“I actually could use a favor,” I say, my voice strangled because I’m leaning over, and the waistband on my skirt is too tight for this pose.
My fingers land on the plastic bag, all the way at the bottom of my bag, of course. I pull out my emergency ballet flats, which are rolled tightly, and coax them flat as I straighten.
It’s not easy to do the balancing thing with Hawthorne watching so intently, but I manage to change my shoes.
“You want to be of assistance? See that these receive a proper burial.” I shove the stilettos at him.
To my surprise, he accepts them, albeit between two pinched fingers. If his nose goes any higher, he’ll need a chiropractor to fix his neck.
I pin him with a wintry stare. “Thank you,” I say. And then… heaven help me… I smirk. It’s Hawthorne’s most irritating quirk, and now he’s got me doing it.
He smiles.
Something about staring into his cool blue eyes while in the middle of the bustling crowd is intimate, and in a heartbeat I feel my breath turn shallow, heat spiraling inside me.
“Guess I’ll see you later.” He heads off in the direction Romeo went. As he passes a trashcan, he tosses my shoes.
I wish I could say that I don’t watch him go, but I do. Hawthorne is every bit as gorgeous as he is irritating.
It’s an awful combination in a boss. Luckily, my other two bosses are kind. Not to say they’re easy. They’re not. They make me work long hours, and they get a little too liberal with the spankings during sex, but I have no complaints.
When I start to walk again, there’s a surreal disconnect between my head and my feet. It’s like a naked-in-front-of-the-class dream.
Dear lord but the pavement is hard , and I can feel every little bump under my soles. No one should have to be so intimate with a public sidewalk.
By the time I reach the building’s entrance, I’m walking on my tiptoes. It’s just more comfortable.
That’s worrisome. I’ve heard about women who screw up their legs by wearing heels all the time, but I’m only twenty-three. Surely my calf muscles aren’t permanently shortened?
Someone bumps into me, doesn’t apologize.
Then it happens again.
Frowning, I go through the doors. The security guard says, “Identification.”
Apparently he doesn’t recognize me if I’m four inches shorter. Though… I’m not sure I recognize him, either.
This is all Romeo’s fault. He ordered me to give up my padded, pushup bras, and now, without cleavage, without high heels, I’ve become invisible. By the time I step off the elevator, my confidence is circling the drain.
It doesn’t matter, though. Most of the office is gone for the day. I just have a quick hour of work to wrap up, then I can head home.
There’s a lot to do, and I plunge into it. Tomorrow’s the day we restructure Food4Life, and I’m behind with my employee recommendations. It doesn’t help that I had Slade with me as I conducted the interviews, so my notes are only semi-legible.
With bosses as hot as Romeo, Slade and Hawthorne, it can be impossible to concentrate. It’s a wonder I haven’t sketched X-rated doodles in all the margins.
~ ~ ~
Toward 8:00, I look through my remaining notes. Two more reports, but they’re the most difficult.
Sooner begun, sooner done , as my mom used to say whenever I put off doing my homework. The bittersweet memory makes me smile. I take a sip of cold coffee and resume typing.
I’m aware of someone walking down the hallway, toward my part of the office, but I’m focused on my work.
“Lindsay Yorker.”
Even as my last name rings into the silence, the blood sludges in my veins, and a chill inches down my spine.
My fingers, though, continue dancing over the keyboard. Gibberish, but I don’t stop.
This is the first time I’ve been addressed with my real last name since I was sixteen.
I’m certain I don’t recognize the man’s voice. He’s likely a hired investigator or a
Similar Books
