own bloody coffee!
Returning the phone to the cradle, she stifled a shriek. First blackmail, followed by a severe guilt trip and now this. It was time she had words with the pushy git. She’d agreed to help him organise the ball for the sake of her reputation, not to play skivvy to his demands.
She lifted the navy jacket from behind the chair and slipped it on. There was no way she could walk around wearing nothing but the white blouse. It was almost see-through and the fact she didn’t have a bra on was just embarrassing. Being caught in undies was daring, but flashing was mental.
After leaving the small room she made her way to Ric’s office and reached for the handle. His voice boomed out from behind his office door. He spoke in sharp, clipped Spanish. The stress was evident in his tone, even if she didn’t understand what he was saying. Sadness unfurled in her belly.
Why do you care if he’s stressed out? Get in there and tell him you’re not his slave.
Alexa knocked on his door, her resolve firmly in place. She pushed it open just as Ric returned his phone to the cradle. He muttered something in Spanish which Alexa thought sounded like a curse word. She’d been right about his stress levels. His suit jacket was strewn over a chair in front of his desk, and the top three buttons were undone on his white shirt, showing a flash of that rock hard chest. He ran his hand through his dark hair, making tufts stand on end. Her mouth watered.
‘I’m not your PA. Get your own coffee.’ She’d planned on saying more, but couldn’t get the words out.
He glared at her with hard eyes, then darted a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. ‘Fine.’ His accent was thick with agitation. ‘I need you here at eight o’clock tomorrow again. We have a meeting to attend.’
His attention went back to the papers scattered over his desk. It was a clear dismissal. Did he think she was going to let it drop? She sauntered over to his desk and propped her bottom against the dark wood at his side. He looked up at her, his expression tight and exasperated.
‘I’m on holiday.’
She heard him grind his teeth. ‘You also agreed to help me organise a ball. The mansion isn’t right, you said so yourself. We have to find somewhere else. I’ve managed to get an appointment with the owners of Madame Dior. ’
‘Madame who?’ She blinked at him, wondering if he’d hired some burlesque club.
‘The yacht you suggested. They have agreed to meet us.’ A small smile curved his lips.
‘How did you manage that?’ Yesterday he’d said it was impossible.
‘I have my ways.’ His gaze fell to the contract on his desk and he cursed. ‘And now I have work to do.’
‘Aren’t you having a lunch break?’ The hollow ache in her stomach screamed for food, and she was smaller than him. Surely a man his size had to eat three meals a day.
‘I’m too busy for a break and it seems I’ll be going without coffee, too.’
She fought the tiniest hint of guilt creeping in, determined to start as she meant to go on.
‘All work and no breaks make Ric a dull boy.’ She grinned down at him, trying to lighten his mood.
The tension fixing his jaw didn’t ease. Damn.
‘Is there something else you want?’
Alexa looked at the papers. All were in Spanish, but she assumed they were contracts of some sort judging by the format. He had scored out blocks in red ink and added lots of text next to large paragraphs. No wonder he was stressed. He was a workaholic. What happened to the headline grabbing adrenaline-junkie who jumped out of planes and backpacked through Europe in the summer?
‘I want you to take a break. Then you can come back with a full belly and a clear head.’ She refused to back down. He was going to go prematurely grey at this rate.
‘Unfortunately, we can’t all slack off when the feeling takes us.’
Ignoring the jibe, she scooted along his desk so she towered above him in his chair. Going for stern, she
Returning the phone to the cradle, she stifled a shriek. First blackmail, followed by a severe guilt trip and now this. It was time she had words with the pushy git. She’d agreed to help him organise the ball for the sake of her reputation, not to play skivvy to his demands.
She lifted the navy jacket from behind the chair and slipped it on. There was no way she could walk around wearing nothing but the white blouse. It was almost see-through and the fact she didn’t have a bra on was just embarrassing. Being caught in undies was daring, but flashing was mental.
After leaving the small room she made her way to Ric’s office and reached for the handle. His voice boomed out from behind his office door. He spoke in sharp, clipped Spanish. The stress was evident in his tone, even if she didn’t understand what he was saying. Sadness unfurled in her belly.
Why do you care if he’s stressed out? Get in there and tell him you’re not his slave.
Alexa knocked on his door, her resolve firmly in place. She pushed it open just as Ric returned his phone to the cradle. He muttered something in Spanish which Alexa thought sounded like a curse word. She’d been right about his stress levels. His suit jacket was strewn over a chair in front of his desk, and the top three buttons were undone on his white shirt, showing a flash of that rock hard chest. He ran his hand through his dark hair, making tufts stand on end. Her mouth watered.
‘I’m not your PA. Get your own coffee.’ She’d planned on saying more, but couldn’t get the words out.
He glared at her with hard eyes, then darted a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. ‘Fine.’ His accent was thick with agitation. ‘I need you here at eight o’clock tomorrow again. We have a meeting to attend.’
His attention went back to the papers scattered over his desk. It was a clear dismissal. Did he think she was going to let it drop? She sauntered over to his desk and propped her bottom against the dark wood at his side. He looked up at her, his expression tight and exasperated.
‘I’m on holiday.’
She heard him grind his teeth. ‘You also agreed to help me organise a ball. The mansion isn’t right, you said so yourself. We have to find somewhere else. I’ve managed to get an appointment with the owners of Madame Dior. ’
‘Madame who?’ She blinked at him, wondering if he’d hired some burlesque club.
‘The yacht you suggested. They have agreed to meet us.’ A small smile curved his lips.
‘How did you manage that?’ Yesterday he’d said it was impossible.
‘I have my ways.’ His gaze fell to the contract on his desk and he cursed. ‘And now I have work to do.’
‘Aren’t you having a lunch break?’ The hollow ache in her stomach screamed for food, and she was smaller than him. Surely a man his size had to eat three meals a day.
‘I’m too busy for a break and it seems I’ll be going without coffee, too.’
She fought the tiniest hint of guilt creeping in, determined to start as she meant to go on.
‘All work and no breaks make Ric a dull boy.’ She grinned down at him, trying to lighten his mood.
The tension fixing his jaw didn’t ease. Damn.
‘Is there something else you want?’
Alexa looked at the papers. All were in Spanish, but she assumed they were contracts of some sort judging by the format. He had scored out blocks in red ink and added lots of text next to large paragraphs. No wonder he was stressed. He was a workaholic. What happened to the headline grabbing adrenaline-junkie who jumped out of planes and backpacked through Europe in the summer?
‘I want you to take a break. Then you can come back with a full belly and a clear head.’ She refused to back down. He was going to go prematurely grey at this rate.
‘Unfortunately, we can’t all slack off when the feeling takes us.’
Ignoring the jibe, she scooted along his desk so she towered above him in his chair. Going for stern, she
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