Chapter 1: Opening Image
John sat in his chair, the papers on his desk scattered and the dim light of the evening flickering just through the blinds. The desk was cluttered—piles of documents, briefs, and files of one kind or another. But John’s hands went past stacks of these and landed neatly on a folder he had brought home several days ago. Black and red. Leather felt—expensive.
As he sat back, he absently popped his jaw. He flipped through the cover, then the paperwork inside. All paperwork was dull, unless of course one was the CEO. In his position, all those slips of paper practically came sniffing at him for attention.
John sat in his chair, the papers on his desk scattered and the dim light of the evening flickering just through the blinds. The desk was cluttered—piles of documents, briefs, and files of one kind or another. But John’s hands went past stacks of these and landed neatly on a folder he had brought home several days ago. Black and red. Leather felt—expensive.
As he sat back, he absently popped his jaw. He flipped through the cover, then the paperwork inside. All paperwork was dull, unless of course one was the CEO. In his position, all those slips of paper practically came sniffing at him for attention.
Fuck this shit. Another Monday morning, another pile of nonsense to sift through at the top. I flipped through a stack of files on my leather desk, scanning the dull line of spreads and briefs. My secretary, or whatever the hell she is, walked in with a goddamn smile plastered on her face. I cocked my head up at her. She looked...dressed. Tight, tight skirt that hugged the ass I’m not supposed to stare at; a short, low-cut blouse that pointed up and out. The usual tools in her hair, her ass doing that cute wiggle like she’s daring me to look. My eyes didn’t waver.
“Stacy, what can I do for you?”
She set the cup of coffee down on the desk, the steam rising in the otherwise chilly temperature of my office. “Just thought I’d bring you a little pick-me-up, boss. You’ve been at it all night, haven’t you?”
“Is that a question?” I didn’t look up.
“Nope. Just an observation.” She walked around the desk, passing behind me without flinching. I could see her shadow move across the papers, and I didn’t like it.
"Actually, I did wake up early."
She leaned against the corner of the desk, not stepping on it like some clumsy intern. Her elbows had those curves that got me—big fucking bonus for coming into my office looking like that. I set down the folder and motioned for her to keep talking, pretending I wasn’t watching her instead of whatever dry corporate bullshit she might dump on me.
And that wasn’t even the prettiest she got. Oh no. Let’s get crackalackin’—she tossed those brown hips in a swivel. Shit, I almost winced, grabbing at one of my file folders to adjust myself while pretending to flip pages.
My eyes darted up to her, caught her staring back. She didn’t look away. She had that smile—sly and knowing.
“What’s up, Stacy?” I asked.
“Well,” she began, drawing out the word, “I was thinking... you’ve been working so hard.”
“Oh yeah?” I didn’t even try to hide my skepticism.
“Yeah,” she said, biting her lip, her eyes flickering to the folder I’d been looking at before she came in.
“I figured you might want some downtime. No meetings, no calls—just chill and maybe relax.”
“That’s cute,” I said, my voice firm. “I’m busy. And no, I don’t need someone playing secretary to life.”
“Be that way,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of sass. “But honestly?” She inhaled deeply. “No one shuts that woman down once the curtains come up.”
Even between her words, I detected something—so fine it almost got the better of me. Or perhaps it already had. I looked away for a moment, trying to stifle whatever internal smirk or grin threatened to slip out. I didn’t want to look too interested. Not yet.