Page 110 of Undeniably Corrupt

I choke out a laugh. This is why I love Champagne like few others.

Vander grunts and the sound has me twisting slightly to catch his profile as he pushes up the bridge of his glasses. I wish he weren’t wearing those. He’s unbelievably sexy in them. I wasn’t lying when I told him that.

“Why are you crying?” he asks me, and I swallow about a million times before I face him.

I pan my hand toward Champagne. “What she said. I hate you and I hate that you’re my boss, and after my next paycheck, I might hire people to kill you in your sleep.”

Jesus. I can’t believe I just said that. Of all the things to say. A sob chokes in the back of my throat.

“Good stuff. Tell them to use the back entrance of my house. There’s a blind spot in my cameras I haven’t yet fixed.”

“Right. I’ll do that.” And make sure he gets that blind spot fixed ASAP.

There’s a long pause, but I can’t meet his eyes.

“We’ve got a meeting to get to, and you need to approve the lunch menu for Friday that’ll go with the champagne I ordered.”

“You got me champagne?!” Now I think Champagne is going to cry.

Vander chuckles. “Your name is Champagne. Did you honestly think I wouldn’t get you the best there is?”

I sniffle back tears. How is he this man? Thisfuck you, I hate you, you’re not nearly as smart as I am, you will never know anything about me that I don’t want you toman, and then he’s that. The guy who buys the best champagne for his Champagne. The man who broke the bones of the person who hurt me and scared my little girl, and then moved us into his home, tells us we’re safe and takes care of my little girl when she’s sick and bakes cookies with her and makes her fucking Mickey Mouse pancakes and gets me goddamn turkey bacon because he remembered I don’t eat pork.

“Sounds fabulous. I’ll be there when I’m ready.”

I smile and finish wiping my face because if Champagne can be that, so can I.

I look up, and instantly, Vander frowns. Okay. So maybe those red lips weren’t selling much.

“I’m ready for the meeting.” Cue my bright smile. It’s dazzling. It’s the goddamn top of the Empire State Building, and we’re in Boston. So maybe the top of the Prudential Tower? I don’t know. I think I’m starting to lose it.

“Great.” Champagne beams at me. “Let’s go. And if you need tampons, they’re in my desk.”

“Tampons?” Vander’s frown deepens.

“Yes!” I exclaim way too loudly. “That’s why I’m so emotional. I have my period.”

Vander’s gaze swings back to Champagne. “You don’t have tampons in your desk. You went through menopause six years ago. I know because you were always complaining about your hot flashes, and I kept the office at sixty degrees for two years.”

“Vander Moore, never question what personal items a woman has in her desk. If I say I have tampons in there, I have tampons in there.”

Vander isn’t appeased.

Champagne leads the charge, and I follow after her, but the second I reach the doorway, he grasps my wrist, and I know there’ll be no getting away from him now.

32

“You don’t have your period.”

I glare at him. “How would you know that?”

“Other than the fact that my face was in your pussy a few short hours ago, and there was no hint of blood, you have a Mirena IUD and don’t get a period with it.”

“How on earth would you even know that?”

He gives me a look that tells me he won’t answer, and Jesus, how invasive are his background checks?

“Why were you crying?”