Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 310(@200wpm)___ 248(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
My skirt inched upward beneath his hands, slowly, deliberately, until cool air kissed the backs of my thighs. His palm slid over my cheeks first—almost thoughtful.
Then he slapped my ass.
The sound cracked through the room, and a moan slipped from my mouth before I could stop it. His hand immediately covered my lips, muting me, while his other hand struck me again—harder this time.
“I’ll show you some fucking boundaries,” he murmured against my ear.
The sting melted into heat, and that heat pooled lower, traitorous and immediate.
He shoved my skirt down my legs, my panties following, and before I could decide whether I should protest, he lifted me onto the desk and spread my knees apart with firm, unyielding hands.
“Don’t move.”
The command was quiet, but it wrapped around me like a threat.
Then his mouth was on me.
All the tension between us—the arguments, the power plays, the resentment—shifted into something physical and overwhelming. His tongue moved slowly at first, deliberate and controlled, as if he wanted to feel every reaction he pulled from me.
I gripped his hair when he increased the pressure, when his rhythm turned demanding, when he dragged his mouth over me like he’d been starving.
I should have pushed him away, should have reminded him that this was exactly why I was trying to leave, but my body betrayed me and I arched into him.
He looked up at me once—dark eyes steady, daring—and the challenge in his gaze sent me over the edge before I could brace myself.
The orgasm tore through me, sharp and humiliatingly loud, and he didn’t stop until my hands were trembling in his hair and my legs were shaking around his shoulders.
Only then did he rise.
He unbuckled his belt slowly, never breaking eye contact, and the promise in that look made my pulse spike all over again.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sudden sound shattered the room.
“Harrison!” a deep voice barked from outside. “Boardroom. Now.”
His jaw flexed.
For a second, I thought he might ignore it.
Instead, he exhaled sharply and re-fastened his belt, composure sliding back over him like armor. When he helped me off the desk and adjusted my clothes, his touch was steady—controlled again, almost impersonal.
At the door, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.
“I do see you.”
TWENTY-TWO
ANDREA
Subject: Formal Offer Letter (Final Terms, No Negotiation)
Miss Stone,
After much thought and consideration, I’ve arrived at a number for your salary as my executive assistant at Sweet Seasons.
It’s in your best interest to digitally accept this offer before your return to work tomorrow morning.
Thank you for your attention to this issue.
Harrison Cross
CEO, Sweet Seasons Coffee
Founder & Owner, Cross Industries
Ihesitated before opening the attached file, my stomach tightening as the screen loaded.
I scrolled through five blank pages, my pulse climbing with each swipe, before the numbers finally appeared.
Former Salary: 69,998.00
(Cubicle assignment)
Proposed New Salary: 695,000.00
(Personal office on top level)
My jaw dropped to the floor, and I stared at the screen until my vision blurred.
That number couldn’t be real…
I copied and pasted it into an email, then into a text message, just to make sure the zeroes stayed where they were.
This wasn’t survival money.
This was never-worry-again money.
Even though it was coming from a man who was Satan half the time, I couldn’t resist.
I immediately signed the acceptance form — and everything that came with it.
Walking away was no longer an option…
TWENTY-THREE
HARRISON
Several days later
“Explain what it is you do here again, Mr. Holmes.” I stared at the last employee on my re-interview list, the Latte Vibes Master.
“Happy to do that, sir.” He smiled, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “I deliver coffee to department meetings on time and I make personalized drinks for all the managers if they ask—always making sure to master the balance of ingredients properly.”
So, I did hear that right the first time.
“And…” I flipped his job listing over. “You’ve been drawing an eighty-thousand-dollar salary to do this?”
“Yes.” He smiled. “Besides Miss Stone and like three others, I’m the longest tenured employee.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Since he first moved into this building, sir,” he said. “I used to be in record keeping since I had nice handwriting, but he promoted me to this much easier job a decade in and just asked me to protect my old notebooks.”
The Ponzi scheme fact slapped me in the face, and I made a mental note to find a hitman to handle Mr. Lewis.
“Would you like me to prepare a latte for you, sir?” he asked. “I’m not limited to the things on our menu.”
“No, thank you.” I shook my head. “I’ve heard enough.”
“Well… is this the part when I explain why I shouldn’t be fired?”
“I fired you twenty minutes ago.”
“What?” He sat up.
“I said—” I cleared my throat, not wanting to handle business this way. “I thought we discussed that twenty minutes ago.”
“We didn’t.”
Silence.
“Oh. Well, I’ll email you soon with any questions I have. Then again, wait. What happened to the notebooks you kept from Mr. Lewis?”