to my line. But I’ve got nothing to prove to these three. Or to Lia, for that matter.

I don’t sit behind my desk. Because it finally occurs to me that these guards didn’t break into my office for a simple chat.

Having just been getting my dick expertly sucked, I doubt anyone could blame me for being slow on the uptake.