Page 6 of The Bad Girl

The last thing I would ever expect to see on a Friday evening is Nadine sprawled out on the pavement in thigh-high boots, a low cut shirt, fishnets, and a skirt so short I can see a full asscheek, but I guess tonight is a night for surprises.

And what a fucking asscheek. Round and buoyant, begging for a hand to slap it.

Down boy!

She’s my assistant, and it would be grossly inappropriate for my eyes to linger where they ought not to, but it’s hard not to ogle her as she adjusts her legs and covers her cleavage as best she can, which in her shirt is damn near impossible. She’s fine as hell, I just never really noticed before under her layers of wool and awkward patterns.

I extend my hand down to assist her in righting herself.

“I-I—”

“Ought to be ashamed of yourself, gallivanting around like this, trying to prove me wrong.”

She takes my hand, and I notice she’s trembling.

“Excuse me? I don’t understand.”

“Obviously, when I insinuated you’d be attracting a dad type, you went off the rails trying to prove me wrong, and now you’re dressing like a tramp and getting kicked out of bars.”

I pull her up, and she immediately adjusts her skirt again, affording her delectable rear end as much privacy as a six-inch bandaid can afford—which isn’t much. And let me just say thank you GOD for keeping her cleavage under wraps the last eighteen months or else I’d probably be getting a stern talking-to from my lawyers.

When she’s finally done adjusting her clothes, she looks up at me with a skewed brow. “Do you actually think this is all for you?”

I look around, feigning ignorance. “Who else could this possibly be for? Weren’t we just discussing your wardrobe choices, and didn’t I just make mention of fishnets and fuck-me heels?”

She pokes a finger into my chest, and I can’t help but notice the tops of her breasts jiggle, which my eyes are now glued to.

“Maxwell Stryder, you may think you know me—”

Suddenly, a hand grips her wrist, and she’s pulled roughly away from me by Mike T., the muscle hired to guard me for the night and my favorite of my four bodyguards.

“Hey! Wait a minute!” Nadine squeaks.

“It’s alright, Mike. Let her go."

He looks at me cross. “I don’t know, Mr. Stryder. She could have something hidden—”

“It’s Nadine,” I say, a wry smile playing on my lips.

Mike’s considerable jaw drops as he does a double-take at Nadine and the generous amount of flesh she has on display.

“Is this some kind of side gig? Max, you ain’t payin’ her enough!”

“No!” A look of panic flashes across Nadine’s eyes, which are dark and smokey, contrasting her usual pastel and neutral tones. “I had a date!”

“Uh-huh,” Mike says with a critical gaze, then he turns to me. “This is some reverse Pretty Woman shit right there.” He points to Nadine, who is now tomato red with both hands covering her gaping mouth.

“Once again, Mike, I thank you for guarding me against the many threats lingering around New York City, but if you would so kindly take yourself into the shadows so I can continue my night, I would be ever so thankful,” I say with a smile. “Or, better yet, get in the way of those people trying to take a video.”

With a wink and a nod, Mike steps in front of an onlooker’s pointed cellphone, and my gaze finds Nadine again, but I’m interrupted before I can say anything.

“I’ve called the police!” a security guard calls from the dive Nadine was just kicked out of.

“That really isn’t necessary,” I say, taking a one-hundred-dollar bill from my billfold and handing it over to the bouncer.

His brow lifts, and he takes it, looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t seen. “Alright, I hear ya, but she needs ta bounce, and right quick.”

I turn to Nadine. “I expect to see you in the office on Monday.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies sheepishly, “and, I-I…just wanted to mention that I’m sorry—”

“You left three whole minutes early today,” I interject. “I know, Harry expects Lady M’s on Monday.”

“You told him?”

“He loves the tiramisu mille crêpes, and you know what happens when he has subverted expectations.”

“Damn you!”

“Run along now, your cat is lonely, and I’m sure there’s an oversized bathrobe and some crochet hooks that miss you as well.”