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than I am. I know what is zipping back and forth between us. I’ve been picturing her naked every time she has walked into my office for weeks. Perhaps she has done the same, but I have been hard enough on her lately that I know there is an element of frustration in her, too.

Good. She needs some edge.

“She just needs a distraction, I think,” I say. “That, or a firm hand.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes, but I notice the blush has deepened. “What are you going to do with her?” she asks. I’ve stripped off my ruined shirt. I see Charlotte gripping the edge of her desk hard. The toe of her shoe wiggles in the air nervously.

“For now, I need a moment’s peace.”

“How do you plan on that?”

I eye her carefully—and then a plan occurs to me, already in full bloom, like it was just waiting for me to stumble across it. “My lovely secretary. How else?”

She narrows her eyebrows. “No, no, no. Babysitting is not in my job description.”

“Then perhaps the description bears rewriting.”

“You don’t pay me enough for that.”

I laugh. “No, I suppose not. But you will make even less if I fire you.”

She crosses her arms and the pinwheeling of her toe picks up a notch. I can see her weighing her options in her head. She could refuse, and risk being fired—God knows I’ve axed others for less.

“At the very least, just come say hello,” I add, softening just a touch. “Professional courtesy if nothing else. She is a guest in our office, isn’t she? Surely that falls in your job description.”

Charlotte rolls her eyes again as I shrug on the new shirt and finish buttoning it up.

“Fine,” she snaps. “But I am not a babysitter.”

I smile and say nothing.

We walk into the office, Charlotte first, if for no other reason than so that I can watch her ass sway from side to side as she strides in front of me. She keeps her head held high, in a posture of defiance that I know damn well she does not truly feel.

Because Charlotte’s smile is pure joy when she looks at my daughter.

She bends to pick up some markers from the cup on my desk. Her long auburn hair swings forward as she reaches into the bottom drawer of my desk for a sheet of blank paper.

I watch as she takes the markers to the small table and sits on the floor next to it. Without speaking to Tiana, she uncaps a marker and begins to draw. I set down the papers in my hand and watch.

Instead of sitting next to her or standing to watch, Tiana moves closer to Charlotte, quiet for a moment as Charlotte finishes her drawing of the sun shining down on flowers.

“Do you want to draw?” She hands Tiana a marker and a fresh piece of paper then lets my daughter crawl onto her lap. Tiana traces Charlotte’s hand with the marker and giggles when the Sharpie skips off her paper onto Charlotte’s skin. Charlotte’s eyes widen, and her mouth is shaped like a fantasy O, and I have to shake off another quick flare of desire. She’s caring for my daughter. Now isn’t the time to imagine my assistant on top of my desk, moaning as I settle between her knees and she …

Another Tiana giggle draws me back to the moment. It’s such a pure sound. I nod to Charlotte when she looks at me and her skin blooms red from the delicate line of her throat to her forehead.

“What do I have this afternoon?” I ask her.

She gently moves Tiana out of her lap, stands, and the smooths her skirt. She tries to take a step toward me, but Tiana has wrapped herself around Charlotte’s leg and won’t let go. Charlotte clears her throat and tilts her head as she drags her foot along the carpet and Tiana giggles with each step. “Mr. Rusnak would like ten minutes with you. He never tells me why. Also, you have a lunch meeting with the police commissioner at the Golden Bull, and Melanie from accounting called to thank you for the flowers you sent for her birthday.”

“Did I send nice flowers?” It amuses me that she thinks to tell me of thanks for acts I have no idea that have been done in my name.

“You only send the best.”

“All right. Tell Yelisey I’ll see him now. And cancel my lunch.”

Charlotte purses her lips, and for the umpteenth time since she entered the room, I imagine them wrapped around my manhood.

“You’ve been waiting for this meeting for a month.”

She’s right. I need to restress the importance of police cooperation with my business. Over the last six months, we’ve lost some vital communicative channels. Two of my contacts have been fired; three were transferred. Even the guy who fixes my parking tickets retired. “What am I supposed to do with this … situation?” I indicate Tiana.

Charlotte tilts her head, and the rush of blood to my cock ticks up another notch. If not for high-quality European tailoring, my zipper might be a goner. “Well … I could watch her.”

I laugh. “What happened to your job description?”

“You can add it to my seasonal bonus. Besides, someone needs to be here who is capable of ‘handling her,’ as you put it.”

I bite back a smile. She has become far more impudent since our little call the night of the gala. But I like the fire. I hadn’t noticed so much of it in her before.

“Is that you?” I muse.

“I can handle anything.”

This time I cannot bite it back. I bet you can, Charlotte, I mutter silently. Out loud, I say, “So be it. Change the meeting to the boardroom at noon and order food from the Golden Bull. I’ll handle the commissioner here.”

Charlotte nods, settles Tiana back at the table to color some more, and strides out of the office to handle her assignments.

Yelisey walks in right behind her and closes the door.

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