sir, Mr Chivers,’ she breathes in that delicious husky voice of hers.
Turning gracefully on the spot, she heads for the door—but before she leaves she turns back and flashes me one last guileful smile, letting me know that this thing isn’t over between us, then lets herself out of my office, closing the door quietly behind her.
I drop my head into my hands and let out a low groan.
Well, that didn’t exactly go as I planned.
Fuck!
I’m supposed to be looking out for her while her father’s in New York. He specifically warned me not to let her get into my head and twist me around her little finger and I laughed, telling him there was no way that would happen, thinking I could handle her.
Well, I guess I did handle her. Just not in the way I intended.
We’ve crossed a line now, though, and I know there’s no going back. But at least I know what I’m up against.
Anyway, she won’t be working here for long, and judging by her reputation for short, sharp relationships she isn’t looking for anything serious from me.
I certainly don’t want a serious relationship right now—not that she’s the type of woman I’d expect to settle down with anyway...if I ever do.
That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy what just happened between us. She certainly is a fascinating woman...
I rub my hands over my scalp, feeling frustration flood through me.
She’s the very last person I should be letting get under my skin right now. It’s okay for her—playing at working here, then swanning off to fritter away her trust fund on some vanity project—but it’s my career and reputation at stake and I have to put my business first.
If she thinks I’m going to carry on playing her sexy little power games she can bloody well think again.
Maya
I PUT A brave face on it as I saunter out of Benedict’s office, pretending I’m still in control of the situation and my response to him—but, Jesus, what happened back there has rattled me well and good.
I went in there intending to get his attention, but I had no idea just how far I was willing to go in order to get it until the intensely erotic promise of the situation seduced me into total abandon.
That was pretty extreme, though. Even for me.
Not that I didn’t love every single second of it...
The rest of my afternoon is spent in a brain-addled haze, and I stumble home feeling the kind of euphoria I can normally only procure from a dealer.
I’m not usually one for repeat performances—famous for it, in fact—but as I sit in my father’s kitchen, gulping down a humongous glass of wine like it’s water, I can’t get Benedict Chivers out of my head.
That should be enough for me—that breathtakingly sexy culmination of our mutual attraction. It should be, but it isn’t. Because he demonstrated something I’ve been looking for for a long time—a strength and self-possession I’ve been unable to find before now. Normally when I force my admittedly sometimes overwhelming personality on a man he either turns into a gibbering wreck or blows it by getting selfish and carried away with a sense of his own importance. But not Benedict Chivers. He somehow managed to give me exactly what I most needed. Despite him maintaining strict control over the situation I still felt powerful, wanted and majorly fucking sexy.
And sitting here, humming with echoes of the pleasure he gave me, I know for sure that I definitely want to feel like that again.
Unfortunately, it seems we’re not on the same page where that particular want is concerned.
I turn up at the office the next day, looking my absolute sex bomb best, only to find to my screaming frustration that he’s not in, and all my tasks are to be passed on through tersely worded emails or by word of mouth from one of his other PAs.
By the time I get home I seriously wonder whether I’m going to spontaneously combust from sexual tension. Is that a thing? Is it possible my body will actually catch fire and I’ll be found in the morning, just a pile of ash and false eyelashes?
It’s not as if I don’t have other options to satisfy this weirdly consuming need. I’ve cultivated a comprehensive book of contacts for fun, no-strings sex over the years and, believe me, I’m not afraid to use it. So I call up Freddie Valentine—a semi-regular hook-up of mine who fronts the indie band Blues and Dues, who’ve been getting a lot of press lately for their wild partying.
Mercifully, he’s free and tells me to, ‘Come right over and sit on my face, babe.’
But for some reason, it’s not happening for me, and when he leans in to kiss me and slides his hands around my waist, pulling me against his rock-hard body, I freeze.
Usually I love having sex, because in those moments I can dodge the strange restlessness that follows me around like a toxic cloud and escape into pure, beautiful sensation. My thoughts are centred entirely on how my body is being worshipped, and of course my interest in my partner’s—no one could ever accuse me of being a selfish lover—but not, it seems, today.
There’s nothing there. Not even a spark of desire.
Despite my acute awareness of the guy’s sharp looks and rocking body, I feel nothing. So, ignoring his huffy baffled protests I tell him I’ve changed my mind and I’m not in the mood after all and practically run out of his apartment.
I sit on my bed at home, wondering what the hell has happened to me.
I toss the question around my mind for the next couple of days, growing increasingly frustrated and not a little bit worried by the weird infatuation I seem to have developed for my boss.
My boss who is once again acting as if I mean absolutely nothing to him.
Friday morning I finally get an opportunity to be in a room with him alone as I take him the coffee that the other PAs are too busy to fetch. Despite my family name and social status I’m still the last in when it comes to employment here, so I’m considered the bottom of the pile. I’m sure my father must have insisted on that being enforced too. He’s a wily bastard like that. Luckily, his irreverence actually benefits me today, which gives me an extra little kick of satisfaction.
I walk into Benedict’s office, making my strides long and confident as I cover the floor between the door and his desk. The memory of what happened on that thing the last time I was in here makes my whole body flush with heat as I approach it.
He looks up from what he’s doing at his computer and fixes me with a hard, distant stare.
‘What can I do for you, Maya?’
‘I thought you might be thirsty, Mr Chivers,’ I say, offering up the large mug of strong black coffee.
‘Thank you. You can put it right there.’ He gestures to a space on the desk before
